Olekranon: Recycle Human Lung
Inam Records

Ryan Huber (aka Olekranon and Bobcrane) likes his noise alright, but he's no Merzbow wannabe. Rather the Bloomington, Indiana provocateur targets a middle ground where electronically-generated noise textures and drones meet hard-hitting beat structures. His latest EP, Recycle Human Lung, his the third and supposedly final release of 2009, follows fast on the heels of the recently-issued Gaitan and spits out an additional half-hour of ear cavity-clearing cacophony.

The one-minute windstorm “01012” sets the stage for “Unsafe,” a cacophonous bruiser that takes no prisoners with its blistering beat crunch and furious strafe of chugging noise patterns, making the listener feel as disoriented and besieged as a soldier surrounded on all sides by explosions and artillery fire. “I Know You Still Want Me Dead” weds a snarling rhythm base birthed by an imaginary blues band of demented design and a wall of metallic grime; watch for the mid-song break when the drums and bass enjoy a brief moment in the spotlight before a tidal wave of noise obliterates them; listen closely and you may even hear wails of the undead emanating from its center. “Recycle Human Lung” opts for relative normalcy in pairing a bright electric guitar melody with restrained surges of agitated noise textures, but the mood passes quickly when “Black Sunday Brunch” delivers a pummeling wail of noise that ultimately morphs into a seething cobra. The violent thrum of helicopter rotor blades and roar of metallic sheets ensures “The Son Never Sits” won't be overlooked despite being positioned last. Even without beats, the material exudes power and aggression, as “Trinec” makes clear when its tremolo guitar shadings are attacked by a snarling drone and assorted clatter. At twenty-seven minutes, Recycle Human Lung doesn't last long, but it nevertheless feels like a complete statement. By EP's end, the listener has an utterly clear feel for Olekranon's powerhouse attack.

September 2009