The Youngs

It's all downhill from here because we started at the top," laments Eryn Young, drummer-singer for the Youngs, on the opening track from the band's self-titled debut album. The husband-and-wife duo's well-crafted melodies tug at the same tender heartstrings that Carpenters tunes do. But, while Karen and Richard's soft pop fell way short of edgy, the Youngs' brand of happy-but-sad is drunk with dark, heavy-lidded, prog-rock flourishes.

Bill Picture - San Francisco Chronicle

THE YOUNGS
(Rendezvous) Tim and Eryn Young share a life and a band. Let's hope the domestic situation is as harmonious as the musical setup. Both sing like a less-agitated John Doe and Exene Cervenka while Tim plays mean and affectionate guitar and Eryn drums and manipulates samples. Their homespun folk-rock songs emit dulcet melodic sparkles and induce swoons in those partial to romantic balladry and beautiful guitar filigrees (check their lovely cover of Lou Reed's "Satellite of Love"). Their second album, Hand Up, Head Down, featuring Asva's John Schuller on bass, furthers the Youngs' ascension to becoming a Seattle institution. DAVE SEGAL - The Stranger

The Carpenters a few boards short of a house? The Captain and Tennille and tequila? The White Stripes running crooked down the highway?
Any of the above is a fairly good approximation of the Youngs, the husband-and-wife team of guitarist Tim Young and singer/drummer Eryn Young. They're a couple of musical weirdos, and I mean that as a great compliment.
If the Youngs were forced to be normal, it would probably kill them. They often dabble in the mainstream, but it's just a launching pad to take off into the freaky outskirts of pop music. A line from one of their songs tells it best: "farewell to gravity."
Yet both are grounded, musically, with considerable experience collaborating with some of Seattle's finest. Eryn Young has performed and recorded with the Sun City Girls, Wayne Horvitz, Skerik, the Young Composers Collective, the Oxygen Ensemble, Crack Sabbath and others. Tim Young is quite busy in Seattle rock and jazz circles, playing with Zony Mash, Very Special Forces, Bill Frisell, Tucker Martine, Paul Moore, Matt Chamberlain and many others.
The two met at Cornish College of the Arts in the early '90s, then drifted apart until, as Eryn tells it, "When I moved back to Seattle in 1999, Tim and I became romantically involved and moved in together to a little one-bedroom shack in our lovely little neighborhood in South Park. Many late-night tequila-induced jam sessions took place."
They first played together in public later that year, at the old O.K. Hotel (R.I.P.): "This gig included an a cappella version of the national anthem, a duet for theremin and erhu (Chinese violin), electronic vocals with guitar and some Neil Diamond covers."
Now, Eryn and Tim have finally released their first CD, "The Youngs." It's being released on former Mr. Bungle guitarist Trey Spruance's Web of Mimicry Records (www.webofmimicry.com).
You can hear the ghost of Frank Zappa sneering here and there on "The Youngs," as the album is frisky and freaky — yet can also be straight-ahead. "The Last Migration" has a strong Grandaddy/Sparklehorse feel to it: easy, fetching indie rock. "The Industrial Way" is a crunching, powerful pop-rock song. "Killing of the King" has Eryn's alluring voice surfing Tim's cresting guitar.
Then again, these two can be super-weird, as on the Devo-esque "Breakdown," or "Pride and Shame," which starts out as a call-and-response number, then slowly morphs into something from the "White Album"-era Beatles swirling into a distorting black hole; it includes lyrics such as "a thousand thirsty people/and one damned faucet."
Got Bacharach? The Youngs cover "Walk On By," distorting it like an audio version of a fun-house mirror.
Playful and experimental, the Youngs push the envelope on pop music, not afraid to be almost annoying (the ending of "Walk On By" loops on and on, for instance). Sure, some of the album falls into the "just diddling around" category, but it's almost always fun, unpredictable and fresh.

• - The Seattle Times