The First Book Of Lessons

As their moniker suggests, Yeh Deadlies are distinctly Dublin in sound and cheery in tone. They also appear to have worn out their old C86 cassettes. The Pastels? Deadly. Early Primal Scream? Deadly!
Recorded in an attic over two days (a fitting modus operandi) The First Book Of Lessons shambles downstairs clutching its twee ideals to its heart. This is an intentionally amateurish, DIY record, grasping for golden age pop by the most rudimentary of means. The opening gambit of ‘The Present Perfect’ and ‘Magazine’ is strong, providing us with pretty little gems that lodge in the brain. Good, but hardly remarkable ­– in other words, standard issue guitar stuff. Perversely, it’s Yeh Deadlies’ limitations that set them apart. When they wander off-kilter down an unexpected avenue and embrace their shortcomings, they can occasionally thrill.
So Padraig O’Reilly couldn’t carry a tune to save a cat from a burning building and when Annie Tierney chimes in she sounds like a helium-filled alien. These are their ace cards. Take ‘Kids In The Band’. Ramshackle and acoustic, the frailty of the playing lends the sweet melody-line some warmth and wistfulness. Elsewhere, ‘It Must Be Thursday, Here Comes Ruby’ nails the ‘60s vintage they adore (think an anorak-clad Ronette waiting for a bus on Westmoreland Street) and the playful swing of ‘Sophomore Evil’ shares a bottle of buckfast with a satanic chancer.
Being honest, there is weak material here, the odd wrong turn there, and it is all a touch lightweight. No matter. When they close with the Beatles-via-a-mental-home harmonies of ‘Almost Two’, you find yourself looking forward to any future lessons in malnourished pop Yeh Deadlies have to teach us.