Yoo Doo Right - From the Heights of Our Pastureland

A Closer Listen

A telling Exclaim! quote rests atop Yoo Doo Right‘s Bandcamp page, referring to the trio as a part of “Montréal post-rock royalty.”  This quote, combined with references to GY!BE and an 8mm video, honors the unquestioned rulers of the post-rock city, whose own album was released only a month before.  By paying homage to GY!BE, Yoo Doo Right seek not to compete, but to work in harmony with the titans.

The tornado is an indication of the music’s power.  Soft, anticipatory moments lay the groundwork for devastating onslaughts.  In the 13-minute opener, “Spirit’s Heavy, But Not Overthrown” (divided into two parts on some streaming services) waves of feedback set the stage for the trumpet and drums.  Curiously, the band recorded the set not during a tornado, but a snowstorm; the dramatic tension is palpable.  At the halfway point, the tone shifts from post-rock to rock, with a brief bout of vocals; but then the post-rock cacophony breaks the dam, flooding the speakers with sonic intensity.  The trumpet cuts through the chaos, contributing the feeling that as wild as this storm may be, everything is still in control.  On first listen, it’s a bit disappointing to hear the music plunge when two minutes still remain, wobbling like a storm survivor, but this feeling vanishes on subsequent spins.

“Eager Glacier,” the album’s second single, is the key cut.  accompanied by a striking video from Stacy Lee.  Here one can glean the connection between natural and societal disaster, the tornado and “the storm of colonialism.”  The visual abstractions invite further associations: storms of the mind and heart.  As the pounding drums give way to crashing guitars, the images from clear to collapsing, one recalls the fragility of families, governments, the environment.  A brush of blue appears and disappears, a modicum of hope.

Yoo Doo Right loosens up on “Ponders End,” cut from the cloth of spaghetti soundtracks.  One can imagine the lone rider and horse sojourning across the prairie, anticipating their next high noon. “Lost in the Overcast” is the brief and bucolic, providing time for reflection before the big finale. Instead of building, the title track surges then slows, the final four minutes either a collapse or a rebuilding, the interpretation open to the listener.  There is peace after the storm, but how much damage has been done?  And how much can be repaired?  (Richard Allen)

Wed Nov 06 00:01:19 GMT 2024