Review: She Sir "Yens"

Floating the creamy goodness that is dreampop and shoegaze, Texas' She Sir arrive with aural tales steeped in airy percussion, polarised by schizophrenic sounding vocals. In quick succession, the songs on the four-track EP - led by the beautifully quaint "Ginger" - arrive and depart, but a clear dent is left upon its absence.

On occasion folksy tendencies drift into being, but never quite penetrate enough to defer one from sleepy sensations - this really is the equivalent of swimming in mid-air, before arriving at a pool of freshly cleaned be sheets brimming with an elastic smile (which reminds me, I need to wash my bed sheets, they’re filthy. They’re beginning to get a kind of leathery feel about them due to constant use - sleep, not otherwise, sadly. That and there is often excessive fluff and dust trapped in the material which to honest can be somewhat overpowering at the best of times).

Like a night train rolling off into the distance, this is meant to be listened to when summer gradually flees and autumn wanders in unbeknownst. As all turns to dark once again, a brief silence slips inward until a car pulls in. Yens really is quite reminiscent of the silhouette created by the shining headlights as the brightness clothes the perimeter – here cometh the halo.
Everything about this feels like getting wash in light too – the shrouds, the shrouds!!

With a vocal only intro into the EP's final movement, "Boystown" feels like the beginnings of loneliness captured in pure sound. A buzzing background fills out as it gets trapped in its own thoughts, surrounded by people talking amongst themselves, appearing separate and impenetrable.
And then it was done. Short and sweet, almost psychedelic tinged indie, but more sober and reflective than expected. The sound of a solo life, almost barren, yet curiously filled.
Buy Yens here (vinyl) or here (digital).

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Rating: 4 out of 5