From following the indie crowd to carving his own musical path, Ash Birch caught up with Sheffield artist Yarni in his former Night Kitchen studio to hear about his journey from indie band drummer to sonic traveller, plus a healthy dose of 90s football and some Simon & Garfunkel chat!
New music recommendations often come at me out of leftfield these days, so when one of the school dads raves to me about a local producer at the school gates, I’m obviously all ears.
One such suggestion led me to self-proclaimed ‘sonic traveller’ Yarni and his eclectic mix of electronica, jazz-funk, deep house, trip-hop and soul instrumentals.
As it turns out, I actually already know Yarni, real name Benji Harris, from his time in mid-noughties indie rockers The Field, and this is how I find myself in his studio just off Shalesmoor, surrounded by a mausoleum of musical gadgets.
I don’t mean to give the impression it’s cluttered. Far from it. There’s no mess of unruly cables and discarded pedals. Like most things Yarni, there’s a care and thoughtfulness to the space; everything has its place.
“Physical stuff is what I grew up with – that’s why I’m surrounded by things,” says Yarni, who, when he’s not experimenting with sound as his alter-ego, works as an electrician. “You can do what I do on a laptop at home, but the joy in it for me is when something’s slightly broken, or it’s not working right, and then you capture that. That’s the bit you can’t replicate with a computer.”
Far from his studio in the old Night Kitchen building, Yarni grew up in Intake before moving to Meersbrook and had what he describes an “absolutely normal 90s childhood”, spending time playing on the school fields that backed on to his house and getting up early to watch James Richardson sipping espresso in a piazza on Football Italia.
He said: “I’d be sat there, watching this amazing, atmospheric, smoky football. I always went to Sheffield United games, but that was like a completely different world. One of my earliest memories is Paul Gascoigne moving to Lazio.”
While Gazza’s Serie A exploits and football in general punctuate his early years, his earliest musical memories are also set against the backdrop of home and an old upright piano belonging to his mum.
“My mum and boyfriend at the time used to just sit there and noodle away,” says Yarni. “Neither was really trained, I just remember them being able to play well together.
“My mum was really into Simon and Garfunkel. That’s the one musical reference that’s been a constant, literally from five years old to now. I think I got my sense of melody from them.”
In his teens, he began to marry that sense of melody with rhythm, learning the drums and starting a band at City School with his friends.
“I ended up having a few drum lessons, which are ridiculous. I get it, and I like a bit of jazz music, but I stopped the drum lessons very quickly and just listened to Rene from The Stone Roses and Jon Bonham. I’d spend hours and hours trying work out what they did.
“I got a four track off my mum and a £50 guitar from Wizard and learned the basics of recording, making shocking demos.
“Leaving school, I was absolutely convinced I was going to be a rock star drummer. I was the least talented but most driven member of the band, so I was absolutely determined to do it. I was willing to sacrifice everything to rehearse; whereas for other people it sometimes became a chore and priorities changed, but mine has always been music.”
At this point in time, in the mid-noughties, there were some pretty notable Sheffield indie bands making huge waves on a national and global scale, but Benji and his band The Field never felt part of it.
“We were disconnected geographically from all the bands in North Sheffield, but we wanted to be part of a movement.
“Unfortunately, we got brandished with the ‘Lad Rock’ label. We had one really bad review saying we’d got a load of football hooligans coming to watch us. Partly true, but there wasn’t any violence.
“One of the lessons I’ve carried with me is that as soon as you follow a trend, you’re behind. There’s no point. I don’t listen to a lot of new music now, and I maybe suffer for it, but I don’t want to be influenced by scenes and trends.”
Towards the end of the noughties, as the band was beginning to fizzle following line-up and name changes, Benji began DJing alongside his friend and now Ibiza resident, Danny Beck. This began to scratch the electronic itch Benji had developed through another early musical influence, his auntie’s Hacienda tapes.
“I started to realise I preferred it,” says Yarni. “I bought a MacBook with Logic and tried to work out what Toddla was doing.
“Sheffield is known for indie bands, synth pop and extreme experimental stuff like Cabs [Cabaret Voltaire], but also really hard electronic music like bleep, jungle and niche; so, for me, being electronic and melodic, there was no real outlet for it in Sheffield.
“I tried to emulate bassline tracks. It was completely different to my indie upbringing. As an experiment in becoming a producer it was worthwhile, but this was a period of time when I was just lost.”
Through DJing and putting on nights, he began to find his feet again. He created Yarni, named after the 90s Croatian footballer Robert Jarni (pronounced Yarni), and realised he didn’t need to be part of a scene.
“When I created Yarni, I set out a ten-point bullet list and I’ve done nine of them. I’m very proud of what I’ve achieved on my own terms. There’s been no compromise. I’m just an indie kid that likes extracting things and seeing if I can bolt them together.”
“I try to extract sounds. I don’t listen to a song and go, ‘I want to write a song like that.’ It’s more, ‘How did the Beatles record that organ sound?’ I’ll just go down a rabbit hole and see if I can plausibly emulate that and put that into something else. It’s cherry picking.”
Four albums in, while comparisons can be made to the likes of Bonobo, it’s this approach that makes Yarni that intangible thing – he’s unique.
Even now, his sound is still constantly evolving, and he’s often inspired by what’s going on his life and other cultures that he’s visited and learned about.
“It’s like a diary,” he says. “They’re all [the albums] representations of where I am in my life.”
“The first album, my nan was ill so that’s quite dark. The second album is a Japanese concept album and I brought stuff back from my time there. The third album is called Pigna, which is Sicilian for pinecone and the symbol of Sicily.
“Sicily has had so many people pass through it that it’s a massive melting pot of culture and they use the pinecone, which opens outwards, to represent them opening their arms. That was the idea behind the album, because I’m opening my arms to collaborations.
“In lockdown, I sent messages to Facebook musician groups looking for woodwind and brass players. Fortunately, three people sent some parts over and I was spoilt for choice.
Recently, Yarni has been experimenting with taking his music out of the studio and into Sheffield venues as both a two- and three-piece band.
“I’ve got grand visions and long-term, I want to find a singer and writer who aligns with me. It’s the missing piece of the jigsaw.
“I’ve got to 36, and this is the first time in my life where I’m really happy with where I am and what I’m doing. I know who I am. I know I can’t please everybody. I know most of my flaws and can work with them. I’m not a punky 17-year-old who likes Libertines anymore. I’m a 36-year-old, who also likes the Libertines – but also Steely Dan!
Stream/buy the new EP at yarni.bandcamp.com
