LIVE AT JOSEPH'S WELL, LEEDS - 18 OCTOBER 2002


      
The Yards stray a bit from home in York
      to find themselves taking the stage at Joseph's Well in Leeds,
      playing to a full room of friendly faces.

      
Chris Helme approaches the mic with modesty
      hardly indicative of the talents alive within him. Immediately,
      he is joined by the other 6 members of The Yards, that help breathe
      life into the vision few bands are brave enough to attempt, let
      alone realise. It's only a matter of time before people are turning
      to either side, looking to share a satisfied smile and knowing
      glance. For many this has been long anticipated.

      
Less than halfway through the first song
      credibility is established and a tone has been set for the evening.
      These boys are humble, gracious, and in ironic contrast, absolutely
      gushing with talent. The sheer size of the band is considerable
      and the sound is overwhelming, it's a wise decision they've made
      to let the music speak for itself, no need to drum up any rockstar
      antics or banter here. Succeeding beautifully, each song makes
      an impact and lingers just long enough without being forced,
      and fades into the next. It's difficult not to notice that they're
      genuinely moved by what they are doing, and it's a bit nice to
      catch them hoping everyone else is as well. Favourites amongst
      the crowd like Waves, Only Myself to Blame and Fireflies spill
      over with sentiment and bring the audience to their knees.

      
It needs saying; this isn't a one-man band.
      This unit functions as a whole, and couldn't manage to do so
      this beautifully without every member bringing his own unique
      bit of energy to the current. The collective presence is unified.
      Passing glances, encouraging nods and smiles are all part of
      the directive here, that connection married with a comfort level
      to match allows them to glide through familiar tunes confidently
      and you witness newer ones finding their feet before your eyes.

      
Chris is stood still, almost in retreat
      at the centre of the stage, to anchor his vocal projection. Achingly,
      he soars from a whimper to full release, appearing coolly unaffected.
      He makes his case lyrically; demonstrating indifference without
      coming off jaded and makes no apologies for being nostalgic,
      even at the risk of it landing him bittersweet. Wearing your
      heart on your sleeve makes being vulnerable a ballsy thing to
      do, particularly when you're trying to be taken seriously, and
      Chris manages it with grace.

      
James(cello) and Matthew(viola) as a section,
      bring a lush velvety depth to the songs on offer without the
      danger of ever sounding too precious or pretty. James moves in
      unassuming placidity as Matthew storms wildly beside him in perfect
      contrast. It really is something to see Matthew writhing, as
      he stomps and belts up supporting vocals for Chris between ciggies,
      all while playing. The kid was just born to do it.

      
Stuart brings uncluttered and solidly plotted
      bass playing to the mix, just what's needed for all of this rich
      instrumentation to hang on, while Paul brings a beautifully explored
      and textural bit of guitar playing. It would be ridiculously
      easy for the pair to abandon the "less is more" principal.
      In both instances smartly, champion judgement and experience
      often win out. In a different sense John's drumming is so apt
      and complete, it almost goes unnoticed, someone has to be the
      reliable backbone. There's no glamour in the job, but it's necessary
      all the same.

      
The set blazed on with some seriously refined
      bravado then disintegrated. Each of them barely strung together(literally)
      but still fighting fit, they returned for a welcomed encore and
      exit with a blinding cover of The Rolling Stones' No Expectations.

      
To say the gig was without faults would
      be foolish. As flaws go the most evident one finds John's keys
      as well as the strings drowning in the wash. That's a bit criminal
      really as it's often those exact subtleties that highlight the
      more sublime aspects of the song writing and arrangement. Live
      sound production is a struggle but with the understanding applied
      to the dynamics between Chris and Matt's vocals, the same can
      be applied here, incredibly present without having to compete.

      
The Yards made the evening one to remember,
      the set was a real treat for anyone who loves music. Uniquely
      I think it was also a brilliant illustration of the idea that
      the end product of any effort is only as good as what goes into
      it - when you go top shelf you're bound to yield the finest and
      most palatable results. It certainly isn't an accident, but with
      anything there's an element of chance or fate - the chemistry
      of this band couldn't be predicted or manufactured. Especially
      not when they are stood in front of you winning, without the
      luxury or safety of smoke and mirrors, making it look dead easy.

      
Perhaps not superhuman, but a world away
      from ordinary - they are all heart and soul.

      
Carla Edwards