Very happy with this wonderful review of the 2nd Yayoba album.

Go to the African Paper blog to read it (in German).

Here’s a g**gle translation in English:

Sometimes the uniqueness of a piece of music lies less in grand gestures than in the way the smallest details intertwine. Even upon first listening to Yayoba’s tape “Sensory Sensei,” released a few months ago, it’s striking how strongly the individual components not only sit side by side, but also shift within one another, creating a multifaceted, often surprising stream of sound. The title and music function like two layers of foil placed on top of each other: only in combination does the full imagery become clear.

Behind Yayoba are Paul Wilson (F. Ampism), Jani Hirvonen (Uton), and Johannes Schebler (Baldruin, and I’m only mentioning the probably best-known projects of all three), who have been experimenting with modular synths, percussion, and processed field recordings since their founding. With their debut album “A Maze Of Glass,” released on Not Not Fun, they have already developed a clearly recognizable profile and garnered considerable attention in the experimental biotopes of the world.

The opening track of the follow-up, “Apocryphal Stories,” still feels its way forward with playful synths, artificial birdsong, and a robust hum, almost like a whimsical adjustment of a frequency control. With “The Burning Of The Desert Seeds,” the mood becomes more remote—flowing, ambient, with an elusive soprano who repeatedly appears on the scene, tremolo-like, without ever becoming the center of attention. This already reveals the principle that runs through the album: less coherent songs and more collaged sequences in which motifs are arranged and juxtaposed, drawing focus to the marginal, which sometimes fills the entire track. “Churning Mind” seems to have been turned inside out: sounds that seem to be backwards, tinkling and squeaking details, almost like a music box in a dream state.

“Mirror Bounce Experience” strikes a harsher tone, yet remains lively and playful in its comic-like artificiality. “Born Before,” on the other hand, builds on tidal intervals combined with tropical-sounding chirps and hums—folk-like echoes are recognizable, but always filtered through a clearly artificial aesthetic. The central “The Radiant Glow Of Essence,” on the other hand, unfolds pathos in the best sense, carried by humming, bells, and orchestral-sounding pads. At this point, it becomes clear that the album isn’t just a mere piece of small-scale playfulness, but also possesses a certain degree of condensation. “Infinite Reflections” initially seems like a short interlude of croaking, hammering, and tinkling, but then transitions organically into a more flowing structure.

“Chattering Flower Spirits” remains very short, almost sketchy, before “Dance Along The Pilgrim Path” builds cinematically subtle tension with hand drums and orchestral hints in the background. “Wisdom Keepers” emphasizes a more serious side: an ambient flow that nevertheless carries a lot of unwieldy elements, rich in detail and intricate. “Corporeal Incarnation Forming,” on the other hand, is permeated by a swampy, aquatic atmosphere, in which croaking and chirping combine with tinkling accents. Concluding, “Waking-Dream Illusions” interweaves tremolo sounds, remnants of voices, and an ethereal floating between a semi-waking and dream state—a cinematic finale.

It is striking how strongly the titles of the pieces and the album itself shape the impact of the music. They allude to spiritual-mythological allusions, to images of nature, reflections, and states of consciousness. Terms like “Apocryphal Stories,” “Wisdom Keepers,” or “Corporeal Incarnation Forming” draw on a vocabulary that evokes religious and esoteric narrative traditions, while others address perception and self-reference. Taken together, this creates a kind of framework that sits like a second foil over the sounds – a semantic structure that doesn’t explain the music, but rather deepens it. Even the album title, “Sensory Sensei,” can be read in this sense: a “teacher of perception” who doesn’t convey content so much as guide forms of listening and experiencing, or even finds himself in them.

What also makes this album special is its recognizable signature in its sonic character. Nothing is angular or scratchy; everything appears smoothly smoothed, colorful, lively, cartoonish, and at times dreamily beautiful. At the same time, however, “Sensory Sensei” is extremely detailed; the abundance of small motifs and the speed with which they appear is impressive. Whether you are overwhelmed or delighted by this may depend on your own taste. For the author of these lines, the second reaction clearly prevails: rarely does one hear music that is so playful and artificial, yet still seems so harmonious. (U.S.)