Aarhus punks Yung take the austere vibe of their big-brother bands like Iceage and shoot it through with some old-fashioned American-fuck-up energy, a la Paul Westerberg and Jay Reatard. At the turn of the decade, the youthful dream of Copenhagen’s punk scene probably scared the shit out of most adults. Iceage, Lust For Youth, VÅR and Lower were barely out of their teens and gaining international attention with abrasive, often violent music and bloody shows that were a throwback to a time before punk broke (right down to the unfortunate taste in iconography). Five years later, those bands have become elder statesmen, playing festivals, starting experimental side projects and shifting towards more refined sounds. Hailing from Denmark’s “second city” of Aarhus, the appropriately named Yung aspires to lead the new brigade. However, their youthful dream is more sonically and emotionally conventional: they want to love and to be loved. A Youthful Dream is literal post-punk for Mikkel Holm Silkjær. He spent his teen years in hardcore bands with names like Urban Achievers, in part to piss off his father, who also happened to be a musician. In the short time since their 2015 Alter and These Thoughts are Like Mandatory Chores EPs, Yung have added pianos and horns and harmonies, the sort of thing most of their peers needed two albums to start embracing: the droning, metronomic “A Black Incident” could pass for a Lost in the Dream cover, while Yung tap into shuffling Britpop for “Morning View.” These moments add dimension and depth to the frigid, metallic production, which makes Yung often sound like they’re trying to generate warmth in a meat locker. At least sonically, Yung has embraced beer-fueled, sanctified American fuck-ups like Paul Westerberg and Jay Reatard. Silkjær’s anti-authoritative streak isn’t quite as nihilistic and self-centered, however. Mostly, A Youthful Dream rails against the way “they” prevent “you” from getting what you need to get by. Silkjær longs to help a depressed friend on early highlight “Uncombed Hair,” but sees this situation as indicative of societal ills; he offers the kids a “stiff upper lip” pep talk on “A Black Incident” (“don’t cry out for help, they’ll say you’re weak”), worries they will get stuck in arrested development (“The Child”) with pharmaceutical control the only hope (“Pills”). So, maybe America and Denmark aren't all that different. Yung’s passion is never in question throughout A Youthful Dream; but at times, it’s all they’ve got. When Silkjær traces his vocals over the lead guitars, it’s enough to make “Uncombed Hair” and “Pills” stick. Otherwise, A Youthful Dream can only push through its weaker melodies and reverb through self-will. Taken together, Yung’s expanse and Silkjær’s yearning, belting vocals can actually evoke the early version of U2 that was considered post-punk. There is a messianic streak in Silkjær’s quest to save the youth from themselves and his distrust of whatever constitutes selling out (“Commercial”). Perhaps he’s only beginning to realize it: “I’m not quite sure if I am blessed,” he belts on “Mortal Sin”, and the important part is that he’s not quite sure. (Maybe he's somewhat sure.) And you can sense his increased willingness to dream big when he later sees himself as part of, “Two precious souls leaning against the idea of being in love”. For an anti-romantic punk band, it might as well be “two hearts beat as one!!!”