Album Review: Yuck - Yuck

Yuck may come from North London, and this debut may be being released in 2011, but in their heads it’s 1994 and they come from somewhere on the other side of the pond. So in thrall are they to the likes of Lemonheads, Pavement and Sparklehorse that it’s initially a bit baffling that they’ve been given a recording contract: after all, Seattle grunge and slacker lo-fi aren’t exactly the most current or hip reference points right now. To add to the quandary, there’s not really any sense of Yuck updating their influences with anything more contemporary.

And yet it’s abundantly clear from pretty much the first spin, just why Yuck’s debut is being so well received. Such is their winning way with a melody, and so beautifully turned is their lo-fi fuzz-bathed sound, you’ll find it hard to pull yourself away from these infectious songs. Whether on full throttle or stripped down and laid back, Yuck hit almost every target. ‘Holing Out’ is fast paced and drenched in feedback, its instantly grabby chorus typical of the record as a whole. ‘Georgia’ is dreamier, almost shoegaze, with the vocals buried in the mix. Even at their noisiest (the Daydream Nation-aping ‘Operation’), everything is shot through with a delicious sweetness. Melody is undoubtedly king here whether it’s in the noisier moments or at the other end of the spectrum, like when ‘Shook Down’s plangent tune proves as gorgeous as any Teenage Fanclub cut. ‘Suicide Policeman’ is lovelier still, while ‘Suck’s Pavement-ish chord changes work wonderfully. 

Even if – like this listener - you’d rather listen to Britpop than grunge 99 times out of 100, Yuck comes highly recommended.  Okay, so there’s nothing especially new here, and dissenters will fancy some easy wins dismissing Yuck as mere copyists but somehow everything sounds box-fresh in their hands and they never sound affected or forced. It all reminds this writer more of The Shins Oh! Inverted World rather than anything among Yuck’s multitude of ‘90’s reference points because few debuts in memory have been as sweet and enchanting. All that they want is a shady lane – and really, on such form who would deny them?