"I have NEVER known what to say about The Cryptic Yeast. I remember their first couple of demo tracks left me scratching my head- not because I didn’t necessarily like what I heard, but because I couldn’t put my finger on what sound or genre I was listening to. With the programmed drums, it was definitely some electronic bastard-version of punk rock that you could almost dance to… I think. Like a lower-rent, less-annoying Atari Teenage Riot, completely wasted on pizza. All I knew is that it was kinda heavy, kinda catchy, and that I had to keep listening repeatedly to try and figure it out.

That was back in 2005, maybe 2006? Seven years later, I am STILL listening to the Yeast. On repeat. Trying to figure them out. Over the years, every time I thought I had them pegged, they’d change. They started out life with a good set of balls and a snotty nose… then on “Mechanically Separated” they grew teeth. The guitars got heavier, the drums beat harder, but the electronic edge wasn’t lost, only sharpened. Synth parts started being precisely injected into the songs instead of splattered across the sides. Now with their latest joint, “Extract The Red Treasure” (out on Human Beard Records), they’ve grown fucking gorilla arms and a megaphone in place of a mouth.

The vocals sound the best they ever have- tighter and increasingly more pissed off, like someone’s got a dentist’s drill strapped to George’s back teeth and cranked it to 10. (The layering of backup vocals also adds some great dynamics to certain songs.) From what sounds like little tastes of Slayer (“Eating Eternal Shit-Eating Grins”) to some of Helmet’s heaviest moments (“Naughty America”), Rob Fiasco’s guitar work summons some of the best aspects of the iconic “metal riff”; he effectively and entertainingly runs the gamut without ever overdoing his part. Combine all this with the CRUSHING drum sound they’ve achieved this time around, and that special “scumbag finesse” these guys have for songwriting, and you’ve got “Extract The Red Treasure”. Clocking in at just over 11 minutes, this EP is so short yet so dynamic from song to song you just HAVE to listen to it a handful of times to soak it all in, and each listen is better than the last.

So what’s the verdict? What the hell am I listening to? Next time I sport my Cryptic Yeast shirt to a show, what do I tell my elitist “in-crowd” buddies when they ask? Is it a punk band or a grindcore band? Are they an INDUSTRIAL band with all that drum machine in there? Or should I just call them a plain old “metal” band?? I mean, they don’t have a REAL drummer, right? Are they even BRUTAL??? –No dickhead, they’re none of the above. They’re two dudes who couldn’t care less about keeping track of their scene points, and probably sound a lot better than your band does because of it. They’re The Cryptic fucking Yeast, and well… you’re not."

-->Walt Liquor,Florida Noise Ordinance
Staff Writer