Ryan Needham with Yard Act at the Hammersmith Apollo
The Yard Act experience is brighter, brasher and louder.
Much has been made of Yard Act’s new direction, with the four-piece freely admitting that post-punk was a useful (and cost-effective) vehicle for their early work. A form that was easily translated to the live stage, it served both its purpose and the band well.
But with new album Where’s My Utopia? broadening their sonic palette, what are Yard Act now? The second collection threw a wealth of different genres into the mix, including hip-hop and smatterings of electronica, which suggested that translating it into performance may be a challenge.
Not a bit of it: the new improved Yard Act experience is brighter (a dazzling, perpetually changing light show), brasher (backing dancers) and louder (every song).
Sadly – as documented on last year’s one-off single The Trench Coat Museum – frontman James Smith has sacked the mac, with he and his band-mates colour coordinated with an orange motif, including a natty denim jacket.
Not allowing the audience an instant to process this new look, Smith leads his crew straight into the fusion of rap and calypso pop that is An Illusion, which precedes the Brexit-berating, Andy Gill-indebted Dead Horse from the debut album.
It sets a precedent for the evening: aware, perhaps, that some of the old guard may not appreciate their new direction, a track from The Overload or earlier is never far away.
Perhaps owing to a bigger venue, or more likely because of Yard Act’s growing chops as a live act, the older material is evolving too. The keys on Pour Another are accentuated to give it an ‘Imperial-era’ Stones feel, The Overload itself has been super-charged and Fixer Upper throbs and vibrates around the venue.
This being Yard Act, the latter track is picked from a selection of four from a ‘Wheel Of Fortune’ by an audience member who is brought on-stage soundtracked by consciously naff muzak.
All four of the choices are from their debut EP Dark Days, yet the comedic intent of the process masks that – if they are true to their word – Yard Act can tweak their set on demand. Although it must make rehearsals a pain.
The group have a long history with Bristol and Smith frequently references how much he loves the city. It reflects how his on stagecraft has evolved: in their early days there was a flippancy and highly-entertaining comedic banter (along with bassist Ryan Needham) but – once again because of the upgrade in venues – it’s been replaced by an earnestness and appreciation which tonight seems to genuinely affect Smith.
Needham continues to be the steady rock on which much of Yard Act’s music is founded, while guitarist Sam Shipstone looks like he’s having the time of his life, a smile never far from his face. A word, however, for drummer Jay Russell, who seems like a man possessed.
The newer material has several pockets of breakdowns which offer him the opportunity to temporarily unleash; on the bridge to We Make Hits, he’s a whirling dervish on his kit.
The show whistles by and the boos as Smith announces the last song seem heartfelt. Compensation is offered in the form of The Trench Coat Museum (8 minutes on record and as long as they want live) which sees Yard Act joined by support act Gustaf, Morgan Simpson from black midi, Murkage Dave (whom your reviewer was actually talking to before he reappeared onstage seconds after saying, ‘I’ll be back in a minute’) and backing singers/dancers Lauren Fitzpatrick and Daisy J.T. Smith who have been stealing the show all night.
It’s a touching and raucous end to a show of high quality entertainment. Post-punk be damned.
