The type of listener who buys obscure mini-CDs from underappreciated bands like, say, Gryphyns, is the very sort who would disregard any term spawned by a Spin article - that term being “Noise-punk." At the risk of adding FakeJazz to the long list of publications that have subconsciously adopted the Spin Doctrine of Wildly Inappropriate Genre Titles, I’m going to go ahead and place a neat, easy-to-read label on this Gryphyns single: “Noise-punk” it is.
Now that we’re comfortable with the category of Gryphyns’ music, allow me to justify the label. Gryphyns’ sound is heavy, low-end guitar, played just sloppily enough to come off better for it. The restrained drumming drives the long bass tones along, not at an excruciating doom tempo – which would be tempting, given the trend growing from that soon-to-be tired sound – but an intense pace that might bring the Melvins to mind.
This, along with the fuzzed political lyrics, is where the “punk” comes in.
The “noise” part comes from the only relief from the rhythm-heavy sound, squeals of what seems to be tape manipulation, strange feedback-looping, or both. They aren’t drones, but they aren’t exactly musical, either. By themselves, they would sound as though KK Null left his drum machine at home. It could not be argued that this part of Gryphyns’ sound is what should be referred to as the current hip genre, “noise.”
So there you have it. A real, living, “noise-punk” band. And, unlike the categorization crafted by the wizards at Spin, I would not lump this band in the same category as The Locust, Lightning Bolt, Wolf Eyes, or whatever ridiculous pool of supposedly like bands were thrown in that infamous blender of an article. At best, I could see some superficial connections between the aforementioned Melvins, and perhaps Mission of Burma. More importantly, I can hear a seminal sound developing in this recording, which will inevitably birth a truly great record in the future.
Curious onlookers, get involved before eBay prices take hold.
