Lingyuan Yang: Cursed Month

Lingyuan Yang emerges from the shadows of New York's experimental jazz scene with his debut album, Cursed Month. This seven-track odyssey channels the unlucky lunar phases of Chinese astrology into a sonic tempest. Released in 2025 on Chaospace Records, this trio effort features Yang on guitar and electronics, Shinya Lin on piano, and Asher Herzog on drums. At 45 minutes, it unfolds like a ritual gone awry, blending dense compositions with free improvisation.

The tracks bleed together, starting with "Ritual Fire," an eleven-minute epic that sets the tone with grandiose swells and delicate trickles. Yang's clean, high-treble guitar weaves quartertones like sly whispers from another dimension, while Lin's piano storms in percussively amid moments of near quietude, while Herzog's drums thunder with emphatic commentary. It is as if the trio summons ancient spirits, only to realize they have invited the wrong guests to the party, guests who prefer turmoil over congenial chit-chat.

"Mondial" follows, delving into jagged, Cecil Taylor-esque improvisation atop a sublime melodic riff. Lin's lightning-fast runs evoke bebop's ghost, but twisted through a funhouse mirror, where notes bend unnaturally thanks to Yang's microtonal mischief. Herzog hangs in with Escher-like rhythmic patterns, turning what could be a straightforward jam into a labyrinthine puzzle. One might chuckle at the thought: If standard jazz is a smooth cocktail, this track serves it shaken, stirred, and spiked with something otherworldly.

Deeper in, "Send Off the Ghosts" erupts with rolling piano cascades and irregular meters, Yang twisting notes over a volatile mass—taut energy pushing against implosion, reminiscent of Henry Cow sans horns. The piece builds to a cathartic release before collapsing into silence, leaving the listener suspended in a state of uncertainty. Yet "Bloodstain" offers a different approach: staggered free-form motifs and interlocking lines create a controlled overload, where the trio navigates dissonance with surgical precision. Each musician occupies their own sonic space while contributing to a collective fever dream, proving that chaos, when harnessed, can yield unexpected beauty.

The album demands undivided attention; a whirlwind of ideas stacked in relentless momentum. Yang, mentored by avant-garde luminaries like Matt Mitchell and Anna Webber, crafts a brooding beast—unique, beautiful, and occasionally wicked. In a genre crowded with imitators, this album stands as a spellbinding hex. Just beware: repeated listens may curse one with an insatiable craving for more.

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