I am so fascinated with new music. When I get old, I completely see myself as that weird, cheery, white-haired senior citizen at the end of the cul-de-sac in a house with a room lined full of mahogany bookshelves filled with “those old-fashioned CD things.” And when people stop by that room, they would always ask me, “Have you really listened to all of those?” to which I would answer, “Yes, I’ve listened to them all, but most, I’ve realized, are pretty mediocre.”
That’s my real problem. The first time I listen to most albums, I try to keep an open mind, and for the vast majority of them, perhaps because of personal selection bias, I tend to like them. A few I can even say I love right from that first time. But, most of those albums wither after applying the infamous test of time.
Albums that I love right from the start, and can withstand over a month of heavy listening are truly rare, and generally stand a good chance of making one of my “ALL TIME BEST” spreadsheets. This Yeasayer album is one of them. I haven’t been listening to an album this much since In Rainbows came out.
The album has that strange and classic Yeasayer experimental sound driving each track, but it is as if the synths and laptop loops and drum machines gained sentience and decided to all go party together in a back alley while trying to sing pop songs. After just listening to the album once while skiing at Mammoth, I already felt like I could and wanted to sing along to half the songs. They’re totally infections, and inventive enough to keep any musically analytical mind fixated.
Get their album. Go see them live. (If you’re in the Bay Area, they’ll be at the Fillmore on April 17th.) Sit back, listen, and smile.