Yellowbirds

I'm lazy. Rather than describe how a band sounds through the use of adjectively adjectives I prefer to compare them to two or three bands that the general public may be more familiar with. If I'm able to throw in a delicious sexually procreating metaphor then I have my done my job to the fullest.

The Yellowbirds are a project of Sam Cohen and I hate Sam Cohen for making me push my use of adjectives, similes, and metaphors to the limit.

I can't compare Cohen's multi-genre sound to other bands because it seems that his influences are as vast as Pamela Anderson's vagina. At times I want to say that Cohen is the long lost member of the Traveling Wilburys, or that his psychedelic style channels the Byrds, or that he brings warmth to songs that is only rivaled by the Fleet Foxes. I could go on an on and on.

…and on

So this review is going to take a little more effort than I'm used to.

Based on my comments above it may seem that The Color is stylistically all over the map, but Cohen excellently meshes all influences together. It's hard to believe that nothing seems out of place. The Color flows like the even flow of a crimson wave in the dead of night.

Immaculate sounds are sprinkled all over this album. On my favorite track, Rings in the Trees, Cohen self-harmonizes like a narcissist which results in a refreshing sound that is warm and natural. The only way to describe the lyrical melody is 'not rushed.' He holds various notes at length; as if he is lost in thought at that very moment pondering the vastness Pamela Anderson's vagina. Yet the song effortlessly chugs along with auto-harp strums and a steel drum sounding guitar solo.

These traits, in one way or another, carry themselves into other songs on The Color. A little auto-harp here, a little synth there… the occasional organ. Most importantly, that steel drum sounding guitar effect finds it's way on to most tracks. That effect is tattooed on to the pleasure part of my brain between a slice of Lou Malnati's pizza and, well, Pamela Anderson's vagina. Go listen to this album. I heart The Color, but I still hate Sam Cohen.

P.S. I just won a bet with myself because I was able incorporate Pamela Anderson's vagina (yes, this reference counts) four times into this review. I'm patting myself on the back.