RYOK by MOPCUT

Is it noise? Jazz? Free improv? Rock 'n roll? Minimalism? Sound art? Punk? MOPCUT's third full-length is their most divergent, most genre liquefying statement yet, an album that creeps mischievously across the experimental scene at large, devouring its innovations and spitting away any lofty conceptual fat. With guest appearances from avant rap vanguard dälek, Philly poet and activist Moor Mother and esteemed turntablist and composer Mariam Rezaei, 'RYOK' oozes between various interconnected movements, constantly mutating and reanimating itself in the process. Unlike its predecessor 'JITTER', a set of 25 hyper-kinetic miniatures, 'RYOK' plays like cracked mirror image of classic album: nine dynamic, fully fleshed-out tracks that force us to question everything we think we know about structure, texture and physicality in music.

MOPCUT emerged back in 2018 as a collaboration between Taiwanese-American improv virtuoso Audrey Chen (on vocals and synth), celebrated Austrian percussionist Lukas König and idiosyncratic French guitarist Julien Desprez. Chen's visceral, electronically manipulated vocalizations - that range from guttural croaks to ear-piercing bawls - are already notorious at this stage thanks to a slew of vital solo works and diverse collaborations, while König's omnivorous approach to rhythm provides the backbone to albums like 2023's acclaimed '1 Above Minus Underground', and his collaboration with Elvin Brandhi and Peter Kutin, 'ParziFoooooooooooL'. Desprez, meanwhile, has spent decades turning a love of rock and jazz into an exploration of space and body movement, developing his own guitar technique that treats the motion of his feet on the effects pedals like a tap dance.

All of these various skills are laid out immediately on opening track 'SISMICA', when we hear Chen's stutters, wails and freeform improvised raps criss-cross with König's jerky stop-start beats and Desprez's juddering, metallic prangs. As an introduction, it works flawlessly, establishing the trio's sonic palette before they shift into fresh territory on 'WHERE TO BEGIN', forming their haphazard, chaotic noise into a bumpy beatscape for New Jersey MC dälek. Anyone who's been following dälek's output over the years will already know how comfortable he is rapping over unexpected backdrops, and his flow flawlessly marries with MOPCUT's punkish assemblage of oscillations, foley cracks and hoarse croaks. And after circling droned-out psychedelic rock on 'SEVEN ELEVEN', the trio curate an ominous, minimalist environment with 'REST TODAY', quieting their bluster for a moment to give Moor Mother's helium-voiced poetry the spotlight.

"I'm off," she squeaks. "No shadow, I'm beyond the planets." White noise hisses in the distance, while Chen's voice is reduced to a terrifying, phantasmagoric moan. This helps build the tension until MOPCUT's energy is released in under a minute on the title track, a rowdy improv-punk vignette that does exactly what it promises to. But it's the album's false ending 'Angelica' that provides the biggest surprise. A potent concoction of warbling, almost meditational drones, it's only intensified by Chen's unexpected operatic cries. It's not quite over yet, either: there's a "remix" from Mariam Rezaei that shows off her signature needle weaving technique, metamorphosing MOPCUT's live stems until they sound like industrial hardstyle, plus the 'TOPCUM REMIX', that ices the cake with a burst of instinctive machine noise.

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