Three tracks, nineteen minutes; and so the first, impressively psychedelic broadside from Yama arrives in the form of ‘Seaquake’ – an EP available on CD or free download via Mind flare Media. Indeed this is a double first, as this is the first time we’ve seen Mindflare expand their remit to incorporate more traditional rock sounds (albeit almighty, bowel-threatening doom rock) into a roster traditionally filled with mind-bending, genre-hopping noise artists, and it transpires the label’s taste remains exquisite.
So, Yama then. Take a pinch of the doors, a touch of Sabbath, a hint of early Jefferson Airplane and tie it all together with a healthy dose of Kyuss and you more or less have the ingredients for opening track ‘hollow’ which is so brutally distorted across the board that it sounds like Iggy Pop mixed it, and so utterly devoid of moisture that it could only have crawled, parched and salt-stained, from the arid centre of the desert. It’s as if the band have been locked away somewhere since the seventies, provided amply with marijuana, incense, a set of vintage musical equipment and the first four Sabbath LPs, only to be unleashed upon the world now with the idea of making a record firmly implanted in their addled crania. The result is a timeless, swaggering, bruising swampy beast of an EP that houses an almighty sense of groove and attitude and rumbles along nicely.
The title track opens with the echoing sound of a harmonica as a voice intones “the levee’s going to break” before the band unleash a sodden riff that groans and strains under its own monumental weight. If the band were aiming for the feel of vintage Zeppelin they’ve pretty much hit the nail on the requisite spot, the guitars a roaring wall of sound, the vocals frayed and yet tuneful and the percussion not quite up there with John Bonham… but then, honestly, who is? The final track (and by this point you should already be utterly in love with Yama), entitled ‘synergy’, is a twisted, snarling creature, it’s fur shorn off in numerous fights, it’s claws still wicked sharp, and as it snarls and cowers the vocals swirl, perpetually threatening to drift off-key only to pull it back at the last second whilst the guitars chug and roil, rarely breaking loose of their downcast trudge. An unhinged solo only adds to the air of paranoid misery whilst the closing vocals, building from a whisper to a roar, further increase the sense of sweaty claustrophobia.
In the final analysis Yama have opted for a fine release indeed with which to start their career. Atmospheric, well-played and recorded with scant regard to the conventions of studio polish (the whole thing sounds like a vinyl copy that’s been used as an ash tray for the past decade), this is the real deal – a rock solid doom monster and best of all you don’t need to take my word for it – download it for free by clicking here and give a deserving band your support.
