YEAH YEAH YEAHS
London Brixton Academy, November 15th 2004
Well it’s never been like this before. The promise of four brand new songs, plus some slightly less new songs, plus all those glorious YYY instant classics, had PlayLouder’s bits frothing in anticipation of tonight’s show. But after an hour or so of interminable song intros and by-numbers fake orgasms from Karen O, we find ourselves pelting for the exit before the encore can finish us off.
And we’re not alone.
What is it you love about Yeah Yeah Yeahs? The bouncy, sassy songs that made up their early EPs and much of their debut album, ‘Fever To Tell’? Karen’s look-at-me stage antics? Elfin waif Nick Zinner wrenching shrieks from his guitar, playing off drummer Brian Chase and filling every venue with grandiose noise? Well, a little bit of all that happens tonight, but it’s hardly what you’d call magical. You see, the Yeses have forgotten that they were once a danceable, fuckable, fun band and instead give us three-minute intros to almost every two-minute song. They drag these things out like some stadium rock band building up the tension, but beside me people are looking at their watches, moaning about the wasted journey and ticket money, and doing anything but dancing. The entire first balcony above us remains seated all night. Bored rigid.
The band themselves look less than thrilled to be here. Sure, Brian does some fancy one-armed drumming (auditioning for Def Leppard, perhaps?), and Nick’s angular frame and lasergun guitar are confidence incarnate. And yes, Karen’s wearing a Slipknot-lite unitard with a skeleton printed on it. But compared with those old shows... Well, it doesn’t even. We’d rather they played for 25 minutes and fucked off (as they used to) than dragged everything out and stood around like mongs.
The new songs lack the joy of old: they’re straight, flat, featureless, and there’s not a single among them. No wonder they haven’t released a second album yet. Only two stand out; one of which is pretty and melancholy, the other a demented pre-school TV romp. But combined with lifeless, sloppy renditions of ‘Bang’, ‘Black Tongue’, ‘Pin’ and ‘Art Star’, where Brian drops beat after beat, plus the truly atrocious Academy sound, this really is an exercise in patience.
There’s a resurgence 55 minutes in; ‘Maps’ suffers yet another three-minute intro but eventually kicks into life, and is followed by the spirited new song mentioned above and a gritty ‘Date With The Night’. But it’s too late; everyone’s worn out from standing around not dancing. We leave. Many other fans leave. The T-shirt stall stands deserted. Dull dull dull.
Daniel Robson