Do the Kurt Cobain and blow your brains out.

There is a story I wish I could tell you about something that happened at YACHT at the South Street Seaport. It’s a spectacularly unlikely tale that would make you laugh, think and question whether it ever really happened. But I can’t tell you that story, unfortunately.

I can tell you that YACHT aren’t very good, though. If you know YACHT, then you pretty much know that they’re camp as Dachau, with not a whole lot going on except DIY disco and some slogan shouting.

I’ve heard reports of them being a lot of fun, and I don’t deny that in certain situations, they could be a lot of fun. But on this day, at this place, with these climatic conditions and this geopolitical balance, YACHT weren’t a lot of fun.

Their songs are, for the most part, fluff, and despite the fact that maybe two or three could have been worth attention, everything was marred by a drummer who couldn’t keep time to what were obviously quantised beats, and a generally pretty low tightness:trying to make people have fun ratio.

Thumbs down to YACHT. Worth it only because of the thrilling, secret story I can’t tell you.

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