From the steady brush strokes of its drums to the full-bodied mellow strums of its acoustic guitars, The Graves' second album is cushiony, hot-weather indie rock-- about as soothing as succumbing to the 100-degree heat that pins you to your futon. Singer Greg Olin's husky voice croaks and offers you a beer before it slouches deep into your saved-from-the-garbage armchair. Now you're ready for some dozy, late-afternoon slacking.
And then you notice the lyrics. Olin casually drops bombshells such as opener "The Will Now"'s "I'm gonna cut your name into a willow/ I'm gonna push your face into my pillow", as if to make sure you're paying attention. That's...cuddly. Or consider "Strength in ###'s" promise to "Lie down with virgins/ And make credible conversions." And when the lyrics aren't sexual, they're repetitive or full of obtuse images-- what is "End Love"? In other places, Olin's lyrics are just plain cute, like when he plays the endearing counting games on "Connection Time" (which also comes in a French version). The songs are also self-aware: The record's most humorous moment is when, on album midpoint "Shake the Walls", Olin announces, "This is not the best part/ The best part's coming later."
The band's aesthetic fits perfectly on the Hush Records roster next to Blanket Music and The Places-- but even if the music lulls the listener, Olin's words regain your attention. His humor is sophomoric-- and that's not meant as an insult. It's jolting and invigorating without derailing the songs or playing for shock value. Olin's sense of humor also unexpectedly make the music more intimate: He dissolves the arm's-length distance at which you'd keep most crooners. Olin is here to engage you, with a joke or a scare, and the laughing female voice that half-joins him on some of the songs reminds you that he's aware of his audience.
Olin's arrangements are as subtle as his words-- he inserts little "what was that?" details with a deft sleight-of-hand: the digital flutter that opens the album, the harsh analog keyboard that plays the hook to "The Will Now", the tape glitch-y jerk near the start of "Holding Your Arms", the light keyboards that float beneath the album's guitar, piano, and drums. Guests show up from Norfolk and Western and Desert City Soundtrack-- dig the horns on "Headphone Brigade"-- and when Olin promises us halfway through that the best song is coming up, he's probably referring to "Strength in ###'s", near the end of the record, which breathes enough vim into the synths and guitar to wake you up for the send off.
But with less than half an hour of music, Yes Yes Okay Okay doesn't do much more than soothe your nerves. While the lyrics try to convey wit and intelligence, the music doesn't coax much more than a smile. Even if a few songs linger, they don't make a deep impression. On the other hand, by insinuating his ideas instead of hammering you with them, Olin stops himself from acting "clever" or "wacky," or jerking around the spotlight in an effort to make his jokes. He's just clever enough not to ruin the mood.
