THE PRESS RELEASE
“Ryte’s debut album is basically the result of an intense one-and-a-half-year writing process (late 2016 – early 2018), which was definitely fueled by a very creative and communal spirit within the band. The album consists of four long tracks which were constructed and developed carefully over time. The flow came totally natural as every member participated equally and contributed their very own personal abilities. The album definitely pushes the boundaries of Psych rock as it is influenced by countless styles of music including Doom, Prog Rock, Jazz and even World Music. The sound is dominated by down-tuned, sometimes doomy, sometimes epic twin guitars, dynamic and jazzy drums, distorted, playful basslines and spacey Theremin landscapes. Even though vocals are rare they do exist and are done either by Lukas or Arik, while the lyrics refer to freaked-out sci-fi stuff. Production-wise Hannes himself took over the project and recorded the LP at his own rehearsal space.”
MY TWO CENTS
If I’ve learned one thing in my half-century plus of paddling and piddling in this piss-pool, it is this: To get anywhere in this endlessly wretched life, you gotta go big! And I’m not talking about your stupid dream of making hot sauce in your garage. I mean BIG! Huge! Colossal! Gargantuan! Am I getting through to you here? OK, let’s switch gears: Allow me to illuminatize you further by foisting upon you an example most timely and tuneful. And big. Bigger than big. In deed and fact, amid this backwater galaxy of the infinite space-rock universe, few albums could be said to be bigger, bolder and flat-out ballsier than this self-titled epic monstrosity (but I mean that in an awesomely good way) from the hirsute, intergalactic time-travelling titans of Ryte. (They really should spell that in all flaming caps or something so as to better reflect the aforesaid awesomeness.) These major dudes may or may not make their home in Austria, based on one member’s FB page, but when you brass-tack it, their passport stamps don’t really make one damn bit of neveryoumind in this whole equation. What matters is their holy-craptastic sound: An all-encompassing, mind-melting creation that exists in a time, place and temporal plane all of its own, and of its own making, like the infinite palace of some immortal and all-powerful god. And swank digs they are: Consisting of four majestic, boundless sonic sojourns that average nine-plus minutes in length and lava-flow between genres from psyche and doom to prog and more, this transcendent orb of originality and intensity beams up for consciousness and takes it for a hotwired joyride out to the edge of the universe, then swooshes you straight to the gooey lizard-brain center of your trembling mind before straddling the line between the beginning and ending of time itself — all while seeming chronicling the evolution of hoomankind with Kubrickian titles like Raging Mammoth, Shaking Pyramid, Monolith and Invaders. I’m still not sure what it’s all about, but I know this: The truth is in here somewhere. And I intend to find it. Come along if you want to live.