The dilemma relates to Alec Ounsworth’s singing voice. On record, his yelping drawl makes CYHSY stand out from their peers, especially when backed with the kind of electrifying raw guitar genius found on the barnstorming The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth from their debut album.
But put down your headphones and follow the Brooklyn band into the outdoor world and you’ll soon start to question your sanity. That voice you previously thought bearably distinctive turns into a tuneless howl of sonic pain which will draw you to the exit door like a ned to a sunbed.
Don’t say we didn’t warn you if you’re going to Indian Summer this Sunday.