Yuck are another obscenely talented young band – five Londoners captained by a 20-year-old singer and songwriter who take the best of ‘90s college radio in one hand and today’s lo-fi aesthetic in the other, and mix all that droney, nostalgic fuzz into one hazy sunset of a sound.
Yuck’s music dares you to listen in headphones – songs like the seven-plus minute “Rubber” are waltz-tempo epics with guitars that drone like beehives and bass dirty enough that it seems to fall apart. It sounds like what my parents used to drudge up from the depths of those college radio airwaves that only broadcast in a ten mile radius around some tiny New England college town – it sounds like it’s fading out already, getting static-y already, stuttering out of reality as you try to keep listening. I suppose this is a way of saying that this song is really, really good, timeless if you’re twenty and remember being four or five years old in your mom’s Volvo with the window rolled down and the radio on.
“Holing Out” is fantastic too, all the nostalgia of “Rubber” boiled down to a shorter and quicker little anthem, its influences clear – driving pop-punk guitars and vocals, bass amped way up, with some added fuzzy effects to ground it cleanly in 2011. That’s a riff you’ll remember for a long time.
All the recent buzz about Yuck has made good – the band will drop their self-titled debut on Fat Possum this February, and they were recently added to the SXSW lineup.