I tend to see rock as a big, clan-like family. At this point, I don't think that anyone has any illusions of actually creating something completely new within the genre, so the true artistry of rock is becoming more and more about the admiration for what some artists can do with the infinite pieces they have collected throughout the years from numerous sources, either related to their own style or not.

In a way, it somehow illustrates Jean-François Lyotard's Post-Modernism theories; we increasingly tend to briefly approach styles, variants, and ideas, without ever exploring them further, and mixing them in a way that originates new combinations, with the true originality coming from those same combinations and not from the ideas themselves. The meaning and relevance of an object of art -- even if we are talking about rock here, which seems perfectly adequate to me -- then resides in the relations that its fragments, stolen from other entities that once seemed unfragmentable and unsampable, create in the void that constitutes the vehicle for intercommunication.

This being said, I bet you can see where I'm going regarding my views on Yak's debut album Alas Salvation. Recovering groundbreaking stuff like early Stooges and booze-meets-cocaine-LA-rock, the London trio have been on a similar path to The Wytches in regards to what they did on their über-awesome debut Annabel Dream Reader back in 2014: referential, ma non troppo.

Opening track 'Victorious (National Anthem)' emerges as a quick yet powerful blow to the head, as if you were walking alone through a dodgy area at night and out of nowhere something struck you. Which is a great explanation for what happens next, since the visceral violence of the opener is but a gate for a restless 13-track journey during which everything - but boredom - happens. Single 'Hungry Heart' and Iggy and Lou's love child 'Use Somebody' follow, the latter flowing through the brief demi-monde of 'Wilting Away' and into 'Roll Another' - in a sequence similar to what La Femme did with 'La Femme'/'Interlude'/'Hypsoline' on their 2013 debut Psycho Tropical Berlin.

As we're thrown directly and unmercifully into 'Curtain Twitcher', we're already heavily bruised from the first half of the album, and will have to wait until 'Take It' to finally take a breath. Vaguely reminiscent of late '90s Radiohead for its uptempo melancholy, this is the first track that somehow distances itself from the raw glam-punk that has been beating us up since the beginning of the record. 'Take It' embraces a more chaotic/hypnotic vibe as it comes to a halt, probably to better establish a bridge to its successor 'Harbour The Feeling', one of my personal favourites.

And as the short yet piercing 'At Last Salvation' (which the album's title was probably derived from) uses a cockney-Kinks' fix as its cherry-topper, 'Smile' appears as a vicious 'Gimme Danger'-like comedown, quickly becoming a new addiction that already found its place on my infinite-replay list so it can keep ripping my heart forever. If bright orange-coloured 16mm film was a song, it'd probably sound like 'DooWah'. Its summer anthem status soothes our soul a bit before 'No Glitter Just Gutter' comes strangling it again, just to make sure we're properly prepared for album closer 'Please Don't Wait For Me', which again showcases the remarkable elasticity of Oli Burslem's voice.

I was unfortunately unable to attend their show at La Mécanique Ondulatoire in February, something I bitterly regret since they are one of the bands I want to see the most this year. As I patiently wait for them to pay another visit to the City of Light, Alas Salvation will certainly be spinning on my turntable at regular intervals, reminding me why I still care about what's being done in music in 2016.