Fear Not The Obvious

Digital

A band that knows what it means to boogie. A band that you can tell likes to drink beer. A band that's going to sound good coming out of the tape player in my car. A band that plays rock music so good that if there were more of them we wouldn't need classic rock stations, we'd just call 'em rock stations.

Full Description

The Yayhoos got together and wrote and recorded a batch of songs in drummer Terry Anderson’s dad’s barn. By the time we released them, the album had already become something of an underground legend in roots-rock circles. Bob Dylan recited the lyrics to “Bottle And A Bible” before playing it on his Theme Time Radio Hour and Ambel’s song “Baby I Love You” was featured as the closing credits song in the 2006 James Gunn film SLiTHER.

After releasing the album, we received this fan letter that perfectly sums up our feelings for this under-appreciated classic:

Dear God,

Ever since you took Ronnie Van Zant up to heaven, I just haven't been the same. It's like the world keeps turning but I just can't forget 1977. I wander over this beautiful earth, lost, hoping you'll send me a band to fill this void in my stereo. A band that knows what it means to boogie. A band that you can tell likes to drink beer. A band that's going to sound good coming out of the tape player in my car. A band that plays rock music so good that if there were more of them we wouldn't need classic rock stations, we'd just call 'em rock stations.

These bands today just don't know what rock is. They're either wearing masks and trying to scare parents or even worse; they're scratchin' at turntables and screaming these rap lyrics like everywhere wants to be Detroit or Compton or some shit. Don't even get me started on those pansy-ass boy bands. I thought those bands that wore more makeup than my sister in the '80's sucked, but at least they played instruments. I held on for a while with some of those other bands, like Molly Hatchett and Blackfoot, and I can still dull the pain with a shot of old ZZ Top. It's too bad they've sucked ever since they discovered synthesizers. If I've said it once, I've said it a million times. Keyboards kill rock.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for this record by the Yayhoos. These guys bring it on. Some folks may not like the loud guitars and cocksure attitudes, but that's their loss. I swear I haven't rocked this hard since Street Survivors. Even though Fear Not the Obvious doesn't have dueling guitar solos, the rocking songs more than make up for it. That song where they tear Hank Jr. ("Monkey With A Gun") a new one is pretty good too. Well, thanks again. It might be too much to ask to make the Yayhoos famous but please bring them to my town soon.

Love,
me

CHOICE CUTS:
Our numerous focus groups have been unable to whittle the list down. They are all choice.

Short Description

Fear Not The Obvious is the shot of pure old school rock'n'roll that no self-respecting Stones fan should be without. There isn't a hint of pretension, but plenty of Baird's trademark Southern-fried wit.

— Exclaim
This is a rock record made for house parties and road trips and late night radio. This is music for muscle car radios and eight-track tape players, music for a candy apple red GTO hardtop with a 490 engine and dual exhausts with glass packs.

— Rockzilla
If any of the so-called rock stations in town had the freedom to play a band on an indie label, they could break this record in a big way. It's much more genuine than any bloated and phony Black Crowes album and better than any Rolling Stones record from the past 20 years.

— Creative Loafing
A rollicking party of an album that recall the best moments of The Faces, mid-period Stones and Pleased to Meet Me-era Replacements ... serve[s] as a textbook example of all that can be right about rock and roll.

— Independent Weekly
This type of rock is the marrow that runs through the bones ... If you're feeling a little pale from what VH1 passes off as rock these days, then the beer-fueled twang of the Yayhoos is a fine remedy.

— PopMatters
Fueled by electric guitars stoked like a coal furnace, a rhythm section that alternately swings and pummels, and Baird's rough-and-tumble voice, the album grabs the listener by the ears and yanks hard. Nourishing meat and potatoes rock.

— Boston Globe