Reviews

The band is obsessed with the idea that technology has forced a future upon us, paradoxically robbing us of the ‘present’. And with synths and drums stacked up haphazardly, the Brooklyn-based quartet look like a crew of Mad Max-esque mercenaries, at once both unified and disparate.

The sweeping ‘Sunrise’ perfectly exemplifies Yeasayer’s timeless, pan-ethnic style. Apprehensive, multi-part harmonies give way to tribal drums and ambient keys, creating a soundscape of epic intimacy. “The sky cracked a million ways, making me blind,” sings front man, Anand Wilder.

Recent short player, ‘2080’, sees Yeasayer take a more progressive, less textural approach, fitting snugly somewhere between the veneer of Talking Heads and the austerity of Arcade Fire. ‘Wintertime’, meanwhile, takes on a driving, secular quality, reminiscent of Unknown Pleasures-era Joy Division.

Yeasayer are nothing if not versatile. Their deeply experimental sound is loosely drawn together with a folky thread. Thankfully, however, that thread got thinner and thinner as the band sunk into their set - for they were at their strongest when at their least derivative, when all points of references begin to dissolve.

At some points, the group’s delay-ridden sound became hypnotic to the extent that the audience forgot to clap on more than one occasion. These five-second silences would normally be considered awkward, but they actually worked to Yeasayer’s favour - for everyone knew that the comforting void was destined to be filled with nothing but their own unique take on the future.