YØGA—Megafauna (Holy Mountain)

YØGA deal in pure sound, delivered in bursts of confusion and terror. The duo of Vatten Häst and Eld Anka don't give us much to go on, aside from the sound. The credits in the CD are minimal: no producer, no studio, no equipment lists, no thank yous to everyone they met on the road. Obscurity adds to the intrigue. Megafauna comprises 12 roiling vortexes of synths, guitars, drums and noise, swirling with soot and scattering debris across fields of sonic loathing. It’s like Darkthrone lighting incense and blissing out with Popol Vuh, with Kevin Shields mixing the results. The song titles reference a flying witch, the hidden people, a treeman, a warrior, the dreaded chupacabra. YØGA drag us down onto the mouldy earth, cowering from misshapen things glimpsed amidst the trees. Sometimes a riff works its way up from the mire—the martial doom theme of “Treeman” is especially strong—but when it does, the atmospheres over top threaten to snuff it out. No clean sounds exist on Megafauna. Everything is filthy, perverted beyond its natural resonance and oscillating out of control. Each track is its own little world—all fearful, haunted places—and the flow within each one demonstrates YØGA’s consideration for composition. Chaos resides on the surface, yet all is controlled inside. Sick minds are clearly at work, and I hope they're well stocked with ideas. I want to hear where they go next.