Album Review: Yes, I’m Leaving – Slow Release

Before I start this review, I want to state that Yes, I’m Leaving are amongst the Top 5, if not the best, punk band in Sydney. I mean, these guys basically rule Black Wire Records with an iron fist, and have one of the most devoted cult followings, with hordes attending each show, each kitted out in a debacle of denim, piercings and leather. If you haven’t heard of them, or seen them before, stop what you are doing (yes, stop reading this sentence), and check them the fuck out.

Why? Why are Yes, I’m Leaving such a force of god-defying power? Well, besides being sadistically underrated and having a killer name that was probably inspired by the reactions of playing Lightning Bolt to people who think Tame Impala and OK GO are badass, YIL have the power to capture a sonic fury not seen since Fugazi. There’s those staccato beats, crunching bass stampedes, and wailing howls that cause dogs to prick their ears in curiosity, and everyone of decency to flock to whatever audio device is blaring such amazing music.

On their fourth record, YIL elevate themselves to a strangely mid-fi territory, but before anyone gets on their high-horse, all this means is that the punch and kick of the band comes through that much clearer. This isn’t a shitty case of having a band’s fuzz ripped from underneath them, leaving nothing but an indie-rock facade that is more bland than a 9-5 office job at a vanilla factory. Now, the bass lines are easily traced, each note hammering down with a punctual and forthright aggression that was always hiding just behind Yes, I’m Leaving’s full potential.

The case for Yes, I’m Leaving’s status as “HOLY FUCK THIS BAND WILL BECOME A GLOBAL LANGUAGE” begins with the first track, “One”. You heard this thing? YOU FUCKING HEARD THIS THING??? THIS THING WILL RIP YOU APART, SHIT IN YOUR CHEST, AND NOT EVEN APOLOGISE, FOR THIS BEING IS AN INCENDIARY FORCE OF NATURE! There’s nothing that “One” won’t do to ensure that the skin melts off your face, leaving nothing ut a chargrilled, sizzling but fantastically stoked head. It rips, roars and demolishes all in it’s path, and if you;ve had the luck of seeing this in a live format, you’ll know how much this track can cause the unprepared to double up in pain and pleasure.

Another thing that needs to be stated about this record is that there is no filler. NONE! Every song is just as pulverising as the least, losing no time with offsides or bullshit. Yes, I’m Leaving now that each and every moment of their 30 minute record is a moment that can be spent bending the definition of amazing, and turning non-believers into full-blown fanatics. It’s hard to pick favourites on the record, as every time I put on a track, it instantaneously becomes “my new favourite”. However, for the sake of “journalism” and #SINGLES, tracks like “Salt”, “Alchemy”, “Funny” and “Puncher” all stand out that little bit more. These are songs that hurtle with the same velocity of Gandalf chasing the Balrog down the gateway to hell, and they also allow for that slight Australian accent to make sure that all those who will become disciples of the YIL will know exactly where they come from.

There’s so much more I fell I can say about Yes, I’m Leaving’s new record. The lyrics that incinerate all in their path, the powerful knockouts of the music, the way that these three Sydney musicians have unlocked a sacred power that honestly defies what “sound” can be defined as. They break so many rules and eardrums with their music, that it is hard to imagine going back to listening to bands that can’t be described as ‘cauterwauling hellbeasts’. With this album ‘Slow Release’, Yes, I’m Leaving have just cemented their place as Australian punk legends. In the near future, people will be talking about assasinating presidents so they can hear shitty bootlegs of this album. Make sure you’re not one of them, and buy one now.

Get yourself a pre-order of this soon-to-be-legendary record here. And when Yes, I’m Leaving announce launch shows, get yourself along to AT LEAST one of them.

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