The Overload

Land Of The Blind

Payday

Rich

Pour Another

Quarantine The Sticks

Dead Horse

100% Endurance

Tall Poppies

Reclaiming the Trench Coat

The Trench Coat Museum

Dream Job

Petroleum

Trenchcoat vs Kendrick

We Make Hits

When The Laughter Stops

When the Laughter Stops (feat. Katy J Pearson)

Where’s My Utopia?

An Illusion

Grifter's Grief

Fizzy Fish

The Undertow

A Vineyard for the North

Down by the Stream

The Trapper's Pelts

Get  "Fixer Upper / The Trapper's Pelts' on 7" in hand printed sleeve : https://smarturl.it/ydfixerupper

Formed in 2019, Yard Act began life when friends Ryan Needham (Bass) and James Smith (Vocals) started creating minimalist rock tracks using a primitive drum machine and borrowed bass guitar. Later drafting in George Townend on drums, and Sammy Robinson on guitars whom they met at their spiritual home The Brudenell Social Club, they played a handful of shows to a rapt reception before you-know-what intervened. No matter: ingenuity and artistry enabled them to great their debut release.

Overflowing with satirical one-liners, A side ‘Fixer Upper’ follows a cocksure fictional character, ‘Graeme’, planning some home renovations. Yard Act co-instigator Smith explains: “Graeme was inspired by an amalgamation of people who lived on my street growing up. I think everyone knows a Graeme, maybe a neighbour or an uncle… sorry if he’s your dad. Not a bad man at heart, he just sincerely believes he’s from a country and generation that achieved the apex of everything so therefore can’t ever be wrong about anything.” Drafting in Ross Orton (who’s credits include Arctic Monkeys, Working Men's Club’s, MIA, Amyl & the Sniffers) on mixing duties, it is equal parts fearsome and funny and never less than breath-taking.

On the flip side, ‘The Trapper’s Pelts’ is a satirical take on neoliberalism. James Smith explains, “It skewers elements of the American frontier into a Scarface-type narrative set against the backdrop of a mundane West Yorkshire suburb.” Produced by Bill Ryder Jones (The Coral) prior to lockdown the recording process of the track “felt like a Happy Mondays thing, keeping the drums tight and high up in the mix like a dance mix.”

Housed in a screen printed wraparound sleeve (individually printed by Ryan from the band), it’s a debut single to be treasured.

Fixer Upper

Here I am again,
Here I am sitting in the waiting room
Waiting for an appointment
That I had booked six months ago
I’m feeling very low
Yes, I was shitting bricks
At the prospect of existence without you
And so I gave it one more go

But the story didn’t stick and something didn’t click
Some allergies you tolerate and some habits, you just have to kick


I saw you on your back
Amongst the peanut shells
That were scattered on the floor of the big top
Right next to the overwhelming sense
Of impending doom, but no one even asked
Or mentioned anything to me about the
Elephant in the room when suddenly it clicked
Some allergies you tolerate and some habits, you just have to…

You gotta bite the bullet, you gotta get it fixed
You gotta get it seen to (so see to it)
That the story sticks

You always said that you’d both met and fell in love at the circus
And that’s why you loved animals so much
So much so that you’d bought a big dog
With little ears and called it ‘dumbo’
Which was a joke that got less and less funny every time
Obviously you brought the dog along that night…
When you showed up otherwise alone, to my dinner party,
Having already rang ahead, to ensure that all of my dishes
Had been prepared in a completely nut free environment,
Now quipping that it was for the sake of your ‘imaginary’ husband,
Because several years on from the wedding
That none of us were invited to
We still hadn’t met him, even though you always said he was coming,
Before suddenly he couldn’t make it
Because he travelled a lot with work, but mainly
Because he didn’t really exist,
You broke down in tears in my kitchen,
certain he was seeing someone else.
How reckless we’d all been to tolerate your fabricated reality
But until then I didn’t have the guts
To put an end to the ever maddening scenes
So instead, with a solemn nod and totemic silence,
I walked over to the cupboard
where I kept the snacks,
took a pinch of dry roast dust from the loose pegged bag
Sprinkled an inch into the upturned palms of your trembling hands
and said
'If you just rub some of this
Round the rim of his can then no one will know,
but we’ll all understand’
It takes real guts to fake being nuts
And it takes real nuts, to break fake guts

You gotta bite the bullet, gotta get it fixed
Get it seen to (so see to it)
Because stories that don't stick
Mean someones bound to twig
If your alibis cooperate then they will be
Fed to all the pigs

Peanuts

Dark Days

Pre-order options for Dark Days/ Peanuts 7" here : https://smarturl.it/yadarkdays

The truth was sold 
That's where the trail goes cold 
My shoulders shudder at the thought  
Of puffing my chest out as I walk home alone  
Under the arches, there’s this bloke  
With car boot full of stolen phones, knock off cologne and mink carcasses  

Near mint condition from Selfridges mate   
I see arsonists with business rates etched on the back of empty match boxes 
Police officers getting their truncheons polished off in the bushes 
Wondering what all the fuss is about And what I’m looking at 

But If looks could kill,   
My vacant gaze wouldn’t even pierce the skin 
I’m not lazy, ambition is just something I have no interest in 
At least when I meet my maker, I’ll embrace my mistakes 
As I descend to the bowels of hell with a shit eating grin on my face 

Dark days 
It’s a never ending cycle of abuse 
Dark days 
I have the blues and I can’t shake them loose 

I was skeptic due to how the media had depicted ya 
Though getting to know you better 
We clicked and so we stuck together 
Turning the corner of the burning cenotaph  
Those coppers clocked us  
Stopped us and shook us up and down  
With no grounds to and no due process 
They started discussing  
whether to let us off for doing nothing  
Or maybe pop us just for ‘looking like’ 
We might be hiding something 
But then the Radio buzzed in,  
‘they caught carboot man with the lot’ 
Thank fuck I bought you enough time 
Not to get shot. 

dark days 
It’s a never ending cycle of abuse 
I had the blues I can’t shake them loose 

My best ideas are borrowed, but they’re never half baked 
They’re hard to swallow, Hey! Life’s an acquired taste 
And if you wanna climb the ladder of success in this world 
Take my advice and reinvent the reel completely, believe me

Welcome your future. Where's My Utopia? out now

Yard Act

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