01. The Year of the Rabbit (03:56)
02. Takahashi Timing (05:24)
03. Pia Dance (05:08)
04. Tam Tam (02:23)
05. The Perseverance of Sano (03:02)
06. Komori Uta (02:29)
07. The Year of the Tiger (03:51)
08. Tokyo Disko (04:48)
09. Shiatsu for Dinner (05:36)
10. White Storm (05:16)
11. Ascending to Matsu’s height (02:34)

YĪN YĪN, the highly touted Dutch quartet from Maastricht, returns with a sonically expansive third album Mount Matsu. Recorded collectively in their own studio in the Belgian countryside, the album is a kaleidoscope of sounds and influences, occupying a no man’s land between Khruangbin and Kraftwerk, surf music and Southeast Asian psychedelia, Stax soul and mutant 80s disco, City pop and Japanese instrumental folk (sōkyoku).

Mount Matsu sees YĪN YĪN at their most mature and adventurous stage yet. Infectious pentatonic melodicism calling for multiple rewinds.

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After capturing widespread attention with their beloved debut album The Rabbit That Hunts Tigers (2019) and its acclaimed follow-up The Age Of Aquarius (2022), the Dutch quartet YĪN YĪN returns with their third LP Mount Matsu, and an expansive new sonic direction. While their earlier releases were a result of the chemistry between its founding members, drummer Kees Berkers and multi-instrumentalist Yves Lennertz (who recently left the band), the group’s lineup change has brought forward a more democratic creative mode. Members Remy Scheren (bass), Robbert Verwijlen (keys) and Erik Bandt (guitar) from the onset joined Berkers in the songwriting process, making the music on Mount Matsu much more than a sum of its kaleidoscopic influences.

“Art and ideas are personal and precious and the process of doing this truly together has been about more than just making an album. It was also a study of how collectives work,” notes Scheren, YĪN YĪN’s bass player since day one. “It’s sometimes hard seeing your own artistic ideas challenged as a member of a group, but we’re very proud of the result. When you truly co-create, literally every sound on a record has been tested through and through,” keyboardist Verwijlen adds. The process of creation, which took place in their studio in Belgium, felt like a long but satisfying ascent, hence the title Mount Matsu. The mountain itself is fictional but in Japanese matsu means pine tree and is (among other things) a symbol for rebirth and hope for the future.

Their mostly instrumental songs, still deeply rooted in the Southeast psychedelia Asian and funk from the 60́s and 70s, are occasionally embellished with hushed vocal harmonies, adding even more depth to their soulful expression. “We’ve decided to only sparsely use vocals, which leaves plenty of room for the listener’s imagination. You can really let your fantasy run wild as you listen and dance to it,” says drummer Berkers. And while off-kilter disco tunes with a trans-local character, neo-Thai psych funk jams and folk-styled soul ballads remain central to their sonic identity, the influx of fresh ideas results in an even more eclectic and effervescent sound image.

There are moments where the Dutch quartet flirts heavily with the dancefloor. Idiosyncratic nu-disco songs like ‘Takahashi Timing’, ‘Pia Dance’ and ‘Tokyo Disko’ conjure a welcoming hands-in-the-air vibe worthy of any digger’s vinyl crate. In the song ‘The Perseverance of Sano’, the worlds of Dick Dale and Wong shadow collide, creating a powerful neo-surf rock anthem worthy of a Tarantino soundtrack. The band’s essence remains unspoilt, though, particularly in ‘The Year of the Rabbit’, a signature moody YĪN YĪN tune that harkens back to their debut album, and the laid-back jam ‘Tam Tam’, a perfect backdrop to your morning coffee rituals. There’s also the trademark tune ‘White Storm’, boasting a spiralling 6/8 Afrobeat groove, floaty synth motifs and shimmering guitar licks.

Elsewhere, they rely on more dulcet tones. The erotic lullaby ‘Komori Uta’, with its shiver-inducing Birkin-esque female whispers, and ‘Shiatsu for Dinner’, with its tear-jerking guitar melodies and softly sung verses, tug at your heartstrings. Their knack for melodious psychedelia comes to the fore in the chaotic dreamlike bass-guitar dialogue of ‘The Year of The Tiger’, while closer ‘Ascending to Matsu’s Height’ comes across as a heartfelt tribute to the traditional sounds of the guzheng (Chinese harp).

Mount Matsu marks a step back from the occasionally more Moroder-esque, rhythm-machine and synth-heavy production style of their second album towards a more organic, 70s live band aesthetic. This is encapsulated in the analogue warmth of their valve amp guitar sounds, vintage synth lines and acoustic percussion timbres, evoking the buzz of being in the rehearsal space with the band. “It was a real adventure trying to capture the new ‘YĪN YĪN’ sound,” notes guitarist Bandt, and that sense of discovery is keenly felt in the compelling music the band created.

Occupying a no man’s land between Khruangbin and Kraftwerk, Stax soul and mutant 80s disco, City pop and Japanese instrumental folk (sōkyoku), Mount Matsu sees YĪN YĪN at their most mature and adventurous stage yet. Infectious pentatonic melodicism calling for multiple rewinds!

1. Satya Yuga (02:08)
2. Chong Wang (04:22)
3. Shēnzhou V. (06:08)
4. Faiyadansu (02:49)
5. Declined by Universe (04:26)
6. Nautilus (04:01)
7. The Age of Aquarius (03:34)
8. Kali Yuga (03:50)

“Yīn Yīn hop and bound along, being whisked up by the pure joy of their experimentation, unafraid to see how far from home it takes them…eccentric, boundary-bashing, genre-melding groove.”
– The Line of Best Fit

YĪN YĪN’s dazzling second album dives even deeper into dancefloor propulsion and space travel atmospherics than their lauded debut The Rabbit that Hunts Tigers (2019).

While there is an expanded sonic richness on the new album as samples, drum computers and otherworldly synthesizers intertwine with the band’s taut playing, more than anything The Age of Aquarius is a simple, direct appeal to dance. The record’s groove manifesto can be put down to YĪN YĪN’s experiences on the road, where the positive energies picked up from their audiences fed back into a sound that increasingly “kept people moving.” 

Funk and disco beats. Electro experimentation. Global retro vibes.

A shimmering, cinematic sweep.

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YĪN YĪN’s new long player, The Age of Aquarius, is a simple, direct appeal to dance. It is also a record blessed with a considerable hinterland; with cosmic time, long studio hours and a determination to transcend the daily ennui of living in the Dutch city of Maastricht all playing their part.

YĪN YĪN see themselves as a bunch of musical dreamers. The track ‘Declined by Universe’ references the fact that “we’re all kinds of drop outs.” The beautiful, old and somewhat staid city of Maastricht, where the band is based, isn’t really conducive to setting up a bustling music scene: and it’s a place where the outsiders quickly recognize each other. YĪN YĪN are all “nightlife people”, which meant their friendship initially came about through co-organizing and deejaying DIY parties. Before the band formed, none had carved out a conventional career, or done the “very Dutch thing” of completing their studies. Things started to move for real when Yves Lennertz and Kees Berkers decided to make a cassette tape that drew on references to Southern and South East Asian music. Once the idea was formed, Lennertz and Berkers wasted no time in taking “a lot” of instruments to a rented rehearsal room in a small village near Maastricht. There the pair set up a couple of mics and recorded a number of songs in three days flat.

Yves: “When we put it [the recorded session] out on tape, the reactions were very positive. So we decided to do a live show in Maastricht. We asked our musical friends to help us out, and from that night on we became a full band: with Remy Scheren on bass, Robbert Verwijlen on keys and Jerome Cardynaals and Gino Bombrini on percussion.”

This “united against the world” stance is also heard at the end of ‘Declined by Universe’, where the band claps their own music, making the track initially sound like a live track. It’s a funny, maybe surreptitious statement of belief in what they do. YĪN YĪN also wanted to create an illusion of strength in other ways: ‘Declined by Universe’ sounds as if there is a large group of people playing, not just the core band. This was done by passing over sampling in favour of live recording multiple layers of percussion.  Yves: “In the end we were getting kind of silly and started applauding every take. We decided to keep that reaction in. I still visualize a sort of school building in Thailand where people are playing this when I hear the recording.” Maybe YĪN YĪN also see their position of a band hiding in plain sight in their own land reflected in the legend of Chong Wang. Kees: “Chong Wang is a historical mystical figure. Very little is known about him and some people even deny his existence. But we wrote a ballad for him on the first album and now dedicated another track for him.”

Regardless of attitude, the new record is bags of fun. Mainly because YĪN YĪN make dreamers music, in the sense that everything can happen, sometimes all at once. The working title was YĪN YĪN In Space, one that referenced the band’s inner vision of an entity that travels through space, encountering different planets, aliens, parties and galaxies along the way. Despite the name change, the music is still the soundtrack for that vision. And the intergalactic party vibes are strong. Nods to brilliant, invigorating dance music abound, some of the thumping beats in numbers like ‘Chong Wang’ the title track and ‘Nautilus’ drop some thumping 1990s-style electric boogie and italo disco chops along the way. Then there is ‘Shēnzhou V.’, which plots a stately course between eastern-inflected pop music, Italo and Harmonia-style electronic meditations. The record’s party vibe can also be put down to YĪN YĪN’s experiences on the road, where the positive energies picked up from their audiences fed back into a sound that increasingly “kept people moving”.

The expansive richness in sound and feel may also be down to the fact that more samples, drum computers and synthesizers are used on The Age of Aquarius than in their previous records, a process that intertwines with real-time playing in the studio. ‘Faiyadansu’, for example, started with a sample found on an old traditional Japanese koto record. Kees: “I first programmed a beat with 808 drums. Yves recorded guitars over that. Then we found some great vocal samples from a lady on YouTube who teaches the Thai language. These phrases and words all have something to do with enjoying food. The last step was to record some extra percussion on top.”

Cosmic appropriations of time also crop up in the titles, which may give the lie to some of the band members’ preoccupations with the state of the world. The Age of Aquarius is seen as a time when humanity takes control of the Earth and its own destiny as its rightful heritage, with the destiny of humanity being the revelation of truth and the expansion of consciousness. An old trope musically the Age is most famously referenced in the hippie musical, Hair. For YĪN YĪN it seems to denote the time when this record first took shape during the previous January, when the Age was meant to finally dawn. Other direct references to cosmic times are in the track names ‘Kali Yuga’ and ‘Satya Yuga’: the Kali Yuga, in Hinduism, is the fourth and worst of the four yugas (world ages) in a Yuga Cycle, preceded by Dvapara Yuga and followed by the next cycle’s Krita (Satya) Yuga. It is believed to be the present age, which is full of conflict and sin. Who said this was just a party record?