Where’s My Utopia? : A review of Yard Act’s sophomore album by Sam Edmonds
I remember leaving the Night Cat in Melbourne early last year feeling like I’d witnessed something really special. Irreverent Post-Punk rockers Yard Act had just finished a terrifyingly excellent sideshow, and I remember remarking to Paul, who came with me, I don’t think we will ever get to see them in a club again. They are gonna be huge. That was based on the firm factthat the Leeds four piece are really, really good.
Their debut album ‘The Overload’ was one of my favourites of 2022 and to say my hopes were high for their follow-up would be an understatement. Any expectations I had however, of a rollicking, hook laden, meta-commentary on generational pressures, stagnant late-stage capitalism while adjusting to hard-earned success were exceeded in the extreme on ‘Where’s My Utopia’.
The second album from vocalist James Smith, bass player Ryan Needham, guitarist Sam Shipstone, and drummer Jay Russell is an absolutely cracking record, and so far, my clear favourite of the year. Early highlight, ‘We Make Hits’, states the premise bluntly. “And there was one singular ambition we had, That most musicians of our ilk aren't willing to admit, And it was to this mantra we would commit. We make hits” Smith says, in his inimitable West Yorkshire infused sing-talk.
Smith’s lyrics are a little less overtly politically charged throughout than on their debut, but his clever deconstruction of millennial malaise strikes a chord with this 30-something reviewer very hard. Formative childhood events are mined heavily throughout, whether they are regrets over bullying in ‘Down By The Stream’ or a very detailed account of a childish mishap in show-stopper ‘Blackpool Illuminations’. All of it seems to paint a picture of standing still and finding coping mechanisms to deal with a world that promised an awful lot to our generation (a utopia perhaps?) and delivered on none of it.
Needham and Russell’s rhythm section has always provided such staunch ballast to Smith’s poetry, and it has leaned dancey and disco on a lot of this record. Shipstone’s guitar lines remind me so much of Johnny Marr’s melodic restraint, a tradition dating back to George Harrison’s work with The Beatles. The parts are unassuming but absolutely essential.
I don’t have to tell you that the world is in a bit of shit at the moment. The Gen X anthem that I blame for most of it, perhaps unfairly, is John Mayer’s elevator music call to the couch ‘Waiting on the World to Change’. Generationally, Gen X gets away with a lot because they gave us ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ and the Nokia 3210, but I think a lot of opportunities have been wasted with the sort attitude Mayer had them like and subscribe to.
On ‘The Undertow’ Smith embraces the inevitable nihilism of a millennial with privilege looking at a burning planet. “What’s the guilt worth, if you do nothing with it?... The guilt’s worth nothing. But for the first time in ages I feel safe in the knowledge. We’re all gonna be demolished”.
I think it was always gonna take a British band to point out what happens when you fall from the top. It just doesn’t normally sound this fun.
Grab it here
