The music Paik plays is a mix between Slowdive, mid-80s Cure guitar wailing and Low's brooding, slumber-time style. This twelve song CD is entirely instrumental, relying on drawn-out arrangements and meandering jams to create its mood and feeling. It would appear this band has spent considerable time and money in the "effects" section of the guitar store as their instruments sound as though they've been run through many circuits to create a hazy, wafting and echoing morass of sound. It's the sort of thing that can entrance one if they're not careful. And if you are the careful type, there's really no sense in you buying this CD, right?

The Orson Fader is a rough edged sort of dreampop without the pop. Fans of Hawkwind styled "space rock" might not quite grasp this, but those who enjoy hearing guitar playing strung out, distorted, given ample amounts of feedback and a dose of valium may find Paik of interest.

reviewed by: John Chedsey for Satan Stole My Teddybear

The aforementioned opener is a perfect example, ripping through the same monster-sized riff enough times to alarm anyone within a wall or two from your stereo. Added to an already explosive bottom register is a single timpani straight out of Norse mythology, which barrels its way through the rest of the album. "Tall Winds", "Purple" and "Star 80" all open with clean guitar and semi-hooks stolen straight from Mogwai's Young Team, then take off into separate stratospheres of growling drone that walk a fine line between sonic assault and trance-inducing reverie. Paik keeps this balance throughout, following the feedback meltdown of "Low Battery Transmission" with the stately, slow-building "Ghost Ship" and interspersing longer tracks with brief, hazy smears of humming-amp ambience.

Focus and simplicity separates Paik from a host of other meandering space-rock bands who mistake jamming for playing, and The Orson Fader is proof that a rigorous sense of structure and a lot of passion can go a long way. If you've fallen asleep at least once to Stars of the Lid, this disc is the perfect wake-up call.

reviewed by: Matt Pierce for Splendid

reviewed by: George Parsons for Dream Magazine

Detroit space-rock trio Paik is ostensibly named for the Korean-born artist Nam June Paik, an early champion of video as a relevant artistic medium. Much of the Fluxus artist’s early work was generated by the Paik-Abe video synthesizer, a device that abstracted luminescent images into what Paik called “an electronic watercolor for everybody to see.” The band from Detroit generates an aural version of this electronic watercolor, but they pierce it with a jackhammer. The resulting sounds are among the most gigantic and pummeling of the crowded space-rock set, but they’re also among the most beautiful.

The Orson Fader is Paik’s third full-length, and it makes good on the promise of both their earlier records and their fantastic live show. Opening with a burst of feedback and a cymbal roll, “Detroit” quickly establishes just how enormous a guitar can sound. Each reverberating note is unfurled at languid intervals and matched beat for beat with bass kick and thunderous, echoing timpani. The texture is grim and grainy – like an orchestra of coughing, backfiring engines that feels rooted in the cold industrial skyline of its milieu – but the bottom layer of the song’s strata boasts a seductive trace of melody. It’s an alluring combination – a wispy haze of purple smoke tangled with the acrid, heavy exhaust of industrial machinery. One imagines stumbling around the Ford Motor plant high on fumes, the repetitive grind of machinery and irregular flash of sparks bouncing off corrugated aluminum siding, all things nightmarishly pleasant.

Fuss over Paik tends to center on how much noise they manage to generate with three sets of hands, but the fact that one guitar line is distinctly buried under all of the reverb and distortion is key to their sonic clarity. Similar to a band like Explosions in the Sky, Paik drive relentlessly forward, unwilling to bathe for long in their washes of sound. Much of their momentum is generated through churning, accumulating repetition, stretching The Orson Fader’s best tracks to the seven- or eight-minute mark, but no farther. “Ghost Ship” is among the finest, arising out of an unusually quiet opening of chiming guitar and bass-driven melody. When the drums kick in, they’re high in the mix, offsetting the rich bass end with high snare and cymbal before being drowning in the whirling guitar maelstrom. Even here – the closest Paik comes to a sound one could tag as pastoral – there is that harsh, metallic sourness to the guitars; Paik’s “Ghost Ship” feels less like a Spanish galleon than a naval tanker corroded with rust, yet is no less haunted.

The Orson Fader’s title track is probably the best of the lot. It opens enormously with a ringing, repetitive guitar note and aching bass line before exploding in intervals over the course of eight minutes. Its pixilated bursts of sound seem incapable of growing larger, but they swell and swell with a cathartic roar of combustion. Every machine in Detroit seems to grind, every gasket to belch steam, but the roar is strangely autumnal. Industry rarely sounds this sublime.

reviewed by: Nathan Hogan for Dusted Magazine

reviewed by: Massimiliano Zambetta

reviewed by: Babysue LMNOP Reviews

Formed in 1997 by guitarist Rob Smith, bassist Ali Clegg and drummer Ryan Pritts, the band have two proper releases (1998's Hugo Strange and 2001's Corridors) and a two-track single (Spacer) already under their belt. No vocals, just intense three-instrument arrangements that channel the guitar fury of Mogwai while keeping the pace of things in check and leaving the listener feeling like they're being smothering ever so slowly under a heavy fog of distortion. And therein lies the post-rock secret: atmosphere -- something Paik has in spades.

All the best instrumentals tell stories, and of those the better ones convey a sense of travel. Sianspheric's The Sound of the Colour of the Sun was an autumnal sunrise unfolding from the dark pre-dawn cold of an east coast train ride. And while Paik originates from Detroit and uses their home as inspiration for their music, to me The Orson Fader is a ship's voyage across an expansive ocean, with most of the album's lengthy cuts taking generous time to rise, swell and fade back again. The opening track, "Detroit," feels like being onboard Captain Cook's famous ship Endeavour, awash in a raging storm. Black waves carry the ship up their backs only launch the vessel over their shoulders and back down to the bottom of the swell. "Purple" finds the ship at rest after the storm on a serene, moonlit night. "Low Battery Transmission" are echoes from the fathomless deep of the sailors who've come before but never returned, and "Ghost Ship" are their storied adventures brought back home in somber, but proud, reverie. "Loops for Chrome" are the creaking timbers of the ship at the midnight hour, dreaming but awake; "Twilight Storms" a distant lighthouse beacon beckoning; and "Red Current" our arrival in new, strange lands, under an unfamiliar and unforgiving sun.

Painting from the primary colors of guitar, bass and drums, with The Orson Fader Paik has masterfully created a beautiful piece of art that is vast in its complexity but still intimate in its accessibility. Known for their legendary multimedia live shows, I can only imagine what this would sound like live and up front. I would be interested in seeing Paik perform alongside Isis, another band of disciplined sonic storytellers who released their own nautical masterpiece last year, Oceanic. While Isis leans a little more to towards the metal edge, I think both would compliment each other nicely. The Orson Fader is well worth taking the time to investigate. Pick it up and set sail on your own travels.

reviewed by: Craig Young for earpollution.com

reviewed by: Godsend Online

Paik’s tracks are instrumental, and these songs all burn with a listlessness that suggests a sort of hopeless float through the cosmos. “Black Car” really illustrates this well: among the crashing cymbals there is a colossal wave of charring distortion that bellows like mad, shakes the speakers even at a low volume yet simultaneously the vibe it all gives off is somewhat calm. That is, until it all begins to spiral out of control. Ambient, somewhat less noisy moments like “Ghost Ship” beckon images of Joy Division on valium minus Ian Curtis’s fractured croon. “Red Current”, the final track, leaves the listener without closure; instead, one feels that the experience remains unresolved and incomplete.

Fans or explorers of noisy rock terrain should definitely invest in Paik, as their compelling sounds will please ears tuned to appreciate such music. The Orson Fader is a space rock gem.

reviewed by: FAC193

Hovering somewhere between Mogwai, Tarentel, Explosions In The Sky and My Bloody Valentine, The Orson Fader is the third album from the group, and it's by far their most realized. The release opens with "Detroit," and although it's obviously just a warmup, the track heaves and groans under the weight of all three parts of the group pushed to their limit. Guitar and bass play along together, locked in some thick dropstep as toms and cymbals ring out to eternity. Eventually, the track gives way to "Tall Winds," and the album starts off a little more in earnest. After some nice guitar and bass interplay, the group again locks into an absolutely thunderous chorus, bleeding EQ levels red and letting loose a dense wall.

"Purple" arrives as one of the best tracks on the disc, as the opening leaves all instruments room to breath nicely, playing out all of the things that I mentioned above. Guitars ring out with almost a Southeastern twang while the bass adds a thick backbone and drum sounds wash out over a wide expanse. After building into another loud crescendo and subsequent moment of swirling noise, I'm suddenly reminded of the slogan that was printed on the back of the recent Lift To Experience album ("Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Playing With One Guitar").

That last statement is one of chutzpa, but Paik really does manage to amaze with their shifting textures of sound. Sure, the quiet/loud thing has been done before many a time, but the way the group has laid things down brings something slightly new to the table yet. Although the sound is a smidge on the muddy side at times, The Orson Fader absolutely drops the gauntlet at moments, and the time spent getting to there is almost just as nice. The album-titled "Orson Fader" runs for just over 8 minutes, but like many of the other tracks on the disc, the sounds alone that are pulled out of the instruments will leave you a bit spaced out. In the end, some of the tracks blur together a bit because the song structures tend to follow somewhat similar paths, but if you're one of those people who like to sit back and absorb undulating waves of amazing guitar textures, this is 12 songs and just over an hour of pure bliss.

reviewed by: almostcool.org

On The Orson Fader, the band shies away from partaking in clean melodic tones and remains dirty and noisy for most of their soundscapes. Regardless of changing their sound to a slightly darker and heavier feel, the band remains top notch. "Tall Winds" really gets things going quickly with feedbacking distorted and in-your-face guitars, which saturate the listener's ear. One can only imagine how completely intense this would be to experience live. The group ebbs and flows, sounding complete and droning part of the time to slowly build up their crescendos. "Purple" also moves slow and takes almost an oceanic feel, like the tides that are swaying back and forth. Imagine yourself on a boat while light waves moves you about and the day remains clear. Suddenly, the clouds become dark and the storms starts to set in. You're moving all about in your tiny ship and being thrown all over the place. It's chaotic and intense, and the song is reminiscent of such a feeling. The adrenaline is pumping and the excitement is building. Definitely music to be blasted loudly till the neighbors call the cops on you.

"Black Car" fucks shit up just as hardcore, it's almost as if these guys get-off on trying to deafen their audience. It sounds like these that can take the paint off of the wall. A definite ode to earlier Sonic Youth, it works well for them. "Ghost Ship" is another great track that remains somewhat clean and swaying, quite similar to the Corridors material. This is the kind of music you just put on and it takes you somewhere else, a virtual out-of-body experience. The title track of the record also makes a great impression on me. Paik has a trademarked sound for watery guitars that sound slightly out of tune and it gives it that in-motion type of feeling. As usual they build up quite nicely with these jams and kick it up a couple notches. I feel this track in particular really shows the true power of the basslines in providing melody in the noise and precise drumbeats, which make it flow so naturally.

Paik is a band not to be talked about, described, or written about. They are meant to be heard. Their sound is forceful, and their sheer talent in creating memorable noise in unparalleled.

reviewed by: Jeff Cooper for Delusions of Adequacy

What struck me most about this album is its two-pronged enjoyment potential. When played quietly, this album provides a nice, somber ambiance to which to read (I just finished reading Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence as The Orson Fader played quietly on my stereo). Conversely, I was blown away when I had the rare opportunity to turn the volume up. The guitars are absolutely overpowering! When played loud, the album reveals what is a rather incredible recording quality, showcasing a very strange guitar sound that Paik has made for themselves. It's not the typical shoegazer sound (e.g. really slick and clean). There's a gritty, almost raunchy feel to the guitars; they sound as if they've been layered about a million times, creating a tremendous wall of sound.

In terms of the songs themselves, the title track is the standout. The guitars aren't distorted in the beginning, but they have a strange effect on them (a suffusion reverb) that makes it sound as if they are being played inside of a large can. The same chord is played, over and over, as a bass line flutters about behind it. There's a strange bending of the notes every few seconds, but it's so miniscule that it just sounds like the guitars might be out of tune. Nevertheless, the song inevitably climaxes with a big, triumphant extravaganza of repetition.

Overall, this album is fantastic. With no words to bog down the listener, it's a multipurpose record. Rare is the album that can be listened to while doing just about any task imaginable, but The Orson Fader typifies such a notion. I look forward to using it as the backdrop to the next novel I attack!

reviewed by: Daniel Mitchell for Ink 19