The first time I saw Yung play their guitarist tried to attack me. Well that’s what I initially thought was happening. In retrospect, more likely he had attempted a stage dive only to land squarely on my back, meaning it more closely resembled an illegal rugby tackle. It was an abrupt and slightly awkward end to what was one of the most electrifying sets I saw at The Great Escape in 2015. It was unquestionably punk but somehow felt incredibly new and fresh.

On record, the tracks from their most recent EP ‘These Thoughts are Mandatory Chores’ have a massive, wide-screen production. The guitar sound has a sheen to it that almost glistens or sparkles and embraces descriptions most punk would shy away from: anthemic, or even epic. Live they are more unambiguously up-tempo punk songs with relentlessly driving rhythms. Often the heavily melodic bass lines are what carry the songs. Reminiscent of 80’s post-punk and new wave, they move high up on the fret board and are able to cut through all the noise with a clean exactitude.

 

For all intents and purposes, Yung is front man and lead guitarist Mikkel Holm. Holm writes all of the music and the bands name is in fact nothing more than his own nickname. Tonight he sings his lyrics of existential angst with a throaty howl, his eyes shut with a frowning, pained expression on his face. During the chorus of ‘God’ he repeats the phrase “in my mind” over and over, almost coming a mantra for the overwhelming feeling that accompanies the aforementioned thoughts referenced in the title of their EP. He might not be singing in his native language, but he seems to feel every word acutely.

 

Less reliant on production, the highlights from the ‘Alter’ EP sound the strongest tonight. The tumbling rhythm in the verse of ‘Nobody Cares’ gives the song room to inhale deeply before diving back into the chaos of the chorus. The sub-‘Be My Baby’ drumbeat and jangling guitars of ‘A Stain’ similarly offers a moment of brief respite before taking the plunge.

 

The set ends with ‘Blue Uniform’, which eventually gives way to a relentless 4/4 rhythm and the crashing crescendo is a satisfying climax to the show. Throughout the crowd haven been appreciative but largely stationary and non-participatory, an unfortunate inevitability in a room that’s only half full and it’s the kind of atmosphere that can’t help but deflate music this physical. Yung somehow manage to emit a sound that would feel just at home in some cramped, sweaty room as it would in the epic expanse of the open air. Tonight however, isn’t either of those places. If only enough people were listening so they could get there.

 

Louis Ormesher

Photos: Tom Barlow Brown