When C. Spencer Yeh makes a statement along the lines of "Not that I was going for anything intentionally grotesque, but I felt like kicking around these acoustic sounds really loud and dry, just made it more visceral," it's instinctive to assume he's referring to some instrumental or electronic effect or process capable of clearing a crowded singles bar with the flick of a volume knob. From sphincter-tightening scree to layer-cake drone to minimalist crackle, the Burning Star Core mainstay knows his noise P's, Q's, and Z's. The avant-garde stews in which Yeh has dipped a hand, a violin bow, or a mixing board—unruly, loopy, or shrink-wrapped—are legion, and the Cincinnatian–turned–New Yorker can often be found testing the limits of timbre locally, solo, and in collaboration with... More >>>
C.S. Yeh Transitions into a man comfortable with reverb.