What they offer are nothing less than new forms of beauty in song. Phantasies and Senseitions overflows with a microcosmic (un)rock that offers succor to people bored rigid by the formulaic record-collection plundering that most groups call songwriting. Phantasies and Senseitions has the refreshing splendor of naive folk art, that sense of being timeless and utterly natural…Bugskull breathe ingenuity like the rest of us mortals inhale oxygen.

Steve Savoca, CMJ New Music Report, 4/10/95

Portland, Oregon’s lo-fi dreamers arc-weld electronic ambience and indie rock into an airtight container and cast it into a watery grave….The result is lavishly textured, rich with imagery and suffused with sad beauty and maddening isolation.

Kathy Molloy, Snipehunt, Spring 1995

Bugskull are the sleeping giants of Portland, amiable young men who are rather adept at building high-rise soundscrapers of sleepy guitar, whirring electronics and quivery vocals…The violin, spooky organ and assorted reeds, blips and beeps give one the impression of Pink Floyd and Chrome dueling in a submarine. If you thought all the hip Portland scene had to offer was grease monkey rock and its attendant introspective solo careers, get wise to the muzzy psychedelia of Bugskull.

Sweet Portable You, June, 1995

Bugskull is continuing to fashion a kind of honeycomb of their own atmospheric blurgh and this eighteen-tracker has to stand of such big strength as to be called the cornerstone. A real nineties record of ambiguous sway and sinew; a great accomplishment from all my angles.

Bronx Cheer #1

The vinyl output of these Portland fellows has been most impressive…On the race to drone pop heaven you’ve got Stereolab, Bugskull and Flying Saucer Attack and it’s anybody’s guess who’ll end up on top; just don’t do yourself the disservice of missing out on their efforts.

Dave Segal, Alternative Press, July, 1995

Bugskull…create some of the most expansive, distinctive lo-fi music of the 90s… Bugskull are the soul of subtle inventiveness, masters of seduction by sonic understatement.

Amazon Description

Bugskull’s debut album is sonically all over the map, though without annoying “genre hopping.” There are gorgeous reed-accented instrumentals, floating tape loop stun-whispers, space travels, lonely noise, scratchy guitar pop and outright weirdness. It all bears the distinctive Bugskull stamp of gentle dissonance, spacious melodicism and a cushy low end delivered with nary a cliche or heavy hand. People keep saying it’s diverse yet cohesive, and you should believe them.

The three-person Bell/Byrne/Yu lineup, with the help of a couple of guest performers along the way, creates a fascinating collection of low-key experimental tracks on Snakland, refracting independent pop sensibilities through a variety of production touches and approaches. “Mind Phaser” is a strong high point, with what would normally be a majestic post-shoegaze anthem heavily tweaked and transformed. Byrne’s vocals float up through heavy murk and echo, while his zone-out guitar work and Yu’s drums are similarly treated — it’s almost like hearing the song through a wall but without losing any of its power. Flecks of the dub side of Byrne’s work come out a bit more clearly as the album progresses, with “Egg Chamber” mixing a deep echoed bass-and-beat combination with frazzled guitar, some strange keyboards washes, and a vocal proclaiming “Weeeeeee… are coming… from the skies.” Some cuts are fairly lengthy, others mere fragments like the minute-long “Long Corridor #8,” with bits of guitar fuzz and percussion kicking around quietly enough. The title track is a particularly fine fusion of approaches, with Byrne’s vocals and slide guitar buried low in the mix. A drum pattern and various echoing ambient touches and quirks stand far more to the fore. “Bouncer” also has some nice guitar work, while the concluding “Exit Wound” is a good psych jammer with falsetto from Byrne and further music from a “Space Sausage” courtesy of guest performer Phil Quitsland. Extra credit goes for the cover art, featuring a friendly frog puppet on the back and the disc itself. Not quite Kermit, but an incredible simulation.

BUGSKULL “Snakland” (Scratch)

arrangement, with flutes, clarinets, electronic gadgets everywhere and continuous games and exchange of roles between guitar, drums, keyboards and bass, which overlap and challenge the listener in a melange of sounds that fascinate the most stoned Julian Cope outweighed left to madness and sometimes even genius. But do not imagine confusings music: at best they are confusing. The young men who come up with all three (in small lineup compared to the first album) and called Sean Byrne, Brendan Bell and James Yu and for this their third LP still widening the net of its electronic sound while eliminating nearly all the vocal parts and the tepid folk accemts. The CD is great, although we must admit that the debut had better songs, more measured and calibrated. Here the band is spreading, stretching and jarring. They have also managed to avoid the tendency to get lost in your own sound. It will be easy but fall in love with the art of lysergic lullabies of Snakland and From the skies , as well as with the robotic camouflated rhythms of Bouncer. It will be a pleasure to immerse yourself  in that psychedelic oceanic remnant a la Mercury Rev that goes under the name of Mind Phaser and then drown in the following Egg chamber, capable of flirting with the environment. It is almost logical, then, to expect a tour de force as the Final Exit Wound, 11 minutes, where the multiple influences add up and break down into an excellent picture of acid post ambient. Missing this would mean neglecting one of the most intriguing musical experiences of recent months.

(8) (Stefano I. Bianchi)

flashback to 1997 and in the world of underground droning weirdness, bugskull were heavyweight champions. the revolving cast of characters always centered around sean byrne. he concocted buckets full of syrupy delights that encompassed everything from electronica, post-rock, dub, noise and endless pop hooks. byrne was joined by multi-instrumentalist brendan bell and percussionist james yu throughout the latter half of the ’90s, taking bugskull from bedroom wonder to full-blown magic carpet band. bugskull released records and singles on some of the great experimental labels of the day such as road cone, scratch, and shrimper. i can safely say that as i was discovering experimental music during my mid & late teens, bugskull were one of my all-time favorite bands.

the last album byrne released was in 2002, “the big white cloud,” which followed-up the acclaimed “distracted snowflake” duology. during the late ’90s, byrne recorded a third album that extended the themes of the “snowflake” records. due to label issues and disputes, this third album never came out until now, almost ten years later. “communication” is the bookend to the hypnotic reverie created by “distracted snowflake” volumes 1 & 2. with layers of organ and synth floating like cotton candy on top of dub and hip-hop infused beats, byrne is in top form.

“communication” isn’t so much a lost album as it is confirmation of a legacy and declaration of intent. bugskull is back. from the tribal beach vibes of “high steppin’ ii” right down to the drenched bones of the droning, black river sonics of “subterranean life,” this album brings everything that made bugskull so great and concentrates it on two sides of vinyl. upbeat, fast-moving synth lines bob and move in minimal electronic waves while violins moan on “squeaky bagpipe.” the title track is an exercise in restraint as byrne uses turntables and molasses-paced guitars to the listener into a false sense of serenity, only to be drowned in opiates and put to bed by “pondlife.” whether he’s created simple, deceptive trips with sparse, but effective rhythmic cues or is just wallowing in the aural beauty of sine tones and synth drones, byrne doesn’t ever let up.

for those who have been as big of fans i have through the years, you probably never thought another bugskull album would show up on the horizon. i know i didn’t. but after seven years of waiting for something fresh, it’s all worth it in the end to start the journey from scratch.

vinyl only and limited to 300 copies

*ONE OF THE MOST SURPRISING, VARIED AND KNOCKOUT ALBUMS OF THE YEAR, RANGING FROM WIDESCREEN SOUNDSCAPES TO INTIMATE DRONE TRANSMISSIONS, HIP HOP VARIATIONS AND MINIATURE BLEEPY INTERLUDES – AN ABSOLUTE MUST* Between 1992 and the early 2000′s, former folksinger turned lo-fi avant-garde minstrel Bugskull (aka Sean Byrne) released a string of highly acclaimed compositions for a selection of Portland, Oregon’s finest independent imprints. Since then his name has circulated in hushed tones among those in the know as a progenitor of the burgeoning experimental scene centred around the small NorthWest American city. His body of work has drawn comparisons to everyone from John Cage to Syd Barrett, placing him further outside the indie envelope than fellow Portland contemporaries like Pavement or Elliot Smith. Sonically, his work covers drone, free-jazz and dadaist psychedelia, and this massively anticipated new album ‘Communication’ is one of the most varied, original and satisfying records we’ve heard this year, tied together by a strong melodic identity and tendency towards off-balance textural counterpoints. This album (the first in nearly a decade) is split between one side of relaxed, beat driven psyche, and a side of engrossing pastoral ambience, appealing to a wide range of sensibilities and tastes. On the beat driven 1st side we can hear echoes of J Dilla in the low-slung and jazzy basslines of ‘Exposed Wires’ or ‘Floppy Drive’, but arranged with an organic slacker quality, while the alien melody and gentle bite of the tape distortion on ‘High Steppin’ II’ reminds of early Aphex Twin or the the cosmic circuitry of Italy’s Ra.H modified by Hauntology pioneer Position Normal. On the 2nd side, the strings of the title track immediately remind of Edward Williams’ chamber music for ‘Life On Earth’, but in lo-fi miniature, played with Stars Of The Lid, before plunging into hiss-textured field recordings and subtle audio hallucinations on ‘Pondlife’ and finishing on the tender acoustic guitar bliss of ‘What’s That Light’. The range and scope of sounds on display here is jawdropping, sounding like the work of far more than one artist, but apart from a few contributions on guitar, calimba and organ, it’s the brainchild of one very intriguing character in modern music. Incredible.