Hailing from a small town in the woods called Katonah, Adrian Galvin and Luca Buccellati spent their childhood years together vying for the hearts of dead rock legends and scouring the suburbs of New York City for music. Post adolescence, they parted ways for college, one studying music and the other studying philosophy.
The duo reconnected after graduation back in New York, sharing their new musical perspective with one another. They began creating sounds that embodied the triumphant reclamation of childhood zeal, and the overwhelming quality that all emotions tend to have on two small boys full of wonder. The excitement that filled the room was full of pop sensibility, soaring harmonies and tribal drum rhythms. And from the apartment bedroom, Yellerkin was born.
Yellerkin introduced themselves to the world of music through their ethereal debut single brimming with folk and pop, "Solar Laws." Since then, they have risen quickly, garnering the respect of Teen Daze, Pigeons & Planes, Earmilk and The Wild Honey Pie. Their debut self-titled EP is now available.
And in the band's own words - This collection of songs comes out of a college experience. These songs are steeped in the relationships I had while at school with three different girls. These songs kind of document my collegiate love life in a way. I know it sounds cliché and like of course we write about girls, but these relationships were game changers. The things they made me feel were wild and new and tragic and completely debilitating. There are songs mostly about the endings of these relationships cause like who wants to hear about how dope falling in love is. It’s the dopest. But I think in a lot of ways I use writing as a therapeutic exercise, and putting these kind of tragic stories behind drums and a chorus and synths and other people chanting with me, it makes these difficult memories more manageable, and allows me to find beauty in a lot of the hurt that the songs are about. It’s a lot like re-writing an ending. I mean when the breakups happened I was a crying, broken mess. But when I sing about those moments of despair I'm yelling, I'm beating my drums. It becomes triumphant, it becomes different than what happened. Making music from those broken pieces changes the history and changes how I remember what happened and it changes how I think about these women. And ultimately allows me to function without my heart bleeding all over the place, cause sometimes you get dumped.
And then there's Tomboy, a song I wrote for my sister for her 23rd birthday. It was during college after being abroad, it’s about wanting to be closer to someone, it’s a request and an affirmation of love. I adore and admire my sister, she's an actress in NYC and she's boss at it. I think I started writing it after we had a fight maybe. It’s about getting angry and knowing that it’s ok, as long as there it is repair. This song is to let her know that its ok to let it all out, that the love that makes us a family can stand the force of her anger and any squabbles we might have. Its about me getting over myself to say that I shall not be perturbed, cause she's my sister after all.
So I guess in a way this collection of songs is about a group of women who have seriously affected me over the past couple years. These women are wild. And each of them forced me to look at myself in a different way. These songs kind of document that pilgrimage.