Greydini

***"Greydini always has wild things going on in his freaky stratosphere. Fresh off the leash, Freakdini is Greydini’s anticipated debut vinyl monster mash and we assure you, it lets loose with a protoplasmic jet-blast of junk-punk poetry and non-wave weirdness, masterfully balancing the chaotic with the concise. Like, imagine a scrapyard wizard levitating peacefully above the endless towering heaps of bent, rusted shrapnel that forms their accursed kingdom. Now: picture that wizard re-emerging in a freer zone as a magnificent bird of prey, winging it high above the mountain of burnt CDs, lathe cuts, and cassettes our thrift-shop magician Greydyn Gatti has produced over the last quarter century, under this guise and Wolfcow. Blissed out and slathered with green slime (a recurring Greydini obsession), Freakdini is that big bad-ass bird, and it’s on the hunt. Only the deepest freaks will survive becoming food to fuel its reign of bird-shit. And that shit is hard to get off once it dries. All fantasy aside, this album comprises two years of meticulous nurturing in its writing and recording. Lyrical influences from conversations with friends and youthful experiences, instant tape splat poems, and sourced out bass tracks from a reliable Wolfcow jammer came into play. Then long winter nights were spent seamlessly mixing it all, this important step done in close collaboration with the righteously experienced José Contreras of By Divine Right...

All in all, Freakdini is the culmination of a career of misfitry. Like a bastard child of Captain Beefheart, Royal Trux, and The Fall that operates on a sort-of homespun Rob Pollard meets Screamers realm in the no-fi spectrum, the Greydini sound has been long in the refinement and always difficult to pin down. Simply put, if Freakdini doesn’t sound like a wildly good time to you by now, you’ve come to the wrong place. So come on in, or get the hell out, but stop holding the door open. You’re letting the heat out. Because this record is on fire!"—Kevin Hainey, June 2025