Last year I wrote a song review on Danny Ylang’s Bones — a track that stood out for its sharp emotional edges and DIY honesty. Now, almost a year later, I get to watch Danny Ylang and the Gang perform it live at The Mothership Express at Smoking Kills Bar in Melville — this time with a full band, and fully in his element. The difference is clear. The sound has grown, evolved, filled out — yet still carries the same pulse underneath.
Daniel Adlard, known on stage as Danny Ylang, is not your average indie-rocker. He describes his sound as “happy-sad indie-garage rock,” but that’s just the start. There’s a bit of everything: indie-pop, punk, garage-rock, doom gaze, and touches of neo-soul. Some songs lean into angst, others feel romantic or fun — but they all carry a clear, expressive voice.
He grew up in Edenvale on the east side of Johannesburg, where music became a personal obsession. “It actually started with the song Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park,” he says. That spark turned into guitar lessons, then songwriting, and eventually the sonic palette we hear now. His inspirations are wide — from Tom Misch and King Krule to Surf Curse and Eyedress — but it’s how he filters those sounds through his own lens that creates something distinct.
The production process is mostly solo — vocals, guitar, mixing, even the programmed drums — all done in the comfort of his home. The imperfections are part of the voice. And lyrically, he’s not afraid to sit in feelings most people try to write around: anxiety, self-doubt, vulnerability, hurt. But there’s also fun in the chaos — the kind of fun that doesn’t cancel out the sad, just holds it more loosely.
“A lot of the songs come from relationships,” he says. Romantic ones, friendships, the highs and the emotional fallouts. Bones, in particular, was born from a more literal kind of pain — written after he broke his leg in a car accident. “It’s about the physical and emotional frustration that followed that,” he explains. The track hits harder when you know that. And it’s not the only one that pulls from real-life moments. In fact, almost everything he writes seems to be stitched together from something specific — feelings tied to places, conversations, and people.
Johannesburg itself, he admits, isn’t a huge player in the indie scene. “The artists are few and far between,” he says. “Most music and art that inspires me, I found on my own.” That kind of isolation might explain the individuality in his work — everything from the drum lines to the layered guitar feels very much like his own vision, uninterrupted.
On stage, he leans into the fun and chaotic side of his sound. With his bandmates — Anton, Aidan, and Benji — behind him, the music takes on a different life. “They bring my music to life
in a way I can’t do alone,” he says. It’s a group dynamic that supports the vision without smoothing out its edges.
Danny approaches music with a calm kind of resolve, guided by mottos like “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” He gives himself space, writes from the heart, and embraces vulnerability — though always through a poetic fi lter. “I love brutal honesty in expression,” he says, “but I try to be vulnerable in a way that still leaves things up to interpretation.”
And while his music is deeply personal, it’s never alienating. “I play and sing whatever I want,” he adds, “but I also try make my music relatable and fun — something people can hum or dance along to.”
Looking ahead, he says, “I see myself continuing to write and perform music I love, getting better with every song I release”. More than anything, he hopes to build a community around his sound: “I see myself slowly finding more and more people who can relate and enjoy my music – and then having an absolute party with them at my live shows.”