Chicago has its fair share of diamonds hidden in the closet studios and barely rehabbed, former-manufacturing, now budget practice spaces that litter the city. Some of the artists who immerge from these pocket dimensions are people you know. Others you will recognize on some distant day in the future, when their passion and prowess can no longer be denied. Still, others would rather that they never be found, preferring the freedom allotted them by obscurity. I'm not sure which Ryan Miera and Yellow Pills was aiming to be, but I somehow managed to find him. His secret is out now, like it or not!
Yellow Pills is Ryan's solo project. Something that he uses to vent musical digressions that would be too difficult to follow with his other band, local indie surf rockers, The Limbos. Born with the name Yellow Candy almost a decade ago, the project has been on hiatus for most of that time, and was only picked up again to help Ryan ward off the onset of madness that could have overtaken him during the COVID-19 shut down last year. And to signal its new direction, the project was rechristened Yellow Pills (also, someone else had started using Yellow Candy, and being a gentleman, Ryan decided to let them have it).
Since reviving the project Ryan has managed to release three separate LPs, listed here in order of appearance: The Strange Casino, Space Age Inferno, and Machines That Go Beep. While there is significant overlap between Yellow Pills's aesthetic and Ryan's work with The Limbos, the real heart of the project lies in its zeal for experimentation- diving into the fresh and welcoming waters of jazz, funk and hip-hop. These spin drifting bursts of creativity are beautifully realized, coherent and self-contained- presented with a winking sense of absurdist pessimism and troublesome levity that invitingly reminds the listener of Stephin Merritt's wry resistance to creative constraints and Kevin Barnes's seeming capacity to reproduce and irreverently warp any and every sound in the Western pop cannon.
Taken on the whole, Yellow Pills's catalog already represents something unique within Chicago's underground- a blending of familiar pop elements in a way that is both comforting and unpredictable. And because I am nothing if not a complete simp for incorrigible underground music, I'm going to take a look at each of these releases and let you know what I think. Someone has to document Yellow Pill's evolution, might as well be someone with my insights, devilish good looks, and obsessive personality... but that's enough about me, let's get to the reviews...
This is the starting point of Yellow Pill's revival. As the cover image implies, this first release is very fitting for some spiritual convalescence in a garden-level rumpus room. It's atmospheric, relaxing, and indulgent. Most of the tracks revolve around a single melodic motif, written and performed for either guitar and piano, and very seldomly, accompanied by vocals. The first couple of tracks start out as mody '60s reverb-soaked surf and R'nB. But before you know, it the lights have dimmed and the mood will have shifted to one of more active lounging- sinking fast into the smokey bebopping grooves of "Salami" and the drowsy waltz of "Sleeping Rosiland." The Strange Casino is music for spaces where you're not expected to get anything of value accomplished and where a drink and a padded barstool are all the company you need for the evening. If you're doing anything more than letting yourself unwind while softly nodding your head and tapping your toes to this record, I'm going to have to pour you a glass of something a little stronger than what you're currently sipping. This is not an album that asks a whole lot of you. Take it up on its offer to coalesce within its unobtrusive vibes. The Strange Casino album is a humble beginning to the project's second phase, and I suspect it is that way by design.
Space Age Inferno
Space Age Inferno feels like Ryan really hitting his stride with Yellow Pills. This is clearly a production-focused album, with Ryan testing his skills through the mixing process, and making some wonderfully calming dance music in the process. "Midnight Secrets" sounds like it originated from a late-night live DJ set during a college radio broadcast somewhere in early '00s Detriot, while "J's Little Jam" has an upscale kind of elegance to the swagger of its bright and strutting glide. The throwback electronic dance music might form the highlights, but that doesn't mean it's all Space Age Inferno has to offer. The album forays back into jazz for the tranquil typhoon of trumpet and guitar melodies, locked in a wordless duet on "The Short Walk," while wondering into new territory with the obtuse piano-rock of "Olo Como Esta," and the bastardized jellied blues and sharp-toothed jazz that congeal together on "The Preacher." This album is not just more ambitious than its predecessor; it is a marked improvement over it in every way. With the release of Space Age Inferno, Yellow Pills has become a group to watch. An unknown quantity of rolling, elastic potential.
Machines That Go Beep
Machines That Go Beep isn't a bad album by any means, but it's hard not to see it as a step backward from Space Age Inferno. At least when it comes to the beginning. While on the previous album it felt like Ryan had found a unique voice for the project, blending electronic music with jazz and soul, while taking frequent left turns down blind allies of intent and exploration, Machines seems to blunt the momentum of that previous release, almost on purpose. Machines That Go Beep begins with two south of the border, surf 'n rollers straight of a Los Striaghtjackets or Red Elvises b-side. It's very primo stuff, but it's not as inspired as what we know Ryan's capable of. After these first couple of tracks, Machines recovers with "Operation Human Kills Clone" which picks up the cold, cosmic simmer left echoing in the air from Inferno, and does so with impeccable confidence and flare. And it really only gets better from there. "I don't really like you anymore. Like as a person" is a crisp dub infused jam with a fresh breakbeat and star-spinning synth melody, while "This is what we call a Texas" rides the whiplash of a groovy Latin rhythm, and "Making Out Or Whatever" feels like it could be the backing track to some rare soul and jazz fusion that could have been a regional radio hit in Southern California circa 1971. Then there is a down-and-out acoustic punk track ("Just One More Time") and even stabs at contemporary, small ensemble chamber-folk ("The Lantern"). Machines That Go Beep starts out a little rough, but still manages to provide ample reminders of why Yellow Pills is one of the more versatile and unpredictable solo projects in Chicago's underground.
