Geek love

Yatsura and the Wedding Present press on

by Matt Ashare

Ever since the Beatles spearheaded the first invasion of Brit rock, there's been a tug-of-war between scenes on opposite side of the Atlantic, a battle to define the aesthetics of pop -- or, at least, to dominate the charts. It's rarely been as overt as, say, the East Coast/West Coast thing in rap. But it's always been there: in arguments over who started punk -- New York's Ramones or England's Sex Pistols -- and, throughout the '80s, as a subplot to the struggle of proto-alternative American bands like X, Hüsker Dü, the Minutemen, and Black Flag to be heard.

Indie rock in the '90s offered the possibility of a truce. By emphasizing localized affiliations over nationalism, imagining the existence of what Olympia's Calvin Johnson dubbed the "International Pop Underground," and embracing imports -- like England's Wedding Present -- some tried to unite the forces of smart-and-sloppy lo-fi geek rock from near and far.

Scotland's Yatsura, who come to the Middle East with the Wedding Present on November 29, are the latest foreign emissaries to embrace Johnson's dream. "Take a stand/Make a plan/Form a gang of lo-fi bands," barks guitarist Fergus Lawrie over the loose-and-noisy garage-rock groove of "Siamese," the first track on Yatsura's full-length debut, We Are Yatsura (Primary). "All hail to the geek-rock heroes," answers Graham Kemp, the foursome's other singing guitarist. (Kemp founded Yatsura as well as the fanzine Kitten Frenzy and the tiny label Modern Independents -- an indie-rock hat trick.)

One of those heroes, and a guy who's clearly inspired Kemp and his bandmates, is Calvin Johnson. Yatsura pay tribute to the founder of K Records in "Pow R. Ball," referring to him as the "Greatest dancer in the USA . . . He fucks shit up all day . . . He's got his own label/And it starts with K," and underscoring their respect with a raucous, surf-funk riff that owes a small debt to Johnson's Dub Narcotic Sound System.

Elsewhere, Yatsura, who take their name from a Japanese comic book, seem less interested in imitating particular bands then in learning to speak the cryptic sonic vocabulary of lo-fi's big three: Pavement, Sebadoh, and Guided by Voices. Kemp and company offer an indie-rock survey of sorts, from surf beats to sci-fi guitars, delivering irresistibly tuneful pop songs using scrappy buzz-and-drone guitars, trashy drums, and imperfectly pitched vocals. They wrap smart, catchy melodies and feedback guitars around romantic tunes about putting a new cassette in the tape player ("First Day on a New Planet"), meeting girls at comic-book conventions ("Phasers on Stun"), and falling in love with girls who have secret alien handshakes ("Plastic Ashtray"). There are wistful respites on We Are Yatsura, like the queasy ballad "Black Hole Love." But it's hard to feel sorry for Kemp. Even if he doesn't get the girl in the end, he'll still have that new cassette-only Built To Spill import to keep him company.

David Lewis Gedge, the oddly nondescript leader of the Wedding Present, rarely gets the girl. And when he does, it's never a comfortable match. In the decade that he's spent pouring his heartbreak and refined pop sensibilities into the Wedding Present, he's seemingly stumbled into every sort of dysfunctional boy/girl relationship you can imagine. (If he'd been more flamboyantly morose he could have given Morrissey a run for his money.) So it's not surprising that he's found a devoted if exclusive (i.e., small) audience in some of the same indiephiles who hang on Lou Barlow's every heartbreaking word. Gedge may not have his own fanzine, but his indie credibility is bolstered by his having hired Chicago noisemonger Steve Albini to produce a Wedding Present disc (1991's Seamonsters) before that was hip (i.e., back when it was still cool), and his having spent the following year releasing 12 seven-inch singles in just as many months.

On Saturnalia (Cooking Vinyl), the Wedding Present's tuneful new offering, Gedge seems to have resigned himself to romantic frustration and cult stardom. He flirted with dressing the Wedding Present in respectable '60s pop melodies on 1994's Watusi (Island). But Oasis played that card with more aplomb. So on Saturnalia Gedge just returns to what he's always done best: crafting unassumingly brilliant songs with thoughtful lyrics, clean guitar hooks, and messy relationships. The result doesn't have the youthful, infectious exuberance of We Are Yatsura. But Yatsura will outgrow that in a couple of years.

Yatsura and the Wedding Present play the Middle East downstairs next Friday, November 29.