With their anti-capitalist tunes and dry wit, the Leeds rockers electrified the Sinclair stage.
Drenched in the glow of blue and red lights of The Sinclair, British rockers Yard Act charged the fog-ridden stage. Amidst uproarious applause, the band’s zany lead singer, James Smith—with a tallboy of Budweiser in hand—joked with his eager audience about how much he loved the opening act (there was none, as scheduled support Bad Waitress had to pull out at the last minute due to COVID). Smith—donning wayfarer frames, mussed hair, and a long, dark olive green jacket with some lovably eccentric moves—emulated a delightfully chaotic combination of Paul Dano’s Riddler and Talking Heads’ David Byrne. Channeling post-punk vocals, funk-infused instrumentation, and anti-capitalist lyrics paired with a dryly humorous disposition, Yard Act proved to be authentic punk rockers that know how to put on one hell of a show.
Despite coming on late, the Leeds-based band took it in stride, erupting into their biggest hit and their debut album’s titular track, ”The Overload”, followed by “Dead Horse.” Smith created an engaging atmosphere when he broke his smooth vocals to collect money from the crowd, asking for donations with that witty and dry British humor. Audience members crowded to the front to pass off their bills to the insouciant Englishman.
With a fan of green in hand, Smith leaned into his mic, breathing heavily, and proclaimed, “It appears I have become rich,” before launching into the band’s rebellious tunes “Rich” and “Payday” (the money, in fact, was given to bar staff as tips for the night). Both of these slick, clever tracks serve as a satire, criticizing capitalism and its effects on society, most notably in the hypnotic grooves heard in “Rich”: “Pitching for business down on skid row / The line goes out the door, and you’re right at the back / Man, two more poor dead kids in a ditch / I fucking love being rich.” The band’s blatant disgust for greed and classism is refreshing. Yard Act’s pride in being themselves and shouting all that they believe in into the void echoes the vibes of all of the past great punk rockers before them.
The punk quartet targeted the unbearable toxicity of misogynistic men in “The Incident”, before moving into “Land of the Blind” and “Quarantine Sticks”. Smith’s vocals were raw and fervent as the night went on.
The beauty of Yard Act is that, despite the group having only been together for two years, their bond as a band is tangible, from the way they tease each other on stage, to the way they don’t miss a beat—literally. They feel less like a band who’s only just come out with their debut album, and more like a band that’s been touring for ages.
They ooze confidence and wit, and it shines on stage. This is especially evident in Smith’s decorum; his presence is electric and alluring, with the David Byrne-influenced stomping and dancing, to his little quips to the audience and his bandmates. You can never quite tell when Smith is being serious, and it works. You can’t tell he’s being serious, that is until he broke into “Tall Poppies”, a grim, six-minute track off of The Overload that chronicles the life and death of a young man afflicted with cancer. It’s a brutal track that slowed the show down and drenched Smith in low light, creating a gloomier atmosphere than what was previously held through the show, but served as a poignant swerve of the more funk-infused songs on the setlist.
Smith amusedly apologized for the downer before launching into the energized “Pour Another” and “100% Endurance”, two of the album’s poppier tracks. Yard Act abruptly slinked off the stage, to which their adoring audience chanted for one more song until the chaotic rockers slinked back out through the fog, grinning, and asked what they should play, to which the Brits in the crowd jokingly shouted, “Wonderwall!” Smith, smirking, turned to bassist Ryan Needham, and drawled, “I don’t think we know that one.” Needham humored the audience by playing the opening chords of Oasis’ “Supersonic”, which earned a roar of laughter from the crowd. Yard Act erupted into slick, guitar-heavy tracks “Fixer Upper”—which achieved notoriety at the height of the pandemic—and “Dark Days.” After finishing their last track, Smith told the audience to go and buy their merch—not because they wanted the money, but that they couldn’t take it up to Toronto with them for their next show. “They’re all XXL and XXXL so just wear it as a stained pajama shirt or sumthin’ and never show it to anyone.” It was a perfectly erratic end to a brilliantly disorderly punk show.
This was Yard Act’s first show in Boston, but they dominated the stage with cool confidence and sheer likability and familiarity as if they’ve been here countless times before. Smith and his punky crew are truly mesmerizing to watch and exude an adoration for the people that come to watch them, for punk, and for being real.