“Tell Me Off” is the sound of YACOVELLI doing what he does best – pummeling the raw, gritty grind of garage rock into the sneer and swagger of early punk. It’s unapologetic, it’s intense, it’s awesome! But here’s the twist: amidst the slightly organised chaos, it’s the unexpected melody that anchors everything. The hook is everything, that earworming blend of muscle and melody—reminding you of bands like Foo Fighters, perhaps, or Queens of the Stone Age, certainly, at their screaming, subversive and uncompromising best.
Over this abrasive raft of frayed and fantastic, torn and twisted rock, the vocals are spoken, shouted, spat out, rather than merely sung at the listener, while jagged riffs and sonic growls tear through the musical canvas.
But like all good bands trying to bring such forces to bear on their music, bend your ear in and you’ll find more than just the noise. Beneath the fury lies wisdom. Beneath the profanity—the profound. There’s a method, a message. “Tell Me Off” might seem built on chaos and reckless abandon, but it has an exciting and relatable point to make, one about addiction—emotional rather than chemical—about those irresistible urges and the dangerous duality of being simultaneously in love (or perhaps lust) with someone whilst at odds with everything about them.
Opposites attract, even in the heat of conflict—the rush, the tension, the electricity that sparks when such worlds collide. Love and hate, remember, are just opposite sides of the same coin. The music captures that feeling—reflecting both rage and desire in an intense explosion of sound.
Alex’s Yacovelli’s music doesn’t just spring from nowhere; it’s a sound made from the process of soaking up the sweat and swagger, the stress and the strain of the city streets, music dripping with the grit of urban life. He’s been prowling the New York underground music scene since the late 2000s, and memorably played alongside legends, not least Weezer, on stage with them at their legendary Madison Square Garden debut.
This is raw, real, and resonant—music that pushes forward relentlessly, plowing a discernible and destructive furrow as it goes, but never forgetting where it comes from.
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