“The Fire” is mood music by San Francisco’s Younger Youngest. It moves along gently on dual-note chord forms and introduces in succession a handful of other guitars that each serve to color in the spaces of the mood. The first few guitars softly color the brighter places, but it’s a crisp, scaly serpent of a guitar that brings the most severe tints and threatens to darken the image. The thing that keeps this from happening is China Langford’s voice.
With a near-whisper of breaking-point anguish, Langford presents to us the mythic woman-done-wrong, the one that seeks to save the wayward soul of her lover despite the dangers and depths of disappointment. Even when her voice leans into the chorus, she holds back, saving every spare nuance of passion and emotion for the work she feels she must do, which serves the song better than anything less restrained could do. During both visits of the chorus—the song’s loudest points—even the drums show impressive self-discipline.
“The Fire” comes on slow and Younger Youngest are in control of its every lick, spit, and spatter.