It turns out isolating in a room smaller than Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs is not a place full of inspiration. My sealed shut windows look out onto the adjoining houses that have balconies to catch the sun from rise till fall; I have a garden that sits completely in the shade, apart from at one perfectly timed moment during the day where one ray pierces it’s way through the trees and hits the random garden mirror we have and fucking blinds me… Anyway, Yakima.
You’re blasted into a lazy summers day sat your own with a can of cheap beer with It Helped, which is probably good given the current circumstances. Maybe they’ve coincidently created an emerging genre; Quarantine Rock.
Take that memory of heartbreak from your dusty brain records and whack it onto your old flickering film projector – Judy’s Lament, the delightful misery. It’s a four-minute indulgence into a “happy-sad” time, a distorted memory that was once bad but has been colour-graded with orange and teal by the years stacking on top of it so it feels nice now.
You can almost feel the warmth on your skin with Go Virtually. The vocal harmonies from John Houston and Neil McArthur, light percussion and muddy guitars sail through your ears onto the now calm seas of your mind – especially with Thanks.
Yakima somehow manage to paint a vivid picture of something seemingly impossible to portray, like a dream or a ghost.
Yakima pick up the energy in one their first-ever high tempo tracks with I’m Happy (in No Way). The signature harmonised vocals are still very prevalent and when I say high tempo, I mean a foot tap or the odd hip groove, rather than a raring mosh pit. It’s a great example of their abilities and I’m sure a very welcomed guest by fans on Go Virtually.
Real Time keeps you on your toes with its chord progressions and impressive outro. You can instantly tell they’ve grown more confident as a band. There are new sounds, more instrumentals and a bit more punch – all whilst keeping their defining sound.
The EP wraps up beautifully with Sheep Boy, Cry Man, a mellow track, but almost celebratory. A floaty, repetitive song that’s littered with solos and sounds until it ultimately strips back and rides itself out, leaving you lying in silence for a bit afterwards to process things…
Props to Benji Compston and Jon EE Allan of Happyness (Moshi Moshi Records) on producing this record and creating a sound so relatable.
I reckon you’ll find yourself playing this on repeat throughout the warmer months. If we’re all bloody locked indoors still, this might be the closest to a summer we get.
I highly recommend this one. It could be your new best friend in these weird times.