Radioface – “Y Girls” (Animal Collective vs. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs)
As I continue to unpack my belongings (i.e. my records) I find myself unable to render my promised Album As Art Awards until a few more days have passed. But that DOESN’T mean you won’t be getting your daily dose of audio DUMbfoundery from a-Gumshoe. I’m right here. (and here) [AND HERE], ready to give you the GOODs.
Lap it up … er, I mean, this is a review I did back in, oh, 2002 maybe? It’s the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ first full-length album, Fever to Tell. I think it ran in Skyscraper Magazine originally. I ended up interviewing her for a cover story soon after, and she was nice and nervous and just barely embarking on what has no doubt become a crazy ride. I must say, I should have just quit after writing this review, because it’s … it’s probably better than 90 percent of the stuff I’ve managed since. Anyway, enjoy.
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The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Fever to Tell" LP/CD
Fever to Tell
Interscope
The wet dream of record executives everywhere, the YYY’s are an overnight sensation with little to lose and a lot to prove in the eyes of the indie-rock elite. On latest offering Fever to Tell, the Yeahs take steps to justify the unmitigated suckling they’ve received from the mainstream press.
However, after a white-hot opening, Fever loses a good deal of its steam.
One of the biggest problems with Fever is the overbearing presence of Karen O. Short of poetic, KO is a simmering fem-crooner with an uncanny knack for suggestive prose. However, when stripped of the energy of a slinky, stutter-stomping stage performance, Karen’s sass-O-meter falls to tepid levels. Her ballsy Chrissie Hynde-on-absynthe mannerisms come across decently, as do her masculine-but-sensuous growls, but something is missing from her recorded oeuvre, something that can only be unleashed under the ravishing glow of stage lights.
Another problem is the inconsistency of her lyrics. Her uncouth, O-rgasmic rantings like “I wish you’d stick it to me” on opening track “Rich” are uncomfortably lumped in with the antiquated claims of, “they don’t love you like I love you,” from radio staple “Maps”.
Aside from conversion and consistency problems, members of The Yeah Yeah Yeahs forge some keen new grooves from their bare-bones instrumental arrangement of O, guitarist Nicholas Zinner and half-colonial-style drummer Brian Chase.
Aforementioned album-opener “Rich” is a kosher example. A twinkling keyboard sample sets the tempo, accompanied by a trashy beat and a guitar riff nastier than a pair of crumpled panties buried near a high school makeout spot.
“Date With the Night” is another teaser-pleaser, whipping up a lilting rhythm then spiraling out of control with salty waves of feedback and gruff gesticulations from the ever-kitschy Karen. The Yeahs also tool around with unexpected sound dimensions, zipping through some phrases and waltzing around others.
Although not quite worth the big fuss – little could be – and almost caveman-like at moments, Fever to Tell will club you on the noggin and drag you to Karen’s lair with its meat-and-potatoes mannerisms. What’s more, you’ll be helpless to pry yourself away, indulging in The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ guilty pleasures regardless of what your fickle-as-folk indie friends say.
