self-titled - no. 1 - (Page 31)

May 2007: In the beginning, there was MySpace. “My sister and his cousin have been together for, like, fifteen years,” adds Tuton, pointing at Wilder. “And I,” says Fasano, “met them through Chris’s ex-girlfriend.” A few months back, I was blown away after catching Yeasayer perform during South by Southwest, and now, I’m curious about how the group’s debut is shaping up. “What’s it like?” I ask. “That song ‘Final Path’ is so good.” “Oh, that one’s not on the record,” says Keating. “We never got the sound right for that. But we’ll probably release it on an EP.” At the moment, I suspect, but don’t truly realize, that when Yeasayer’s debut, All Hour Cymbals, comes out in a few months, the record’s psych-pop odyssey will be met with widespread critical acclaim. Many writers will go as far as to declare it a revitalizing force in an otherwise stale Brooklyn scene. Today, however, the foursome hints to the magic of All Hour Cymbals by referencing Genesis, the Neptunes and, in passing fashion, world music. “We’re really excited about the record, but we’re ready to write a new one already,” says Wilder. No kidding. Yeasayer is so excited about finishing another album that all four band members have quit their day jobs to commit to the band full-time. “You can always find another job, right?” says Tuton with a laugh. “You can’t just find another sweet gig like this.” “Chris and I were in band together back in high school,” says Wilder. “We’ve been very close friends for a long time.” April 2008: What happens when Conan calls. When I first saw Yeasayer perform more than a year ago, I was one of only a few people in the room—not counting the band's labelmates, manager (Jason Foster, who also founded Yeasayer’s label, We Are Free) and a grab bag of industry folks. This isn’t about bragging rights—though the band will back me up—nor is this a case of Johnny-come-lately in hindsight. Rather, this is simply my amazement at the acceleration of culture. It’s difficult to believe that in just a year, four good-natured, eccentric Brooklyn guys riding the beatnik-rock vibe went from basement-show obscurity to, as Wilder tells me on the phone from Chicago, selling 20,000 copies of their debut record—a record that was released on a subsidiary of an independent label, Monitor. The band is now playing Conan O'Brien, it was profiled in the New York Times, and Yeasayer is fielding offers from a number of “major indie labels.” “All of this has way surpassed our expectations,” says Wilder. “But then again, it's not totally illogical. I mean, we’re not making inaccessible music. We’ve got hooks.” For a band working as hard as Yeasayer does, the group’s live show is inherently joyful and vicariously freeing. Has that changed since going from being Brooklyn nobodies to playing a coveted Conan slot? Does the ego remain in check? “I have this theory that we were only on the show because it was during the writers strike,” explains Wilder, inadvertently answering my question. “They had to fill up the programming. But you know, Conan admitted that he had never heard the song before and told us that he was really impressed.” Of course he was. arye dworken / photos by tod seelie http://www.yeasayer.net

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of self-titled - no. 1

self-titled - no. 1 Contents Spiritualized No Age Les Savy Fav The Teenagers Booka Shade Michael Gira Ellen Allien Magik Markers Jens Lekman Yeasayer Daptone Records Tipping Point Boris Fiery Furnaces Black Dice Black Mountain The Black Lips

self-titled - no. 1

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