Send "Young the Giant " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 Young the Giant recall any number of fourth-tier alt-rock bands from the early 2000s-- groups like Audiovent, Injected, and Tantric, who served as grout between the latest Linkin Park and White Stripes singles, every bit as functional and anonymous as their names suggested. Young the Giant not only sound like these bands to a certain extent, but their self-titled debut fits this mold philosophically as well. In recent years indie rock has been increasingly appealing to commercial interests, yet it's hardly seemed to be growing out of an assembly line in the machine room of the Big Music Industry. But this is "corporate indie." You almost hope Young the Giant acquiesced to some music executives' request to compromise their style, because nothing else sufficiently explains a debut so devoid of personality.A quintet of Persian, Indian, British, and French Canadian members descent hailing from Newport Beach, Calif., they're signed to Roadrunner Records, which is presumably still eating off the back catalogs of Slipknot and Nickelback. But their debut LP exists on a singular plane, in that it's pretty much indescribable. I don't mean in the sense that it has no artistic precedent-- think any form of rock that was called "alternative" despite being completely uninformed by punk, electronic music, or anything actually "alternative." Rather it seems the album's intent is to make no impression whatsoever on the listener: ambient music performed like rock, except nowhere near as interesting as that sounds in theory. Vagueness pervades the album; politely distorted guitars twist and churn but never turn into riffs. Choruses become placeholders instead of hooks. Sameer Gadhia's vocals, often recalling Chris Martin's trembling midrange, deliver prosaic lyrics that are neither plainspoken enough to reveal simple truths nor evocative enough to scan as poetry-- there are passing references to general bummed-ness ("Apartment"), addiction (the rank Cold War Kids karaoke of "My Body"), and prostitutes (the cutely named "St. Walker"), but nothing specific enough to prevent them from also selling deodorant....full text |
| Sputnikmusic |
| To be honest, I refuse to acknowledge that Young the Giant are from Newport Beach. If I made a list of things worth hating in the world, bet your bottom dollar that just above dirty Torontonian air and soggy cereal would sit Orange County. Sure, it’s naive to assume after watching an episode of Laguna Beach that everybody there is an uppity, orange-skinned valley girl with as much depth as a puddle but rest assured, once you’ve paid the area a visit, you’ll be clambering to get out. This is why it’s such an internal struggle for me to betray myself and tell you that Young the Giant’s debut album, despite coming from the yuckiest place in the USA, is probably the catchiest, most confident indie rock album you’ll hear this year. Sure, it might not have the sexy strings of Ra Ra Riot’s The Orchard, the warbly vocals of Frightened Rabbit’s The Winter of Mixed Drinks or the oh-my-god-you’re-zooey-deschanel irresistibility of She & Him’s Volume Two, but it has what each of these other albums wishes they could have in spades: lasting power. Not just flair and creativity; confidence. So, yeah, it’s a pretty big deal; Young the Giant is Orange County’s get-out-of-jail-free card for 2010 and I’ll personally award the band with it if I get to pretend they come from Canada. Now if you have no idea who the hell Young the Giant are, let me be the first to tell you that they used to be a band called The Jakes. Now, because you still have no idea who the hell Young the Giant are, let me tell you: they should’ve been on your radar a long time ago. They should’ve been a lot of radars. See, Young the Giant wear their influences on their sleeves but never seem unoriginal or dishonest; they always sound like their own band. Take, for instance, the track ‘Garands’: it’s 60% Coldplay, 20% Kings of Leon and 20% Maroon 5 but at the very same time, it’s 100% Young the Giant. Weird, eh? Or how about a song like the amiable ‘Your Side’? It has a harmless, effective groove straight from the books of Ra Ra Riot but still sounds distinctly honest and personal. Don’t ask me how they do it, but Young the Giant never seem incapable of personalising and making their music their own out of pieces of the music they love; Young the Giant is an expression of the love for music the band has and their desire to reciprocate that love. So remember, it’s not a parasitic relationship; nobody’s getting ripped off: it’s mutualistic. And if you were one of the lucky few people who heard the band’s EP Shake My Hand way back in 2008, you’ll be happy to hear that despite the (stupid) name change, nothing else has made a turn for the worse. The groovy drumming is still around, the catchy-as-hell melodies are in tact, the band unity is stronger than ever and Shake My Hand’s token hit ‘Cough Syrup’ even pays a visit to Young the Giant (this time, with cellos!). And while it’s surely impressive how well the band gels together on tracks like slide-guitar opener ‘My Body’ and the poppy ‘I Got’, it’s hard to discredit vocalist Sameer Gadhia’s as the cog that keeps the machine running. What separates Young the Giant from pop-in-2010’s best work is the fact that not only are they instrumentally solid, they also have a damn fine vocalist that keeps you utterly and entirely captivated. Whether he does that in his smooth falsetto in the ambient ‘Islands’, with his aggressive and infectious voice in ‘My Body’ or with his low and sexy vocal fry in the chorus of ‘Apartment’, Sameer Gadhia ropes in the listener with his deliberate melodies and makes the songs soar with his arena-ready choruses and bizarre inflection (where the hell is he from anyway?)....full text |
| Blaremagazine |
| For some, living in a house on a Cali beach with four friends would be wildly unproductive. For Young The Giant, the temporary paradise was just what they needed to capture the spirit of youth and eternal summer for their self-titled entrance. The illegitimate love child of The Killers and Kings Of Leon, the record is stained with an enchanting melancholic tone, binding indelible choruses (“Cough Syrup”) with a hint of lighthearted nostalgia (“Your Side”). Such a concoction proves the California outfit possess a talent far exceeding the years attached to their age. When most are just discovering themselves, the quintet have found their soulful voice. “Islands” slows the pace but delightfully haunts with singer Sameer Gadhia’s vocals while “Cough Syrup” boasts a chorus that will never leave the tip of your tongue. Call it conditional love, it’s difficult to ignore a group capable of taking high school instincts and breaking them into mature pop rock heartache....full text |
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