Having summoned the talents of his live band (and the acoustics of the Sacred Heart Centre) to turn the introspective songs of We’re Fucked into a powerful outward force, Yearlings feels more geared toward “one-to-one” listening, through which Amundson can remove the guise of illustrious reverb and collaborative company and embrace a musical nakedness. Featuring just voice and acoustic guitar throughout – sometimes stripped to solos of just one or the other – each song on this six track EP emerges as a rough sketch through a veil of microphone hiss, with Amundson’s voice quivering under the harsh lights of focus.
The four shorter tracks are undoubtedly the strongest; Yearlings works best as fragments that collapse into seemingly premature conclusion, immortalised in a brittle incompletion. The six minutes of “Bordeaux” lack the sense of immediacy and fleetingness that characterises the likes of “Into the Woods” and “Taste”, which emerge and swiftly dissipate into the crumbling plosives of a man-handled microphone. In the perspective of this reviewer at least, Yearlings doesn’t linger; it’s a passing glimmer to be perceived, lost and later rediscovered.