The likes of Billy Burke, Anthony Boyer, and David Cook comprise Sydney’s own hardcore punk-imbued trifecta of kickass disarray that is Yes I’m Leaving, and after two LPs, this Australian band is looking to hit things back off with their album Slow Release, out via Homeless Records come September 29, 2014.
Yes I’m Leaving’s aptly entitled follow-up to their 2013 reissue record, Mission Bulb, is a cement mixer of grunge, grit, and nihilism set to a four count, and I just spent most of my day trudging around to it blaring from my earphones. To start, it was slow going (absolutely zero pun intended) listening and re-listening to this album through from beginning to end, and it wasn’t until I found myself in the midst of the wracking dissonance so characteristic of tunes like “Alchemy” and “Secret” that I finally succumbed to nodding my head to the band’s volatile rhythm section while taking to scowling at everyone who looked at me longer than a few seconds.
Listeners can expect to hit the ground running with “One” as it erupts in a surge of fat bass chops and a couple of old school, pseudo-crust, vocal wails (contradictory proclamations, really) belonging to front man Billy Burke; this introduction stands to give the impression that whatever is coming next is likely going to be a bumpy ride, and I would be lying in claiming that the following tracks, “Puncher” and “Fear,” are anything short of turbulent.
Another checkpoint and notable mention at number five in the lineup is “Timer,” a jam that stands out on the album at certain parts that—dare I say it—would fall somewhere in the same genus as a Nirvana if they were a bit more thrash and had originated somewhere in the Tropic of Capricorn.
Then there is the blast of static that is “Mania,” at number eight, which melds nicely with the album’s gradual, seemingly out of control spiral downward until it burns itself out three tracks later with “Husk”—and in this humble reviewer’s opinion, in the most forthcoming instance of YIL’s splash of controlled chaos on the record.
Slow Release comes off as delightfully anxious, but leans heavily on a tone that can, at the best of times, be described as incredibly consistent. Overriding what some might call a tight performance geared toward those clamoring to be awash in an aggressive squall of noise is the group’s propensity for making songs by sticking to a “play-the-measure/repeat-the measure” formula. While this can be chalked up to Yes I’m Leaving’s self-stylization as a droning force of off-kilter and provocative guitar riffs, looking at Slow Release from a technically critical standpoint leaves something to be desired.
3/5