“We were jokingly calling this our classic rock record at one point, referencing The Turtles
or the Stones or Fleetwood Mac,” laughs Yeasayer’s Chris Keating while describing his
band’s fifth LP, Erotic Reruns. But really, this is Yeasayer distilling all their strengths, while
paring them to their essence. Intros are shortened, hooks are immediate, and its songs are
concise, all the fat trimmed. This is an eminently danceable record that also encourages its
audience to think, an attribute the band aren’t given enough credit for which they
desperately deserve. Their societal and political commentary is erudite and trenchant. But
ultimately, Erotic Reruns finds Keating, singer/multi-instrumentalist Anand Wilder, and
bassist/singer Ira Wolf Tuton at an arresting peak creatively, their beguiling chemistry
palpable throughout.
Erotic Reruns is light years removed from the band’s 2007 opening volley, All Hour Cymbals,
as they found their footing on their own terms, impervious to outside “scenes,” and the
then ubiquitous DIY culture so prevalent in Brooklyn, with classic ‘00s singles “2080” and
“Sunrise” foreshadowing the greatness the band would fully realize on Cymbals. Their
artistic progression continued on 2010’s Odd Blood, with the fantastic trio of singles
“O.N.E.,” “Ambling Alp,” and “Madder Red.” 2012’s Fragrant World, an album with a
Kurtzweil-esque infatuation with technology, retained the band’s boogie down groove and
innate pop instincts, with lattices of ’80s pop, ’60s baroque, and the halcyon days of cut-
and-paste sampling added into their byzantine equation. 2016’s Joey Waronker produced
Amen & Goodbye continued the overriding theme of technology colliding with sentience, as
well as taking organized religion to task with glorious melodies wrapped up in trademark
Yeasayer sounds.
Erotic Reruns is like nothing they’ve done before, cutting to the bone marrow in its
directness and brevity. It’s still easily recognizable as Yeasayer and yet enough of a
departure to render it a bizarre entry in the band’s discography. The title alone says a great
deal, explained by vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Anand Wilder as “Something happening
over and over again. Reruns are never erotic. They’re always stale and tried and true.
Anything erotic get cancelled or relegated to the dustbin. Keep it sleazy.” And in Yeasayer’s
idiosyncratic world, this album full of “erotic reruns” captures the sleaze and grime so
prevalent in our brave new world of surveillance and self-policing juxtaposed with tender
moments that lend the album a humanistic warmth, flashbulb memories of love and loss
recognizing the inherently ephemeral nature of existence.
Erotic Reruns also marks a return to the band’s origins, taking total control and making the
album themselves from the ground up (with assistance from engineer Daniel Neiman). It
was produced by the three core members of the band, as a collective. In recent years, each
member has built their own home studio, each specializing in a different area of
recording/production that helped bring this album to life. “All of the studios are very
different, in a voltron way” says Tuton.
The album’s opener, “People I Loved,” finds Wilder striving for compassion and empathy
for those he’s closest to, attempting to forego unnecessary pettiness. He explains, “The song
is partly about my grandpa who died in 2017 who I’m sure loved and respected me but he
had a funny way of showing it. But it’s also about how I see authoritarian tendencies in
myself all the time, that impatience and disappointment with loved ones that finds
expression in rudeness. I am striving to be better about it since life is short and we should
just shower love and generosity on our friends and family or just say goodbye. Or be more
direct about what irritates you and hopefully resolve the conflict. It’s about striving to
overcome authoritarian tendencies, whether they’re learned or passed down as part of
your nature.” The high gravitas expressed in the lyrics belies the sun-bleached, McCartney-
esque melodies which pervade the song, with an element of grit evocative of Iggy Pop and
James Williamson’s unsung classic Kill City.
“Ecstatic Baby” is a joyful ode to the redemptive nature of love, a pure rush of deep
rhythmic grooves and melodic synth swells, with a “disco Bollywood feel,” according to
Chris Keating. He admits to borrowing heavily from ESG on it with a nod to Liquid Liquid in
its rhythmic structure. “It has that NYC thing I love,” he admits. Yeasayer have long
embraced myriad styles of NYC music, but never as powerfully as they do here.
“Crack a Smile” rounds out the knockout trio of songs that open the album, embracing its
“don’t bore us, get to the chorus” imperative. Keating explicitly comments on politics, his
sinister lyrics rendering the song’s epicurean melodies chilling, as he calls out the rotten to
the core nature of the current administration with his bilious invective, “Every time you
flash the crooked smile I sigh…you’re a liar.”
The Wilder sung “Blue Skies Dandelions” slows the album’s pace but continues the political
theme. Wilder’s lyrics are more elliptical, though, as at first blush this Travelling Wilbury’s-
esque vaguely country tinged number “as produced by Q-Tip,” according to Wilder, sounds
like it could be a hippie-esque ode to the wonderment of nature. But really it alludes to
James Comey and Donald Trump, and the loneliness of an authoritarian regime, fantasizing
of locking them in a pyramid while the rest of the populous goes on with their life,
imagining Trump copiously ingesting pharmaceutical drugs. It’s a quixotic daydream, sure,
but it evinces a gallows humor.
“Let Me Listen in On You” and “I’ll Kiss You Tonight” reveal Wilder’s take on the surreal
nature of our modern surveillance state and the rising tide of strong man leaders. The
former is a catatonic recitation, finding Wilder sardonically urging “I can make your dreams
come true/If you let me listen in on you,” while “I’ll Kiss You Tonight” is a ballad at the
surface, betrayed by the sinister lyric, “But I can’t resist your authoritarian embrace.” Both
nod strongly to Phil Ochs and his sense of humor as a liberal, poking fun at taking oneself
too seriously. “Phil Ochs reminds us that the liberal and the conservative can be the same
beast, someone can be hard line leftist who is completely close-minded and just searching
for reasons to distance himself from someone who doesn't share the exact same outlook,
and build up walls in communication that he feels are justified because of impermeable
cultural differences. ” Yeasayer call modern life as it is, and don’t spare the “good guy”
liberals from opprobrium, brazen in an era when grey areas and nuance have been
eliminated from discourse.
Tuton is the band’s secret weapon throughout the album, whether they’re string
arrangements, backing vocals, or an inventively melodic bass line. He’s also an integral
element in the band’s songwriting process. His political views are well-considered and
candid, and while he’s not a lyricist, it’s obvious that his point of view is expressed
throughout this album, at least by proxy. He’s keenly aware of the United States’ rapid drift
into an insidious police state, “one in which we police one another.”
Tuton’s thoughts illustrate a crucial reason Yeasayer remain a band in a classic sense, that
they have a shared collective ethos. They may have disagreements, but ultimately, as
Keating acknowledges, “Being in a band is a bit like being married. There’s a level of
intuition there. But hopefully not a lot of fighting,” as he trails off with a laugh. This
intuition is all over Erotic Reruns, refreshing in an era where the classic “band model” has
been inverted and singer/songwriters round up hired hands to play their songs live as
what now passes for an actual band. Yeasayer, while using auxiliary musicians, are
composed of three protean parts. That’s an anachronism in 2019, but a damn refreshing
one.
Erotic Reruns is certainly one of Yeasayer’s best albums due to its singular vision. It
captures what it’s like to be alive in 2019 with wide-eyed clarity. The songs veer from the
intensely personal and romantic to the fervently political, but all challenge their audience
and make them think a bit more slowly to ponder issues so germane to our maddening,
speed of light era of content consumption. This isn’t disposable, cheap music. It’s
thoughtful and challenging, a neon, Blade Runner-esque beacon of light tailor suited to
shake us out of our soporific stupors, morbidly allergic to nostalgia. And it’s also proof that
you can acknowledge just how dark our culture has gotten, while still celebrating the joy
attendant in being around to witness it at all. That’s not an easy feat, but Yeasayer
accomplish it. They’re here and now and in this moment and happy to be. And with albums
like this to soundtrack our unpredictable journey through this world we also inhabit, we
should be too.
