Trigger warning! Oh, sorry, you probably already got a couple eyefulls of mutilated genitals. Well, what can I tell you? Michaelous and his friends are not known for treading lightly. But it’s important for me to preface with the following Y-Incision is a force for self-love and individualism. As the frontman for this anarchistic grindcore band, Michaelous is flying that flag about as fucking high as one can.
Y-incision’s viscera graces the first five tracks of Split Your Dick, leaving the latter half for Rimjob. Y-incision’s half is a concept-album style, hyper-sexualized (natch) allegory for Orwell’s 1984. Despite the audible esophageal scab-scrape (grindcore compliment) of Michaelous’ vocals, the lyrics are discernible, but if you’re a metalhead of my ilk (pushes glasses up on nose), you will be delighted to know that the lyrics are also up on their bandcamp page and in the album sleeve! Spin that spillage and read along for a very Y-Incision experience!
It all begins, as many things should, with an ode to the toilet. Ah, an artist’s sanctuary. As a poet might introduce his verse with a sonnet about his favorite leather chair by the fireplace, so does Michaelous with the john on which he scrawls the moldy discharge (grindcore compliment) that is tracks 1-5.
And I’m not at all kidding when I say it’s poetic. Michaelous Cage is an honest to God Goddamned writer poet guy! He is descriptive, versatile in vocabulary, and well-read. It’s a juxtaposition that’s harmonious and jarring at the same time (much like grindcore in and of itself), to have these lyrics of this cultural gravitas and political (dis)charge, paired with these splendidly goopy riffs and instrumental arrangements.
The goopy riffs are courtesy of guitarist, Big Gay Tony. Big Gay is essentially a Pez dispenser, except instead of tasty candy tablets, he births riffs effortlessly on an infinite capacity. Fast, sludgy, and sticky, they drive the scuz train fierce and frenzied from penetration to exit wound (“Penetration to Exit Wound” album title up for grabs).
Drummer, Chimmy Chonga, is a monster on the toms. Akin to grindcore progenitors Extreme Noise Terror, his chaotic kit work provides a gleefully violent rail on which each song careens. At some points it sounds as if Chimmy has sprouted three extra arms and an extra leg and is just hitting everything at once like some sort of cartwheeling zombie octopus.
Y-Incision’s territory on Split Your Dick blends the viscous of erotic slapstick, egalitarian prophecy, and sexual identity empowerment into a compelling five-song work of art. Their video shoot/ live show is on Tuesday April 23rd at the Lookout. Rimjob will accompany them along with Bastard Eyes and Drug Salad. There will probably be nudity, as I personally witnessed Michaelous teabag some guy’s phone during his last live show. The event is going to be unlike anything you’ve ever seen.
Rimjob’s half of the album is like spelunking down the infected digestive tract oft some shit-eating pig dragon (grindcore compliment). The lyrics? Couldn’t tell you. Hell, there probably aren’t any, but Rimjob is more of a tonal experience. Karl Dahmer and his Kansas City cohorts snort and snarl their way through 5 singed and stained tracks. Each track is its own unique flash in the pan. I can’t believe none of the tracks are called Satan’s Diarrhea (grindcore compliment), but each track title is unforgettably unnerving. Scarring is another word for it. For instance, my favorite track is Open Mouth Insert Gun, insane drums. It’s like getting your eyelids pierced, but with music. It hurts, but it’s quick, and in the end, it’s an experience that lingers.
Dahmer also did the cringingly sick and gorgeous art for Y-Incision’s Disasturbator album. His pen work is sinewy, gory, and glorious.
