https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/tFPUxM3fUj5DuoE98 are you guys mates? Your stuff is shit-hot ✌️

This Side of the Sun

My Other People

Bury Me In My Shoes

Goon

Floating Features

Don't Leave Me on the Earth

Loose Teeth

Pleasure

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

Yard Act

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