Date: September 11th, 2009Location: The Empty Bottle, Chicago, IL
Written By: Derek
I’m intrigued by Jona Bechtolt. His Web site consists of anchors and triads and black and white patterning. His songs are catchy. His dance moves infectious. And his history of pirating software has carved him out a number of powerful enemies. He’s not very flashy, though his tight white suspenders indicate otherwise. He’s not very pretentious, either, though some interviews he’s done suggest the opposite. He’s YACHT. Just another Young American Challenging High Technology. Just another intriguing 20something.\’a0
It’s weird. Music is just music, right? And musicians are just musicians? But what does that make Bechtolt? His beats are addicting, but they’re stolen. Which is OK, I guess, because he knows his work is bound to leak and be downloaded anyway. I’d feel bad about that fact, but the guy literally insists on giving his stuff away for free. At shows copies of his latest LP, “See Mystery Lights,” are $10, but he’s forcing nobody’s hand when it comes to actually buying one. So why do I feel so drawn into the not-cult that was YACHT’s September 11 show at Chicago’s Empty Bottle? (To reiterate: NOT a cult.)
]]>
Date: September 11th, 2009
Location: The Empty Bottle, Chicago, IL
Written By: Derek Walker
I’m intrigued by Jona Bechtolt. His Web site consists of anchors and triads and black and white patterning. His songs are catchy. His dance moves infectious. And his history of pirating software has carved him out a number of powerful enemies. He’s not very flashy, though his tight white suspenders indicate otherwise. He’s not very pretentious, either, though some interviews he’s done suggest the opposite. He’s YACHT. Just another Young American Challenging High Technology. Just another intriguing 20something.
It’s weird. Music is just music, right? And musicians are just musicians? But what does that make Bechtolt? His beats are addicting, but they’re stolen. Which is OK, I guess, because he knows his work is bound to leak and be downloaded anyway. I’d feel bad about that fact, but the guy literally insists on giving his stuff away for free. At shows copies of his latest LP, “See Mystery Lights,” are $10, but he’s forcing nobody’s hand when it comes to actually buying one. So why do I feel so drawn into the not-cult that was YACHT’s September 11 show at Chicago’s Empty Bottle? (To reiterate: NOT a cult.)
Maybe it was the costumes Bechtolt and Claire L. Evans donned — him in all white, the ironic angel, her in black. Maybe it was the ridiculous, cheesy powerpoint he projected onto a screen at the back of the stage? Maybe it was the dancing. When rifling through “I’m In Love With A Ripper,” Jona bobbed around on the balls of his feet, as if he were an epileptic. And the crowd, they ate it up. Perhaps they weren’t reading as far into the YACHT myth as I was.
Part of that myth is the live performance, and unfortunately, it only complicates matters. On stage, Bechtolt moves, shakes and gyrates with whimsy, no look on his face but that of a smile. Off stage, at the merch booth, he chats with fans and doodles on the posters they stole off the wall to form one gigantic, quasi-artistic signature. On mine he spent five minutes drawing a picture of his dead, one-eyed cat. I’m only making that assumption because of how detailed the thing is. Is this really the guy software companies loathe? This guy? This big, smiling ball of energy who hops into the crowd, looks people in the face as he sings and gets his own microphone cord wrapped around his neck? I find it hard to believe. But it makes for one hell of a backstory.
With each individual performance, Bechtolt grows closer and closer to sharing that backstory with the audience. The Empty Bottle show in “Chicago city” inched nearer that horizon. Between songs was a question and answer session, which felt more awkward and out of place than anything. One guy asked what was up with his all white, partially wrinkled suit. Another shouted his question from the back with a drunken splendor: “Why aren’t you in The Blow anymore?” That irked Bechtolt. Or maybe it didn’t. His answer was full of negativity and talk of vengeance, but was it serious? After that he quickly jumped into another song, mentioning that he regretted “question time.” Wouldn’t that complete the act, though?
There was an encore, but it didn’t feature “See A Penny (Pick It Up).” I asked why not, and he fired back saying he doesn’t want to be known by any one song, or feel as if he has to play that song to win over a crowd. He was right; the crowd was won over from the start. Yet I’m not so sure it was because of the music. Could’ve been the dancing. Could’ve been the booze. Could’ve been any number of things. Whatever it was, it was damn intriguing.
Related posts:
