Their name might date them to that brief summer when band’s names read more like the titles of irritatingly self-conscious memoirs (We Were Promised Jetpacks, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Get Cape Wear Cape Fly), this Brooklyn outfit nevertheless have lasted much, much longer than Joe Lean and The Jing Jang Jong. And that’s because they’re much, much more than an annoying moniker.
Last year’s third set, Hysterical, kicked off with a rousing call to arms, Maniac, showcasing a band in full control of their engines after a self-imposed five year hiatus, while Ketamine and Ecstasy sounds exactly as fucked up as you’d expect. Elsewhere, there’s shimmering synth washes, bouncy indie and magnetic, pin balling guitar pop.
CYHSY have always, resolutely, done things their way. And, live, it’s hard not to realise that they might have been right all along.
Catch them in all their ramshackle, charming, straight-up best, live this week (after a post-Masque shuffle around) at the O2. Support comes from Edinburgh’s glitchy folktronia outfit Mersault.