Take Away Show #87 _ YEASAYER

paris, oberkampf, jourdain, february 2008

images & edit by vincent moon
sounds by chryde & karine vouillamoz
produced by chryde for la blogotheque

extended version
http://www.vimeo.com/3352206

A late session, a band that had not really convinced me until that moment. And then, suddenly, an improvised party in the subway, an apartment, a piano. An incredible whirlwind of events. Thanks, Yeasayer.

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Yes, sometimes we get stuck in half-motivated shambles. This was one of those evenings. We could make a list of all the troubles we had with the equipment, organization, and weariness in preparing for This Take Away Show after Yeasayer’s performance at the Nouveau Casino. Plus, the band kept us waiting, and their tour manager refused to let us use the van...

However, two hours after, we left an apartment at Jourdain exalted and light-headed, convinced that we had lived one of the craziest, freest sessions of all the Take Away Shows—with a band I didn’t like, no less.

When I saw them in Brooklyn, Yeasayer puzzled me. Weird outfits, gimmicks from the ‘80s, crazy flights: it was all too much. When I listened to the record, it was worse: I couldn’t stand the layers, synthesizers, and exaggerated reverb. That evening, I hardly regretted missing the show, despite the amazed faces of audience members leaving the venue.

The band left the Nouveau Casino. They were funny, sarcastic, at ease, carefree. We went around in circles a bit, and then were told we could not take the van. So, we decided to catch the metro at station Goncourt. Fans, friends, god knows who—they all came with us. We walked for a long time, so long that we almost forgot we were there to shoot. Ira, the bass player, was the last one to take the stairs, and the band almost took us by surprise by walking ahead, turning around and singing a capella.

It would be useless to continue this description. I think the videos speak for themselves... Crazy songs on the subway, rising and reaching their climax at Jourdain; opening a six-pack; a long walk; the building with two codes; an entry phone; a secured elevator and eleven floors. And then the piano, beer, and songs; “2080”’s lyrics written quick and messy on a sheet of paper; Lyn relaxing on her hammock; hands, glasses, and bottles clinking on the floor as if in response to the neighbor’s reprimands. A joyful hippie communion.

And the songs. Their minimalism would often manifest itself as only the clink-clink noise on the beer bottles. So strong, so beautiful. That evening, we talked Yeasayer into going wild, but they went even further: they dragged us. Yeasayer are fun.

text by chryde