Turn Around You Weren’t Invited
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ 'Show Your Bones'

Karen O, Nick Zinner and Brian Chase are three good rock ’n’ roll names; they’re the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, another good rock ’n’ roll name. They are from New York, and in this age of the fractured take on the classic rock line-up, they make up a vocals–guitar–drums combo. It’s a hollow sound, giving each member room to scratch and howl their way around a downtown vision of garage rock. Show Your Bones, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ second album, comes a full three years on from the successful debut Fever to Tell, a recording that they stridently declared they have no intention of repeating.


From the 2001 release of its first EP, the band looked interesting: jumping out of a crowded pack, it laid out five songs that highlighted the potential lines of attack. Two songs particularly impressed: ‘Mystery Girl’, an outrageously catchy swamp blues about a woman “grown men came to see” with a B-movie past (They had found her under the sea / She said she came from cellblock three), and ‘Our Time’, a song of a grandeur and style they haven’t attempted since. Perhaps they got it too right the first time. It’s a tower of a melody, built on Phil Spector lines and driven by Jesus and Mary Chain ooze. It became an anthem, with its hook-line, “It’s the year to be hated”, working in reverse to thrust the band into the spotlight. They became famous quickly, and with Karen O’s personal designer Christian Joy in tow and Spike Jonze doing the videos, they had some calling foul with that most dreaded (and often empty) of insults, hype.

For those high on the band’s early recorded work, Fever to Tell was somewhat disappointing. In one of the most bizarre album sequencings ever, the three best songs were positioned last. The first eight appeared to be the band’s clearout of a backlog of spidery garage-rock numbers. There were some good tracks – ‘Rich‘ and ‘Date with the Night‘ – but as an opening salvo, it was strangely one-dimensional in light of the first EP. But ‘Maps’, the first of the album’s final three songs, was something else altogether. The band’s members have said, half jokingly, that they made Fever to Tell just to get this song down. ‘Maps’ is special; it’s like a great early Pretenders single. Splintered, icy guitar lines from Zinner, and Karen O dropping the grunge and cooing, “Oh say, say, say, wait, they don’t love you like I love you”: it’s a tender, dreamy stretch of a pop song. The last two tracks, ‘Y Control’ and ‘Modern Romance’ (plus a hidden song), followed the lead of ‘Maps’, taking the gothic-garage sound, slowing it and shooting it into post-punk territory. The verdict: this was a group to watch, one that either didn’t know its own strengths or was hip to the perversity of skewing expectations.