ARTiST: The Young Knives
TiTLE: Voices Of Animals And Men
LABEL: Transgressive Records
GENRE: Indie
TiME: 44:50 min
SiZE: 65,3 MB
BiTRATE: VBRkbps
RiP DATE: Jun-24-2006
RELEASE DATE: Aug-21-2006
WEBSiTE: www.theyoungknives.com
Track List:
01. Part Timer 02:55
02. The Decision 03:24
03. Weekends And Bleak Days (Hot Summer) 02:48
04. In The Pink 03:15
05. Mystic Energy 02:53
06. Here Comes The Rumour Mill 03:42
07. Tailors 04:04
08. Half Timer 01:40
09. Shes Attracted To 03:07
10. Dialing Darling 03:00
11. Another Hollow Line 03:42
12. Coastguard 03:02
13. Loughborough Suicide 03:57
14. Tremblings Of Trails 03:21
Release Notes:
Want the skinny on the best (nearly) new band in
Britain? Just ask... Who? What? Where? The Young
Knives - drummer Oliver Askew, singer/ guitarist
Henry Dartnall and his brother The House Of Lords
(yes, well come to that) - formed in rocktastic
Ashby-de-la-Zouch nine years ago. Being young and
daft they spent their time playing bad funk and Neds
Atomic Dustbin covers until, luckily, university
split the band. Four years later; older, wiser and
now a bit embarrassed about the Neds Atomic Dustbin
thing, they decided to reconvene by moving to that
other cesspit of punk rock depravity, Oxford. The
Young Knives is a great name, who thought of it? It
came from a Scottish history book, says The House Of
Lords. I misread an etching that had three young
chaps pulling a laird from his horse. It actually
said 'young knaves', but knives was a good
approximation.
We definitely want to be seen as rocks answer to
Robin Hood, deadpans Henry, taking influence from
the rich, arty types and making it good for the
poor.
Hang on, The Young Knives, havent I heard that name
before? Possibly. In 2002, TYK brought out the
optimistically titled mini-album, The Young
Knives... Are Dead, on Shifty Disco. It led to
support slots with Hot Hot Heat and Har Mar
Superstar and then... nothing. Which is mostly down
to the band's very English inability to promote
themselves. Weve all got a fear of the phone. Or,
rather, a fear of rejection from A&R men, says
Henry. Which is admirable if you're talking about
being a nice human being, but doesn't get you far in
a competitive business. Luckily, TYK now have
managers to do all that cigar-chomping PT Barnum
stuff.
Are those managers busy? Just a bit. In the last 18
months, TYK have toured Britain relentlessly,
playing to the increasingly rabid audiences who
recently helped 'Here Comes The Rumour Mill' buzz
the Top 40. Elsewhere, TYK have found their wiry
tales of suburban angst championed by The
Futureheads, Supergrass (who they were asked to
support) and Gang Of Four's Andy Gill, who flipped
over their demo and ended up producing their debut
EP and the album 'Voices Of Animals And Men'.
Typically sceptical of any sign of success, Henry
thought the whole Andy Gill thing was wind-up until
they actually spoke: I had to phone him up, sat in
my Toyota in the car-park at work. Even having his
number in your phone is pretty daunting.
How did the album sessions go? "We really wanted the
album to be varied and interesting, to stand up to
repeated listens," says Henry. And this it does. The
jerky, whip-cracking (disco-punk) energy of Weekends
and Bleak Days and the pile-driving art-punk of
'Here Comes The Rumour Mill' you already know from
their single incarnations. But, they only tell half
the story. Placed alongside the neat, summery
swoon-pop of 'Hollow Line' or the mordant, beautiful
'Trembling Of Trails', they reveal TYK to be a band
of many diverse talents. These literate observers of
love, life and modern Britain are not merely urgent,
angry young men, they are capable of crafting
alluring ballads and brooding mid-paced mope-rock of
the most stunning kind, too. "I've been surprised by
how much we've let our jazz and folk influences come
through," says Henry. Although, there isn't an ounce
of fat or self-indulgence here: "We also wanted to
be able to repeat it, just the three of us, live."
So, where do TYK place themselves on the musical
map? They dont. Unless you really push them. They
enjoy the dry humour of Pulp and Elvis Costello, but
they like weird stuff like Pere Ubu too. Both Clor
and British Sea Power are TYK fans, and, certainly,
all three bands share certain characteristics;
intelligence, musical unpredictability, wit. We like
to come across as intelligent, who doesn't? asks
Henry. But I try hard not to write songs that try to
make me look intelligent; I think we try to be
honest and authentic. Were honest about our short
comings. What's with the second-hand suits and
general TYK shabby chic? Described, by the NME, as
looking like "junior partners in a small provincial
accountancy firm", TYK's individual dress sense is
notorious. But, insists Henry, there is nothing
contrived about it: "I've bought stuff in charity
shops since I was about 16. I'm quite keen on being
a womble. That's the good thing about living in the
London commuter belt, people have got money to burn
and they just throw crazily good stuff away."
Not a band likely to be dazzled by the glittery
trappings of fame, then? Hardly, TYK are still giddy
about jacking in their day jobs. "Having proper
boring jobs makes you appreciate it when you get to
pack them in," smiles former computer-operative
Henry. "Now, its like being your own boss and really
caring about everything you do. Plus, we get to go
to the pub at midday." When are they moving to
London? They're not. TYK have no interest in hanging
out in cool bars with cool bands or doing coke with
influential industry "insiders". "We're much happier
ploughing our own furrow," says Henry. "The London
scene isn't bad, but we're not from there. And we're
not from Oxford either. We're always slightly
outside any scene and we like it that way." What's
next? That hotly anticipated album, a glorious
tangle of "human weaknesses" and boss tunes, which
discerning British listeners will spend the next six
months trying to unravel. "Paranoia, laziness, lust
for power, self-obsession," says Henry, are at the
core of this record, lyrically. Not that he wants it
to be depressing or judgmental. It's more
anthropological than that. He, simply, likes to
observe how people react in tight situations. "Like
how people who have no power in a certain situation
try to gain power," he explains. "That could be
violence, backstabbing or just whining and running
away. We have tried to celebrate these things rather
than complaining about them, though, Most of the
themes are part of our characters that we try to
keep at bay, so it's quite a cathartic record." And
what's your favourite track? "'Loughborough
Suicide'. It's an introduction to what we're going
to do next. And [the title] sounds cool."
Go on then, why is The House Of Lords called The
House Of Lords? Because, according to Henry and Oli,
he is the band's grumpy second chamber, constantly
vetoing their great ideas. House? "I am pretty
aggressive about how I would like us to sound. I
have no interest in becoming the next piss weak MOR
band for music industry morons to cream their jeans
over. But, if the rest of the band didn't agree with
me, we wouldn't be doing it." "Plus," he says, with
a flourish - and to guffaws from the rest of the
band, "all the best ideas are mine."
So what happens when you put your foot down? "I
usually get told, quite unceremoniously, to 'fuck
off'." The message? They may be funny,
self-deprecating fellas, but theyre not messing
around. The Young Knives: sharp young blades with a
steely resolve.