
Just when I’d begun to think New York had lost its soul in music, I was turned onto the Wild Yaks. And thank god. Who knows what this band is doing in Brooklyn, but one thing is for certain: they’re leaving an impression. The Wild Yaks have got energy-infused anthem-esque songs that fondly remind me of Florida’s Against Me! and their proteges, Fake Problems and sexy squealing brass parts that take me back to the days of Morphine.
The band’s music is highly rhythm and chant based. It’s the kind of music that could soundtrack a rally effortlessly…a drunken rally around a campfire, fully-equipped with swaying and slurring and spitting and shouting. They’re just the kind of eerie-punk blues that I’ve been waiting to hear out of this city. They’ve got songs that make me want to drive for the sake of driving – with my windows down on hot nights.
Comprised of members who love pot brownies and pottery and don’t have much reverence for the stable 9-5 job scene, my prediction is that these guys will go far. They don’t have much to hold them down, but my guess is that they’ve got throngs of drunkards ready, willing, and able to hold them up. Including myself.




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