Yeasayer are a spectacular band, yes, but more than this I like to think of them as the Great Indie Hope. It gives me great joy to see that a group of seasoned musicians who look and sound like no-one else (at the moment, anyway) can crawl their way through the treacherous muck of blogs and online buzz, secure dedicated label and management (Hi Tom!) support, and go on to sell out shows and release what was one of last year's finest albums. Luck has doubtlessly played its part in the band's success to date, but much of the credit has to go to Yeasayer's musicianship, song writing talent, and good old-fashioned elbow grease.
Of course, the release of All Hour Cymbals didn't mean the hard work was over – Yeasayer have been gigging like buggery ever since. Their reward for all this came in the form of three sold-out London shows in the space of a week – one (unannounced, but still rammed) gig at Barden's Boudoir and two shows at the ICA, the last of which BCR were jammy enough to secure two precious tickets to.
The evening's opening act are called Ipso Facto, and you could not choose a more diametrically opposed act to Yeasayer if you tried. Four immaculately-attired sullen haircuts, Ipso Facto barely move throughout their set – the members of the band seem more concerned with projecting an air of Nico-like detachment than actually, y'know, entertaining anyone. Which is a pity, as a few of their songs showed promise, but these were inevitably rendered dull by a cardboard delivery.
Yeasayer, on the other hand, took the stage in a ball of hairy, scruffy energy. Yes, lead singer Chris has slicked his hair to one side in an apparent attempt at a greaser quiff, but the band nevertheless look as though they've just rolled out of a clothing bin (in fact, a quick glance at BCR's photo archive reveals that drummer Luke is wearing the same hippy shirt as when the band played at the Fly last year. It's entirely possible that he hasn't changed clothes the entire time.)
Yeasayer's music defies easy description, and their live show doubly so. If you take a potent blend of Eno and Byrne's tribal rhythms and otherworldly exoticism, the rollicking good-times feel of 70's rock, and dashes of psych and gospel chorus, you're somewhere near. The band's manner onstage has something of a hippy jam/singalong energy to it, which belies the precision underlying the performance. The overall experience is soaring and euphoric, as the band howls and claps its way through the songs from All Hour Cymbals, along with one I don't recognise (a quick internet search reveals this to be a new song, "Tightrope" – where did they find the time to write that?) Just to keep everyone on their toes, the set includes a Black Sabbath take on their already Black Sabbath-esque song, "Wintertime". A great set by a great band. But what does the future hold for Yeasayer? Will the Great Indie Hope live on, and bring us joy for years to come? My fingers are crossed
