(Wire) Daniel Wyche writes to say that the two 18 minute tracks on this release are a response to an ongoing sleep problem he's been dealing with. Plausibly, the rationale is that if he can't have a good night's rest then no one will, as five minutes into "I Give My Language To More Than History" the guitarist delivers a blowout to wake the dead. Wyche most often plays out solo, but here he is joined by drummer Ryan Packard to make freeform sludge-psych somewhere between Mainliner and Leeds duo Guttersnipe. "William's Song" unleashes the proverbial fury at roughly the same point, even as its freeness codes the music more as jazz than rock.
(Tiny Mix Tapes) Thousand-mile stares are based on distance. Not a measurable distance, but one that is of memory. Like logging onto a network and becoming fully engrossed in compressed complicity of condensing data. Or blips of clouds within your mind that ring along into an infinite swan-song of bliss. Daniel Wyche provides us, Our Severed Sleep [Eh???86]. Spiraling out of sweat. Control and motor skills at a maximum of minimum. Gazing. Twitching. REM. - C. Monster
(Disaster Amnesiac) There Disaster Amnesiac was a few weeks back, lamenting the fact that I'd seemingly been dropped from the Public Eyesore/eh? mailing list, and along came a mailer with a batch of new releases from Bryan Day's prolific label. If Bryan had decided to pass on the potential Disaster Amnesiac review treatment, I would not blame him: I've reviewed probably only half of the discs that he's sent to me. That said, ANYTHING that's on Public Eyesore/eh? is worth multiple listens. Mr. Day knows what's up re: experimental and improvised musical forms. The first of this most recent batch that I've had the pleasure of delving into is Daniel Wyche's Our Severed Sleep. Comprised of two almost twenty minute apiece tracks, Sleep covers all kinds of musical ground as Wyche on guitar and Ryan Packard on drums blast, plow, scrape and just really fucking play. Modern Electronic Music, Free Jazz, Doom Metal, Disaster Amnesiac has heard them all on this disc as I've listened, and much more to boot. Especially cool are the ways in which Wyche sets up these incredible sound ballasts, comprised of long, minimal feedback tones, upon which Packard displays his tremendous chops and musicality. Ryan can seriously play his drums and cymbals! A favorite example of this action occurs late in the first piece, I Give My Language To More than History, in which there's this slow-motion, almost Bill Ward playing. Yes, HEAVY! The guitar playing of Wyche is inventive and creative as well, and his talent for composition is amply evident on William's Song, with its patient pacing and dramatic results of such. Disaster Amnesiac has also really been digging his opening riff on the first iece, a minutes-long electronic squall, which is delicious in its noisy blasting. Our Severed Sleep features a solid amalgamation of sounds and influences, all expertly entwined into a very enjoyable forty minute head cleaner of a disc. Reconnect, wake up, and listen! - Mark Pino
(Invisible Oranges) Sleep problems? I can relate to that. But who said only bad things can come out of unpleasant situations? Daniel Wyche is an intriguing experimental musician, active in the Chicago scene, and alongside drummer Ryan Packard (Fonema Consort, Skeletons) builds a meditative album on his chronic sleep problems. Based on guitar feedback, this is a work of abstract experimentation. Elusive and yet overwhelming, the record becomes a psychedelic journey through improvisational means, including furious free rock and hardcore-esque outbreaks. An album that will let not you drowse off often comes from someone with chronic sleep problems. - Spyros Stasis
(Kathodik) Due notevoli accartocci di materiali doom astrali in tiro free elettroacustico. L'arte del raga potenziato/detritico, fra grattugiar stiracchioso di corde, l'inclusione del circostante (lo spazio vuoto in mormorio della seconda traccia), scatafasci liberi, improvvisi e battenti, un grammo + un grammo di “Metal Machine Music”. Detta in questa maniera par un nulla, eppure, nel suo organizzarsi canonico fra preparazione/impatto/rilascio, le due composizioni di Daniel Wyche (chitarra), eseguite in compagnia di Ryan Packard (batteria), suonano particolarmente riuscite. Strati di risonanze metalliche, sgroppate a scaracollo e lame di coltello. Oppure, il buio che s'offre di fronte, pulviscolo astrale che morde e strappa e poi di nuovo, silenzio fluttuante (fino alla prossima turbolenza).Muri di suono in innesco e scomposizioni ritmiche in caduta. Semplice, primitivo ed efficace. - Marco Carcasi