Send "YOB " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Invisibleoranges |
 YOB and Hate Eternal resonate deeply with me, and I think of them in the same thought. They both defy the chthonic bent of their respective milieus (doom metal, death metal). They do so not just through reference (lyrics), but also in deed. Their records are massive exertions of effort that would make Werner Herzog proud. They traffic in duality, both lyrically and musically (beastly lows, turbulent highs), and they grapple with the notion of being, as opposed to the destruction of being. The title of Yob’s new record, Atma (Profound Lore, 2011), refers to the Buddhist concept of self. The title track breaks down to a relentless one-chord plod, as a new age-y voiceover explains “atma”: “that means self in the vastest possible sense”. God and Satan are null and void here.My favorite YOB record remains 2005’s The Unreal Never Lived. To me, it’s the fullest exposition of the band’s “cosmic doom”, reaching skyward without needing a dealer. Since then, the band has felt mostly terrestrial on record. Though powerful in typical YOB fashion, 2009’s The Great Cessation frustrated me a little by not hitting the same highs. Most of Atma does likewise, with a dry sound that’s admirable ethically though not necessarily the best choice. I love the Steve Albini m.o., even for applications that aren’t obvious – see his recording of Zao – but goshdarnit, I prefer YOB with crazy effects and Mike Scheidt’s squawk piercing the heavens, and my ears liquefying. Admittedly, that’s an easy payoff. There’s merit in YOB denying it. Most of Atma is pulverization – but just because it’s dirt doesn’t mean it’s mundane. Live, this is the type of stuff that transcends through effort. Fuck long enough, and cum might result; play hard and slow/fast enough (YOB/Hate Eternal), and through sheer electric grind, one emerges sweaty and happier. For all the defenders of the sanctity of the album (I’m one), that’s a 20th century innovation. Live music’s 3-D experience has existed since the first musical instrument, and YOB harness that power better than most. If they don’t always hit that mark on some plastic/petroleum document, I don’t mind. They do hit that mark on Atma’s closer, “Adrift in the Ocean”. It opens with droning, quivering clean tones evoking both Indian music and Americana. Admittedly, I’m biased towards such references (California/Whole Foods/yoga/etc. – guilty on all charges). But when they segue into simmering toms which flower into surging riffs and tritones, then return, distorted and searing the upper register – the T-word which the cynical shun, “transcendent”, is apt. After metal’s decades-long binge on necrosis, “self in the vastest possible sense” is refreshing....full text |
| Dustedmagazine |
| Despite the visibility a certain strain of doom has received in the last decade – owing largely to the high profile of Southern Lord releases, and a few very prominent bands in particular (no knock on them) – the sub-genre is still a fairly misunderstood one. Many folks will associate it with either the druggy riff-obsession of the Cathedral/Orange Goblin/Electric Wizard tradition or the heavy drones of the Earth/Esoteric/Sunn 0))) tradition. Not only is it simplifying to classify bands in those ways, even if we acknowledge the accuracy of those placeholders, there’s a shit-ton of doom left hanging that confounds these impressions. And this is where Oregon’s YOB has always lived, as the trio has carved out its own heavily melancholic, melodic, and emotionally heavy music over the course of four full-lengths (and one by Middian, singer/guitarist Mike Scheidt’s brief sojourn away from YOB). While the band has always had a fanatical following, until recently they’ve been sadly overlooked. This makes little sense, given an undeniably broad appetite for heaviness and trance-inducing music in the last decade. But then again, every listener has a shortlist of bands they deem more worthy of greater acclaim, and since moving to Profound Lore with 2009’s The Great Cessation, YOB has started a push toward the front rank that fifth album Atma should only continue. With the first passages of “Prepare the Ground,” we’re reminded that YOB’s universe is defined by a certain kind of harmonic motion as much as by the power of the riff. Mike S’s particular melancholies – heard in his phaser-heaving guitar tone, his nasal keening cum bellow, and the tug of the chord progressions he favors – are immediately recognizable. And, at the usually glacial pace (nowhere more than on the lengthy epics that he includes on each album, here with the closing “Adrift in the Ocean”), it’s very hard to resist falling into this world. And indeed, the opener has the same kind of downward pull and angst heard on The Great Cessation. But lest you think it’s just another YOB album (no bad thing), the title track is a positively slashing, mid-tempo fury of repetition and punctuations. This level of aggression and rhythmic urgency is new for the band, and is pretty great live, too....full text |
| Pitchfork |
| If you spend some time digging through interviews and profiles of YOB, you'll find the consensus on the long-running heavy-as-full-stacks army of Oregon's Mike Scheidt is that his band fits partially into nearly half a dozen interconnected subgenres: psychedelic rock, stoner rock, stoner metal, blues metal, and, most consistently, doom metal. From associated instruments to target demographics, several factors unite those niches, not least of which is the propensity to indulge a sound, solo, or song for minutes on end. As it is with High on Fire, so it is with Hawkwind, and as it is with Earth, so it is with Eyehategod: When a band latches onto something it loves, be prepared to go the distance. YOB, it seems, is no different: "The Great Cessation", the title track of the trio's previous album, was a colossal 21-minute closer that took its time snaking through several obsessions, from the twinkling introduction and a throbbing mid-tempo midsection to a monolithic coda that felt like a great, malevolent sigh. Similarly, "Adrift in the Ocean" ends the band's latest LP Atma with a magnificent 16-minute rise: Middle Eastern-influenced guitars tessellate over teased cymbals until the full trio of Scheidt, drummer Travis Foster, and bassist Aaron Reiseberg lurches forward, rising and collapsing in thick, deliberate bursts for about eight minutes. Like its predecessor, Atma closes in a glorious burnout, Scheidt's post-rock-sized guitar solo ultimately smearing into a drone over a mangled drum limp. One of YOB's chief accomplishments here and throughout much of its discography has been its sterling ability to maintain a sense of momentum, whether the track ends after five minutes or pushes into the teens. The shortest of Atma's five tunes, "Upon the Sight of the Other Shore", nears the eight-minute mark thanks to several Geezer Butler-gone-Godflesh verses and a handful of guitar solos. Its sense of constant movement, though, isn't unlike that of the preceding "Before We Dreamed of Two", the album's 16-minute, three-part marathon: In spite of languid riffs and an occasional absence of drums, "Dreamed" never sits anywhere for too long and, more important, never bores....full text |
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