It must be hard to feel like this. It’s taken three years for Yearbook to write, record and release their debut album; three years on an album that they’ve poured their heart and soul into; three years to give it their all until there really is nothing more to give. But ‘I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You’ is no overwrought, anachronistic album that reeks of bloat. This is a tight, deep and challenging work of art.
This album is simultaneously Yearbook’s debut and swansong, a collage that crams all the best bits of emo together. The fire and brimstone diatribe on ‘Holy Trinity’, the ghostly harmonies that back up the chorus heavy, reverb wash of ‘Dive In,’ and the background noise and chitter-chatter accompanying the sad strummed sounds of ‘Funeral,’ all stand on their own as distinct compositions that come together for a coherent whole.
Yearbook wanted to create something “challenging, interesting, sometimes a little uneasy and would truly represent the best that we had to offer as a band”. Tall order, but they pulled it off. The dynamics between tender, frail and vulnerable reverb-heavy soundscapes, and crushingly distorted pure, unadulterated venom bring to mind Brand New working at their best. When ‘Faster, But Slow’s bassline distorts with menace, the slow rumble undercutting the declaration of “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so, so you’d know,” the obsession of death – and, to an extent, Yearbook’s rapidly approaching demise – hangs over the listener, flooding the album with despair.
It’s catharsis on CD. ‘The Unreasonable Man’s infectious chorus, “I’ve figured out what’s wrong, I’ve figured out what’s happening” is howled out over and over again, worming its way into your brain, distorting everything within. A chorus that most bands would die for by a band that has died for it. Yearbook have optimism in ‘Only Love’s desire to “smash your TV, smash your radio”, but is their happiness only found in destroying everything around them? The closing track ‘The Great Destroyer’ leans in that direction. Bringing to mind the softer spoken apocalpytic whispers of ‘Grey Britain’-era Frank Carter, the morbid lyrics suggest someone spiralling ever deeper into the abyss of self-destruction. Even though Yearbook recognise that “now is the time to fight for your lives,” perhaps they can’t fight for them in this way anymore.
Yet, for all the defeatism, the angst and the pure rage that permeates throughout ‘I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You’, Yearbook have an intense replayability that comes through in the fact that the album just sounds so damn good. It’s crushing. It’s defeatist. And it came at the cost of the band’s existence. But in its raw, uncompromising production, endlessly ambitious compositions and passionate performance, Yearbook have created an album that does not deserve to fall by the wayside. This should be a touchstone for future emo bands who want to hit the peaks of their creativity and despair. Yearbook lived and died for this album. They deserve your respect for it.
MATTHEW WILSON