Crash Course in Science is a minimal synth trio formed in 1979 in Philadelphia by Dale Feliciello, Mallory Yago, and Michael Zodorozny. Meeting at art school, they built their sound using toy instruments, kitchen appliances, distorted guitar, and primitive synthesizers. Their 1981 EP Signals From Pier Thirteen, featuring “Cardboard Lamb” and “Flying Turns,” became a staple in adventurous DJ sets and influenced the later electroclash movement.

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16 Questions · Interview by Maks Giordano · Answered by Michael Zodorozny
You recorded your earliest works using kitchen blenders and cardboard boxes. What was the exact moment you realized that these domestic tools held more musical potential than standard rock instruments?
In the early days we used primitive cassette tape recorders, the kind that had the cheap microphones. Everyday things recorded loud in this way seemed to be a gateway into the type of palette we wanted to explore. It was a way of introducing a brash element initially.
Philadelphia's Pier Thirteen was a decaying, post-industrial site when you named your EP after it. How did that physical space influence the cold, structural nature of your rhythms?
Pier Thirteen had an atmosphere, the silent turn of the century machinery. Even though it was a quiet place when we visited it since it had been abandoned for quite some time by then, it suggested sound to us. What were the sounds when it was operating fully.
It was almost like we inadvertently created a soundtrack based on the actual place. We went there a lot, Mallory used to take a cab there sometimes at dawn to take photographs. There was a lot of mystery there.
When "Flying Turns" became a cult anthem in Belgian EBM clubs in the 1980s, you were largely unaware of it. How did you react when you first discovered your art project had become a template for European dance music?
We didn't know that the Signals record was popular in Europe since there was no internet in the 80's and no one told us! We were very happy that people may have been inspired to create music because of our work. It's a great feeling when that happens, it's what it's all about and much appreciated.
Your work is often described as minimal synth, but it has a visceral, punk physicalism. How do you maintain that raw, human friction when performing on electronic gear?
Punk was a big part of our inspiration to create music. The whole DIY 7" singles were so great to see and hear. The more offbeat the better. We were all big fans of the Ramones and saw them play many times.
Because of our use of raw electronics it seemed logical to try to create a surreal three minute pop song using noises. The palette seemed limitless and it seemed any subject matter lyrically could be illustrated with it. It opened the door for many odd experiments, many of which have never been released, at least not yet. There is a physicality to the sounds, it helps to be able to throw oneself into it.
The more offbeat the better.
The visual presentation of the band has always reflected your art school training. How do you design your live stage to reflect the domestic and industrial themes of your music in 2026?
My background is in painting and animation. I worked for many years in the animation industry in New York as a designer and background painter. Each of the songs has a corresponding backdrop video to give it an atmosphere, they are always evolving along with the music.
In the late 1970s, electronic music was often associated with pristine, academic laboratories or polished German pop. Why was it important for you to make electronic music sound dirty, unstable, and unpolished?
We were never interested in sounding really polished, we were shooting for a dynamic mix of rhythm and noise that had a physicality about it. Even though our palette was altered drum machines, electronic toy keyboards or homemade synths there had to be a harmony to the sounds. We knew what combinations worked for us and what didn't. We would spend hours honing on the right combination of sounds.
We were shooting for a dynamic mix of rhythm and noise that had a physicality about it.
Your songs often feature highly repetitive, obsessive lyrics, such as those in "Cardboard Lamb." How do you view the relationship between vocal repetition and the mechanical loops of your synthesizers?
Most of the poetry we wrote, especially in the early days of the band had a DADA influence. Something unexpected or an odd situation. We all wrote in this way at times. When we would rehearse we would start playing music and someone would pick up their notebook and start reciting or singing. We always recorded our rehearsals so when we'd listen back we would hon in on what stood out and was worth revisiting. The lyrics and the music usually evolved.
How do you prevent your early, toy-based instrumentation from becoming a museum piece or a nostalgic prop when performing to younger, techno-oriented audiences today?
It's just part of our vocabulary, hopefully the younger audience can see that you don't need fancy, expensive equipment to be creative. It can help of course but it's not a deal-breaker. It's best to use what you have in an innovative way.
You don't need fancy, expensive equipment to be creative.
You built instruments out of kitchen appliances partly because you were broke. If you had money in 1979, would Crash Course in Science have sounded worse?
I'm sure it would have still been offbeat and rhythmic but just in a different way.
You played The Uncle Floyd Show, a puppet-heavy cult kids programme, several times. Was appearing on daytime TV with a puppet a more subversive act than any club gig?
All the punk bands that came to town in NY played Uncle Floyd. It was a fantastic way for people to become aware of what you were doing. The banter between the bands and him was priceless. It's a shame that more of that isn't available on YouTube. He asked us if we rehearsed at santas workshop.
Cardboard Lamb has been a DJ staple for over forty years. What is it like to have written a track that outlived the band, the scene, and nearly the century?
It's great to know that it stood the test of time and it's nice to know it was raw enough and strange enough to capture the imagination of people over the years. It's humbling that it's regarded in that way.
It was raw enough and strange enough to capture the imagination of people over the years.
Near Marineland sat unreleased from 1981 to 2024. When you finally heard it come out, were you meeting old work or strangers?
Over the years that it remained unmixed and unreleased I would listen to the rough mix of it that I had on cassette and I knew it would be released one day. When Frank at VOD asked us to do a box set it was the perfect time to do it. Also right around that time in 2008 we had a windfall from a sample licensing deal that helped pay for the work needed to complete the mixing and production.
Electroclash rediscovered you two decades late and treated you as ancestors. Did that generation understand what you were doing, or did they hear something you never put there?
I just think it fit in to that genre even though it was created years before. It had a similar vibe and it was great that it was somewhat rediscovered then. I believe they understood it.
The name promises science and delivers malfunctioning toys and appliances. Was the failure of the machines the actual subject all along?
The name can be interpreted in different ways. To me it suggested a response to something that had happened, a way to move forward.
You came out of art school, not music school. How did thinking like artists change what you were willing to call a finished song?
Approaching music with an art school background is different because we didn't feel tied to the conventional. We wanted to create what we were picturing and hearing in our heads and the closer we got to making that a reality the better. We knew when something sounded right and something sounded off or when something was overworked, similar to when you know that when working in a visual piece of art.
The music was made to be abrasive, yet people dance to it and feel joy. Did you set out to make something aggressive that turned out to be fun, or was the fun always the point?
If something sounds unexpected and is able to trigger a physical reaction then it's a win.