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Rating: I Drive Like Jehu were a band from San Diego, active in the first half of the 90s, dedicated to a finely crafted emo-core and creators of only two albums. This “Yank Crime”, dated 1994, is their swan song and, according to many, their best work. Led by Rick Fork and John Reis, DLJ were one of those American bands that, in the 90s, picked up the legacy of the post-hardcore pioneers (Rites of Spring, Squirrel Bait, Bitch Magnet) and adapted it to the post-rock era. Their music relied on the sparkling duets of the two guitars, a volcanic yet extremely precise rhythm section, and the singer's screaming: in short, the quintessence of emocore.
The masterpiece is at the beginning: “Here Come the Rome Plows” (worthy of Rites of Spring, only played on less "spring-like" and more oppressive sounds) bursts forth as a vivid manifesto of their entire aesthetic, with saturated guitars, breathless runs, dissonant counterpoints, a dramatic flair, convulsive harmonies, agitated rhythms, unrestrained baroqueness; all perfectly measured for over 5 minutes. It's a pity that the rest of the album is not always at these levels. The essence of the work is indeed made up of tracks that are really too long, too elaborate, too self-indulgent, and ultimately repetitive. What the San Diego guys lack is a sense of restraint, the very thing that made Squirrel Bait great (duly paid homage to in the disheartened refrains of “Golden Brown” and “Super Unison”).
“Luau”, one of the key moments of the album, is around 9 minutes long and offers an obsessive, hypnotic cadence with a geometric interweaving of guitars reminiscent of Don Caballero, a mournful, anguished singing, sharpened by a suggestive play of vocal overlays. “Do You Compute” instead is introduced by a shrill guitar arpeggio, which funnels into a minimalist progression reminiscent of Terry Riley's teaching, closing with a subdued and cryptic Slint-like coda. And Slint (those of “Good Morning, Captain”) return punctually in the closing elegy, “Sinews”, which attempts in vain to reach the levels of an “Americruiser” (Bitch Magnet) or a “Trowser Minnow” (Rapemen) in the gallery of pseudo-piano-forte ballads, often placed at the closure of prestigious (pre)-post-rock albums.
The main flaw of this album is the desire to demonstrate at all costs the wide range of harmonic solutions available to the band, which leads to focusing more on form than on substance. Despite its flaws, “Yank Crime” remains an interesting work to understand the more or less recent developments of that genre that was once called "hardcore".
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Here Come the Rome Plows (05:43)
Sad to say its over now, here come the huns
pick a side, or pick a spot
here come, here come the rome plows
cal state
no fun
why waste
your time
here come the huns
be my date tonight
here come, here come the rome plows
stay put
here comes
to clean the slate
to pass the time
to erase
yank crime
yeah we're on
the recieving end
i never been
dear heart, dear friend
i never been on
the recieving end
not a scratch, not a dent
i never been on
the recieving end, i never been
02 Do You Compute (07:12)
Do you compute?
I think you do
don't need it proven
don't wanna listen
don't need a tour of the pieces i'm missing
as if you were put here to straighten us out
and everything you said was being written down
you weren't and it isn't and nobody's listening,
and nobody gives a fuck what you go do with your life
03 Golden Brown (03:14)
I got a shingle and i'll guard it with my life,
i'm just keeping off the flies
yeah i drank from the tap
shoulda left it in the pipes
this is my cause and my excuse
i'll take the loss but i'll get what i got due.
yeah i ain't burnt
just golden brown.
04 Luau (09:27)
Failures in outer space, failures and crimes,
lets get something straight: s'not for mine.
before you were born, after you die,
failures in outer space, failures and crimes,
it's depth - whatever its worth -
it's in the unit to measure the curse -
it's in the set-up yeah it's built in,
whatever the get up - yeah it's built in -
wait til the rubout - wait til the purge -
wipe the last ahole the fuck off our turf -
aloha! aloha! suit up!
luau! luau! luau! luau!
kill off the tourist and we'll all sleep sound
cash-in their fillings & blow it in town
we'll blow it on rifles, we'll blow it on drinks,
head in the corner, head in the sink
05 Super Unison (07:24)
Ready ready to let you in.
up with the mob.
it ain't no accident we're better off.
you're set to inherit what i got.
you're putty now in my hands.
you're bloody now in my hands.
yeah keep the herd in check or be absorbed.
thats all.
yeah that'll happen next and who'll be there to write you off.
bla bla bla...
08 Human Interest (03:24)
You set it up, you set it right,
it's fair enough. al'right:
if i want a loan, if i wanna trespass.
why should i walk when you've got wheels.
when i'm in doubt, when i'm in debt,
when i'm in deep at your expense.
then i owe you. i owe you. i owe.
i'd never make you suffer, i know that wouldn't do,
and that ain't practical, and i ain't through.
when what i got needs fixing, when i want something new,
i know i'm covered with you. your're my human interest...
09 Sinews (09:07)
Found yourself an asshole
find yourself the door.
ain't gonna fix your leaks for you.
ain't gonna watch the store.
every last string and gut pulled apart and divvied up
my share
trash man (etc.)
found yourself an asshole,
knew you could afford.
keep your handouts - cup cake -
find yourself the door
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