The Yeah You’s
Looking Through You
Like some kind of record company executive’s wet dream. Imagine Mika, The Feeling, The Hoosiers and The Saturdays in some kind of oiled-up play-wrestle. Twinkly pianos, ‘cool’ sweeping synths and a whole load of horrifically predictable tunes.
Almost every song is littered with Queen-inspired harmonies, while the choruses each build into a crescendo of pop-soaked melody that sounds like it was almost deliberately written to be played over the top of those fake moments of sheer joy on The X Factor.
But wait, they’ve got ‘The’ before their name and they write ironic lyrics about the fickle finger of fame which ironically enough catapulted them onto the pages of the music press in some kind of ironic, self-perpetuating prophecy. Ironically enough though it’s dreadful and doesn’t make any worthy point. How ironic.
They couldn’t even come up with a proper ending for final track Carry Me Home, sparing you the only shred of possible joy at the moment of realisation that the record has actually finished. Instead it just fades out, as if the producer fell asleep on the control desk.
Don’t be fooled into thinking The Yeah You’s are cool. This is not cool, it’s horrible. Just horrible.