Bong Torrez

Dreamy, Pavementy slacker-fuzz pop from the former Emmy The Great backing bander. Reminds me of a lo-fi version of someone like Bitmap, with hints of Graham Coxon era Blur, and a definite air of superiority over many of the wannabes that try their luck every month - Subba Cultcha

'The unfeasibly young looking Euan Hinshelwood AKA singer/mastermind of Young Husband has a remarkable grasp of good American psych pop. Here we have an indie college radio star in waiting'' - V Festivals

It’s official, Younghusband rock. If you want a messy, splurge of noise with a few pop hooks underneath the blanket, they’ve got it. If you want built up anti-folk with enough vocals to make Bon Iver look lazy, they’ve got it. But most importantly they rock, they rock in that Weezer, we went to college in some anonymous part of America, I would have been grunge but I’m too clever to bother hating everyone kinda way.

They are very much from the slacker nineties school of writing a twee poppier than pop song, throw in some decent lyrics and then play it really loud through some filthy, broken equipment.

Euan Hinshelwood started the band as a way of embellishing his anti-folk solo project after previous outing The New Shapes had parted ways and as an extra-curricular add on to his role as guitarist for Emmy The Great; and it is his Elliot Smith-esque vocals that act as the hidden gem amongst the band’s impressive armoury. It has certainly been a while since a band has sounded this different between their recordings and live set. There is a laid back air to both, but that and the song titles are the only similarity. Both, however, are more than worth taking the time to listen to and in the band’s first nine months they have already released an EP through Culture Deluxe, recorded a 6music session with Mark Reilly and supported Eugene McGuiness. By now you have probably just missed the band on their 24-date tour supporting Emmy The Great but they will undoubtedly be propping up the bill at many a summer festival and I suggest you get your ass out and see them. - This Is Fake DIY

t seems narrow-minded somehow to comment on it, yet irresistible all the same, that three lads from Watford could have such a preternatural grasp of the American college rock.
Something about it seems childish and boring. Oh you guys, form one place but sounding like you are from the other place. And yet in this case I feel I can’t not mention it. There has always seemed to me an ethereal yet vast difference between alternative rock(s) on either side of the Atlantic Ocean. As a teenager I could never understand why so few British bands could do the widescreen drama that their American counterparts could. Where were our Pixies and Pavements and Pumpkins? There was, and still are, loads of British bands I loved, but they just couldn’t capture the nerve- tingling strangeness of life the way my American heroes could. For anyone who felt this way when listening to ‘Shady Lane’, finally a British band has arrived who has shaken off our national inability to operate on those grand American terms. Younghusband have a sound which is quintessentially born of the US underground. The trebly, dreamy guitars are a languorous joy, pregnant with faint melancholy and the promise of something to relieve it. Younghusband write instantly engaging melodies, and have the rare ability to find the magical chord which will turn the song on its head when its time for the chorus. ‘Idiot Son’is the second EP the band has released and marks a step forward in their abilities.
The lyrics of chief songwriter and vocalist Euan Hinshelwood are more assured in their ability to relate a narrative this time around, one of the choice picks comes from track 2 ‘Black Boots’: “I dropped the bombshell, and you caught the bombshell, and you cut the wires, cos lightning won’t strike you, and you’ve got such a fascinating view”. The slightly cryptic lyrical style suits Hinshelwood’s delicate, navel-gazing delivery, which is the one part of Younghusband’s sound which is identifiably British. So maybe there was some mileage in the question of geography after all, but ‘Idiot Son’ is a very good record regardless of the terms it’s approached on. - Culturedeluxe.com

Younghusband are a band from Watford, England. Their songs have a strong American influence and I can hear echoes of Pavement and Pixies amongst the songs for streaming - there are also hints British bands on the songs and a little comparison to The Beatles on 'French Grammar' is not out of line. But overall - this feels like a good example of slacker guitar pop. Good stuff, indeed. - Indie MP3

Euan was consequently kind enough to send me the EP and I’m extremely glad he did, because it’s wonderful from the get-go. ‘Mass Kiss’ opens it up with a chorus refrain that owes something to Grandaddy, before delivering a nicely turned lyric, which wrestles fresh relevance from that old chestnut – ‘and I woke up and found it was nothing but a dream’.
Hinshelwood’s voice is very strong. He has a very fluid, relaxed delivery and seems never to be stretching for a note. In vocal company such as this, the listener feels comfortable. The voice comes to you effortlessly. Vocalists who don’t have this ability to connect are faced with an enormous barrier to surmount straight away.
There are many singers who simply sing and try to get away with it (I include myself in that). Then there are other singers who open their mouths and people want in, straight away. I don’t think you can learn it, or ape it, you simply have it or you don’t. I say Euan Hinshelwood has it.
The second track, ‘Mirror Man’, is my particular favourite. Again, the easiest of easy tempo intros puts you in mind of one Younghusband’s influences, this time Blur (‘Coffee and TV’, it’s that three accents on the acoustic, then snare hit pattern. Stereolab use it to great effect on ‘Margarine Rock’ from the Margarine Eclipse LP), before the chorus lifts the song away from the contemporary and off into its own space. The electric guitar that subtly arrives mid song and burrs away thereafter puts me in mind of those woozily lovely Syd Barrett solo songs, only far more coherent and healthy.
‘French Grammar’ follows with a stylised intro, replete with reversed guitar and timpani. Intros that seem to drop you into the middle of a song you’ve been enjoying for a long time (or maybe have always known, somehow) are high on my list of magical things that I like. Then the piano comes in and the rest of the track melts away, allowing Hinshelwood to expose something that is unfashionable, or at least it seems to be. A sympathy, or resonance, with ‘classic’ songwriting.
People who run around with two haircuts, glowsticks, tazers, coke and whatever else will not like this music. Good! F*&k ‘em! - You In A Fine Light

The night begins in a bit of a blur. A last minute venue change means that we arrive at Sleezys breathless and flustered, but a late start means our rushing is somewhat pointless. Up first on the cramped basement stage is Young Husband, better known as the guitar player from Emmy The Great. His pretty boy eyes and blonde(?) mop of curls go a long way towards seducing the crowd and when his simple, three-chord melodies and quavering vocals sing out across the room, the women in the audience swoon with delight. - New Noise

Tonight’s proceedings get underway courtesy of Young Husband, the musical endeavour of Euan Hinshelwood (also second guitar in Emmy The Great’s band), backed by Ad Lambert (drums) and Joe Chilton (bass). Anticipating a folk-tinged affair, it’s therefore something of a surprise to bear witness to quite a different beast. Despite the acoustic guitar Hinshelwood brandishes, there’s an agreeably Weezer-esque crunch to the set, which is as cocksure and promising as they come, particularly in the spirited stomp of 'Alexander'.

- Drowned In Sound

'Could They Be Jealous' sounds most probably exactly as its creator intended it, as a winding, lightly toasted slice of psychedelic indie somewhere between the frazzled peaks of Elliott Smith’s unfinished opus From A Basement On A Hill and the shambling troughs of Syd Barrett, trudging indifferently from major to minor chord, occasionally rallying round the odd stray thought; psychedelia in dire need of a shave.

As such, it’s well-crafted, competently executed and even mildly ambitious – ample evidence, in short, that there’ll be bigger and bolder strokes to come in the new year
- Drowned In Sound