YACHT: I Thought the Future Would Be Cooler

Claire L. Evans is as fascinated by and enamored with ideas of "the future" as she is skeptical and critical of them. She's an ardent "science fiction apologist," a busy writer, an editor at VICE's science and tech journal Motherboard, and a co-creator of 5 Every Day, an app that provides users with "a no-nonsense events calendar and exploration engine" in and around Los Angeles. She's smart as hell, bursting with talent, and pretty damn cool, to put it plainly, someone you can't help but pay attention to when she speaks. Her Twitter is patently great.

Evans is also a member of YACHT, an erstwhile solo project started by Jonah Bechtolt in 2002. Over the course of two albums for James Murphy's DFA label, 2009's See Mystery Lights and 2011's Shangri-La, the pair shared vocal and songwriting duties, crafting disco-touched pop songs exploring cosmic anomalies, hallucinatory excursions, and utopian ideals. It never mattered much that the basis of their sound started as an homage to LCD Soundsystem—hell, even the music video to "Summer Song" was an homage—because their attitudes and charisma elevated the music. At their best, YACHT gave us Devo's wit, Blondie's grace, and Tom Tom Club's playful energy, all wrapped in a knowing grin and a clever concept.

Four years later, YACHT has changed, sort of. Evans, now the sole lead singer, is pictured alone on the cover of I Thought the Future Would Be Cooler, and the title makes clear that she now has something to say. It all seems promising on paper: Evans' credentials posit her as a strong, intelligent voice, and YACHT's punky dance-pop would ostensibly sit well within the latest '80s resurgence. And yet not quite.

For one, although her tone has shifted drastically, the music has remained as upbeat as ever, even goofy in places. At the beginning of I Thought the Future Would Be Cooler, Evans sings, "I only learned who I loved when I left them all in the past," and by its end she's shouting, "Give me entertainment! Death by entertainment!" It makes for a jarring match. When we're told of "mediated war zones and countries full of death" over breezy post-disco grooves and light Rhodes chords in "Matter", it's like a friend making an off-color joke over text—you're pretty sure they're being sarcastic, but it definitely didn't sound that way.

There is some solid songwriting on Future. The juxtaposition of bubblegum new wave and tender synth-pop in "Don't Be Rude" feels effortless and inventive, and "Miles & Miles" is a rousing throwback to those DFA albums. Bechtolt's co-production with Rob Kieswetter recalls Midnite Vultures electro-funk on "Hologram". But for every decent takeaway, we're confronted with "I Wanna Fuck You Til I'm Dead" or the spastic, vibe-killing chorus of "Ringtone", nonsensical amalgams that range from tactless to tone deaf to straight obnoxious. They're YACHT's uncanny valley: lifelike approximations of late-'90s power pop, early '00s Top 40, and blog-house mp3s that somehow aren't lifelike enough. 

I Thought the Future Would Be Cooler has good intentions. As Evans told LA Mag, "The central thesis is not that we're disappointed that we were promised jet packs. It's more like, I don't care about jet packs if we still don’t have basic human rights." Songs comment on our increasing tech obsessions, societal violence and inequality, and future fatigue with effusive hooks, lending each decidedly familiar arrangement a fresh immediacy thanks to upgraded production values. Their messages, however, are in turns vague ruminations, condescending truisms, or just foregone conclusions for anyone with an interest in current events. Future is YACHT's would-be critique of our pre-dystopian, post-Internet culture, but it rarely comes off as more than a charismatic cover band singing us yesterday's news.