Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever To Tell Deluxe Box album review

The album that devoured the noughties. Cool, and clever

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Impossible to disassociate from the times; stoned interviews, dresses covered in beer, Williamsburg bar tables set alight; punch-ups at 3am; a fierce riot of love and excitement and explosion, exclamation marks covering everything in sight. Life is nothing if not a spectacle.

Karen O – a whirling dervish on vocals, emotion punctuated by breathy spaces and faux disdain, like Riot Grrrl and Big Black given 20 doses of whatever – was the party queen. Brian Chase – a meticulous withering one-man assault on drums – put the rock into the art. Nick Zinner: Brutal thunderous minimalist guitar.

Critics claimed that Fever To Tell, Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ 2003 debut album, was short on emotion and… uh… songs. Critics were wrong. It had as many songs as the Ramones’ debut – and that is a shitload of songs, let me tell you. Rarely did the pace let up, from the insanely great Date With The Night to the greatly insane Pin to the percussive melodrama No No No, and when it did (Maps or closer Modern Romance) it felt emotional.

This reissue comes with the sort of fancy shit they never send reviewers – two remastered LPs, plus pages from Karen O’s notebook and a 164-page hardbound book of Nick Zinner’s personal photos – numbered, signed and wrapped in fishnet stockings. It includes nine demos, eight B-sides and rarities and five newspaper lyric posters. There’s also a custom champagne cork 8GB USB stick containing video content.


Everett True

Everett True started life as The Legend!, publishing the fanzine of that name and contributing to NME. Subsequently he wrote for some years for Melody Maker, for whom he wrote seminal pieces about Nirvana and others. He was the co-founder with photographer Steve Gullick of Careless Talk Costs Lives, a deliberately short-lived publication designed to be the antidote to the established UK music magazines.