fuckinrecordreviews
fuckinrecordreviews:

BEST REASON TO WRITE A FUCKIN’ RECORD REVIEW TODAY!
✩the YOUNG Chrome Cactus lp (matadorrecords- 2014)✩
The Young are nothing if not unhurried. It’s what makes them different than just about every other contemporary band this tumblr susses out, most of whom are racing to the total punk climax. The Young countenance no such haste. Their pacing is unfettered, similar to that of Crazy Horse, a band to whom the Young have been previously compared in terms of parched dynamics and dissolute cravings. The tip sheet ain’t kidding either, their sound is decidedly more sinister on Chrome Cactus than before. Maybe they should be called Danny Whitten’s Veins. 
Whatever they’re called, the Young (as they’re presently known) slow cook the carnal juices of classic rock. That’s not meant to imply even a hint of overture toward callous retreads whatsoever. The classic rock tag speaks to the extended languish this record is about and how the Young seek to balance their strivings with curdled insight: the promise of the dub egg at the mouth of the open road terminates in some very dim corners. Failings stare back and no one actually does get out of here alive, do they? The Young seem to have taken some steps toward this understanding…Two guitars peel each other’s skins in empathy, acoustics are layered over top of wuzzy crunch and the groove is cinched. HIGHWAY RECORD OF THE SUMMER.
Believe it or not, we’ll have expanded blather about the YOUNG in Fuckin’ Record Reviews #1: The Print Edition, coming your way during the North American autumnal season of 2014. Be there.
There’s video: ‘

fuckinrecordreviews:

BEST REASON TO WRITE A FUCKIN’ RECORD REVIEW TODAY!

the YOUNG Chrome Cactus lp (matadorrecords- 2014)✩

The Young are nothing if not unhurried. It’s what makes them different than just about every other contemporary band this tumblr susses out, most of whom are racing to the total punk climax. The Young countenance no such haste. Their pacing is unfettered, similar to that of Crazy Horse, a band to whom the Young have been previously compared in terms of parched dynamics and dissolute cravings. The tip sheet ain’t kidding either, their sound is decidedly more sinister on Chrome Cactus than before. Maybe they should be called Danny Whitten’s Veins

Whatever they’re called, the Young (as they’re presently known) slow cook the carnal juices of classic rock. That’s not meant to imply even a hint of overture toward callous retreads whatsoever. The classic rock tag speaks to the extended languish this record is about and how the Young seek to balance their strivings with curdled insight: the promise of the dub egg at the mouth of the open road terminates in some very dim corners. Failings stare back and no one actually does get out of here alive, do they? The Young seem to have taken some steps toward this understanding…Two guitars peel each other’s skins in empathy, acoustics are layered over top of wuzzy crunch and the groove is cinched. HIGHWAY RECORD OF THE SUMMER.

  • There’s video: