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There’s so many layers here – samples, sound effects, coos, squawks, chirrups, chants, piano loops, percussive clicks, digital zips – but intertwined there remains those melodies, as old as time itself. And that’s the yolk of Yeasayer’s golden eggs: the ability to trawl the world for gems and condense them into five-minute distorted ditties you can whistle while washing up. It’s a musical package holiday you can take vicariously,World Music For Dummies.
Yeasayer’s greatest achievement is their balancing act, teetering between heartfelt and overly earnest, between invoking and pastiching past decades, between worldly experimentalism and token tourism. And if you still think they’ve gone pop, maybe the best way to decipher this dense, ambitious album is to judge the book by its cover – the two frankly bizarre images created by Benjamin Phelan that are “the study of a future with a distorted biology”. Pretty appropriate, given the genetic anomalies coursing through Yeasayer. Odd blood indeed
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thanks for tuning in, turning up, and zoning out!