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Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Fever to Tell (Interscope Records)
reviewed by john wenzel
Fever to Tell exudes an unusual meatiness, a
substantive quality that - having grown accustomed to
the typically derivative nature of the Yeah Yeah
Yeah's peers - is a bit alien. It's not that these
guys are communicating in some unknown musical
language - oftentimes lead singer Karen O is little
more than a crude, faithful pastiche of new wave and
punk clichés, and the technical aspects of the guitar
playing wouldn't impress a first-year student of the
instrument. But punk's never been about proficiency
anyway.
It's more that these songs, to borrow an insipid
truck-commercial slogan, seem built to last. Their
expensive production and trendy accoutrements (echo-y
snyths, double-tracked distortion, vocal filters)
don't detract from the fact that they'd sound great
performed by any band with a fondness for distortion
and ripped fishnets.
"Rich" kicks it off with one of the aforementioned
echo-synth riffs, a blurry, wild-eyed wake-up to those
living under a rock the past couple years. It's catchy
and melodic with just the right amount of sneer,
immediately establishing the band's dark 'n sexy
character. Karen O's come-hither-on-broken-glass chirp
pulls the verse toward modest but solid drumming while
booby-trapped guitars slo-mo crash in great slicing
chunks, crushing the edges of the song with staggered
chugga-chugga. It's a simple formula, and a frequently
repeated one, but it works surprisingly well.
Songs like "Man," "Tick" and "Black Tongue" comprise
the bulk of the album, exhibiting the bands' strengths
(dangerously sexy vocals, furious rhythms, impassioned
guitar skronk) and cementing their reputation as
appealing misanthropes. The production is major-label
enough to beg for radio play, but roughed-up enough to
reveal the music's playfulness. The single "Pin"
breaks from the expected crank-and-yelp with a lively
melody-driven structure, while "No No No" (the band's
reaction to themselves?) goes from a gallop to a
stomp, dropping concrete slabs of guitar onto the
metallic drums.
"Maps," a startlingly simple ballad perched on another
synth line, should be the cornerstone of any good mix
tape. O's beautiful, calm vocals - think PJ Harvey or
a thinner Chrissie Hynde - communicate experience well
beyond her years. "Y Control" follows, a pummeling
shower of textured, Futureworld-era Trans Am
riffs and should-be-off-key melodic interplay. "Modern
Romance" is another violent (but not unwelcome)
stylistic shift, slowly building from a skeletal riff
and layering the band's patient contributions like
sacrifices on an altar. A pointless but amusing hidden
track rounds out the short disc, and PHEW, it's over.
Didn't seem like 11 tracks, did it?
Blasted with an improbable quantity of white-hot and
seemingly premature media exposure, Fever to
Tell seemed ripe to implode under the pressure.
The jaded hipster in me desperately wanted this album
to fail, confirming my suspicions that the Yeah Yeah
Yeahs were as full of shit as the NYC hype-machine
that produced them. Where's the underdog anymore? Why
is anything remotely listenable labeled the New
Salvation of Rock?
As cynically satisfying as it would have been, the
album didn't suck. Much like The White Stripes'
Elephant, this disc delivers the goods,
expanding the dialog on neo-garage to include more
than just greasy hair and a subscription to NME (I'm
looking at you, Longwave and Interpol).
Fever to Tell is an exciting party album, the
sound of New York's gathered strength and youthful
irreverence. It's also full of concrete songwriting,
in spite of its trendy superfluities like the absent
bass player, the '70s/'80s influences and Karen O's
burgeoning fashion icon status. Most importantly, it
hints that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs aren't just loud and
crazy in an entertaining and drug-addled way. They're
a good band, a cohesive trio of performers that play
to each others' strengths. It's impossible to say
whether they will be remembered in 20, 30 or 50 years,
but Fever to Tell certainly sounds like an
album that will be.
(www.yeahyeahyeahs.com}
Issue 14, August 2003 | next article
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