Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

The times, they have a changed. Gone are the days of waiting until half seven on a Thursday evening to find out who was the next big thing. Lost are the times when 'gurus' like Alan McGhee unearthed uncut "diamonds" and dragged them occasionally kicking, but almost always screaming, to the public eye. But with the MySpace Generation, came the Blog Brigade. These square-eyed happy clickers are the new powers-that-be when it comes to determining who we, the cyber minions, let into our ears for the months and, less frequently, years ahead. They also help discipline the serendipitous approach many of us take to Internet music searches. This time last year Brooklyn band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah became the latest recipients of the virtual golden seal of approval from no less than online gurus Pitchfork.com.

Whilst by no means as innovative and experimental as previous years' word of mouth successes like The Arcade Fire, the sound of CYHSY is anything but bland. The would-be-awkward integration of Ounsworth's wailing folkish vocal with relentless, driving instrumentation sounds intentionally and charmingly kooky. Comparisons to Talking Heads and The Cure are getting old and despite being occasionally valid, the only intimation of a tribute band within their ranks is drummer Sean Greenhalgh's background with Guns n' Roses impersonators Mr Brownstone. So in light of the prosperity of the Montreal trailblazers, 2006 was foretold by all and sundry to be The Year Of The Clap.

What materialised was not the all conquering twelve months anticipated, nor was it an annus terribilis. The quality of the LP wasn't, and isn't in question. But yet CYHSY weren't eating from many of the top tables at 2006's closing bashes. Sure, it is still 'cool' to like the band, and although fame hasn't eluded them, they are nowhere near as celebrated as other NY scenesters like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Could this be due to their initially blistering rise as opposed to the more gradual ascendancy of others? It may well be better to burn out than to fade away, but does that old adage ring true on the way in? Well The Arctic Monkeys have certainly given it a fair bash. Maybe its due to Ounsworth's not so radio friendly and not so dulcet tones? Or just maybe their 'jerk-pop' doesn't fit with the British masses' '3 nice verses and a sing-along chorus before Corrie' mentality?

With the release of a second album in the New Year, things may become clearer. The début album is a compilation of sounds created by a band having far too much fun to care about media expectations and record label pressures. Will life in the goldfish bowl stifle their lawless and unmolested approach in favour of a more immediately comfortable sound? Here's raising a (most definitely) half full glass of Christmas sherry to compromise not being a New Year's resolution.