Yuck
Shepherd’s Bush Empire, London
18/02/2011 

Headlining a sold out NME Awards Show suggests Yuck are on the verge, but there are never any guarantees – as a band with roots within Cajun Dance Party will know all too well.

But the timing feels right with Yuck - the fashionable reference points which they wear brazenly on their sleeves, whether by cynical design or an honest by-product of admiration, aren’t unique, but the scattergun combination might just be. And while Sonic Youth, Pixies, Pavement and early Teenage Fanclub have all been referenced nuff times, it’s unlikely they’ve featured so prominently and unashamedly in one band. Yet whether a consequence of their lack of an identity of their own or not, Yuck are some way short on personality – which individually is a minor handicap, but collectively a genuine cause for concern. While Max Bloom’s guitar squawl frequently delivers the euphoric moments, Daniel Blumberg fails to engage as a frontman, and the attention inevitably wanders as a result. And no, a drummer with big hair doesn’t amount to personality.

It’s not that Yuck are bad by any stretch – indeed, any band would have their work cut out to screw it up with such an immaculate foundation – but they add too little to the template. The kids don’t seem to care too much – perhaps failing to pick up on the nods and taking Yuck’s offering as the genuine article – but if they’re to truly make it they’ve got some hard work ahead of them. It’s not beyond them, though – they’re a capable live outfit with a handful of pretty good tunes – but they’re unremarkable as it stands.
 
Andy Slocombe