Inside Yot Club’s Simpleton Dreams
- Josh Kitchen
- 1 day ago
- 9 min read
By: Josh Kitchen / May 28, 2026
“Simpleton is about attempting optimism in a world that feels increasingly hard to be optimistic about,” says Ryan Kaiser of Yot Club. But, he goes on to say, “No matter how soulless and bleak the modern world can feel, people still manage to carve out meaningful lives and create beautiful things.” That idea — a hopeful refusal to simply accept the world for what it is — sits at the core of Yot Club’s third, and finest, album to date.
Ever since blowing up online with the pre-COVID lo-fi chillwave anthem “YKWIM?,” Kaiser has resisted giving in to the crushing monotony of the post-COVID landscape, gifting listeners two great indie pop records in off the grid and Rufus, albums filled with sticky hooks and early-aughts-inspired beats. But on Simpleton, it feels like Yot Club has truly come into their own.
The original artwork by Jake Longstreth that graces the cover immediately evokes a world at odds with itself — a slice of ’90s suburbia that feels both brutalist and strangely liminal, simultaneously conjuring memory, possibility, and ideas of what could have been. Those themes come alive on the Weezer-influenced “Possibility” and in the Brian Wilson-esque vocal layering of “Today.” Simpleton still carries the spirit of DIY musicmaking, but now through the lens of someone who has devoted themselves to becoming the kind of artist they once looked up to — and, in turn, inspiring the next generation of musicians coming up behind them. I caught up with Kaiser to discuss new record, the generosity of being a musical helping hand, Crosley record players, and the beauty of being a simpleton.
Simpleton has been out for a month now. Talk to me about how it's felt to have it out there.
I’ve been working on these songs since 2024, and it’s been a long time coming. It’s hard for me to stay focused on one thing and write about one thing and keep it cohesive and keep it linear throughout the whole thing. So I feel like, with this being the third album, it’s the first one where I’ve stayed on task and stayed focused in terms of a consistent theme and aesthetic throughout the whole thing.
What I love about Simpleton is that the album cover — that incredible artwork by Jake Longstreth — feels like a perfect visual extension of what I’m hearing on the record. There’s this real push and pull between something deeply organic and human against the industrialization and digital world we’re all living in.
Yes, I’ve been a huge longtime fan of Jake Longstreth, and I feel like his work is basically the visual version of my work. So it’s kind of been a dream to have him do something or to license something from him. But honestly, I didn’t think I was on that level. I made a mood board for my management and sent it to them, and I was like, “I really like some art like this.” And they were like, “Well, let’s just reach out to this guy.” And I laughed. I was like, “Wow, yeah, he’s not going to get back to us, guys. He’s got a podcast with Ezra [Koenig] from Vampire Weekend. He’s got artwork selling on Sotheby’s for thousands of dollars. I don’t think he’s going to do this. He doesn’t even do album art. It’s beneath him.” And then he just emailed back immediately and was like, “Yeah, what are y’all thinking?”
That’s insane.
Always reach out to the best option first, I guess.
You said you’ve been working on this record for two years. A lot of the feelings on this record are so relatable and kind of timeless. So even though you’ve had it for two years before putting it out now, you weren’t really in danger of those ideas becoming stale, because they're omnipresent.
Yeah, honestly, the way I make music is more rooted in nostalgia than trying to make alien noises or things people have never heard before. You’ve got artists like 100 gecs doing that kind of thing, but a lot of the stuff I make is based on older music I grew up listening to. Trying to make something sound new and nostalgic at the same time is always a fun challenge. Certain things in music are just tried and true. Certain chord progressions have just been proven to be loved by people, and you don’t have to ask yourself why. So I try to infuse familiarity and nostalgia with a new angle that sounds a little different. You’re getting things that feel familiar and nostalgic, but it also doesn’t sound like I’m just copying Led Zeppelin like some bands may or may not be doing out there.
"Projecting" reminds me of Weezer. But not in a way where I’m like, “Oh, this is just a Weezer copy.” It’s clearly somebody who was raised on an era of that music and let it seep into their psyche. You can’t help but put that out because those chord changes and progressions are just so universal.
Yeah, I appreciate you saying that, because I didn’t call it Simpleton for this reason, but I did like that it kind of sounded like Pinkerton. It feels like a parody of Pinkerton or something. But yeah, that’s not the meaning.
And then a song like “Today” toward the end of the record — one of my favorite tracks — it’s just so dreamy. It reminds me a lot of Brian Wilson vibes. There’s so much there for so many people. I feel like anybody who likes pop music is going to put this record on and find something there for them.
I appreciate it. I really took my time, especially on that track. It’s tempting to get ideas out as quickly as you can because you just want to show people and be like, “Look what I made.” But keeping it, making a demo, being more thorough with the writing and arranging, and being completely honest with yourself and saying, “This could be a little better. This could be fuller if we added some guitar feedback or created a feedback loop with a delay pedal. It needs more textures.” Something can be cool but still not complete. I was trying to be completely honest with myself throughout the whole process because some things are hard to do. Some things are a lot of trouble. So the lazy part of your brain is like, “Do we really need to do that? Do we really need to bust out the jazz chorus and turn it all the way up and make it feedback?” But I just didn’t want to leave anything on the table for this one. With the first two records, there are things I wish I did better. Things I wish I was more thorough on. They feel more like song compilations than cohesive records.
So I got my criticism of those records, and I didn’t want to have any regrets on this one. I went real thorough with it and kind of went hermit mode during the process of making it. I was living in Philly, and I don’t have any friends in Philly. Everywhere else I’ve lived — Nashville, New York, LA — it’s easy to meet people or run into people you already know from the internet. Philly is a hard place to make friends, so I kind of took advantage of that and became a hermit and made this album. Honestly, it was kind of nice.
That's too bad to hear about the City of Brotherly Love.
No, they’re definitely the City of Brotherly Love, but that love is gatekept. You have to get behind the gate somehow. I was trying, you know? I was working on the album pretty much every day. I had this apartment that had a coffee shop on the bottom floor, and they had good sandwiches too. So I just never left my building. I was constantly eating these sandwiches and recording in my closet because it was the best sounding space.
Do you remember the name?
Oh yeah, it’s just Rival Bros. It’s like a chain in Philly, but it’s good. They started selling frozen coffee slushies, and I had to make rules for myself because it was like if I was a recovering crack addict and they started selling crack on the first floor. It was so good.
What I love about an album like Simpleton is that it seems like the Ryan Kaiser of 2019, when "YKWIM?" came out ,couldn’t have made Simpleton.
You’re totally right. Back in 2018 or 2019, I would write songs where the first verse was about one thing and the second verse was about another thing entirely, and the whole song would just be this clusterfuck of me jumping from one thing to another. Then I would cope and justify it and be like, “Oh no, it’s like watching cartoons.” No, it’s just bad writing. Shut the fuck up.
Sort of a cosmic gumbo.
Exactly. But I have no regrets either because back then I was very grip-it-and-rip-it. I’d have an idea and then just make the song. There was no demo. I just made the song. There’s something cool and beautiful about capturing the spontaneity of an idea and making it as quickly as possible. It was kind of necessary at the time too because I was working and in school, so I didn’t have time to obsess over every detail. I didn’t have money for gear or plugins or instruments. With artists like iLoveMakonnen and people popping off with that fuzzy lo-fi sound, I was like, “Why should I care that I don’t have nice gear?” I love that sound personally, and it was achievable. But now there’s more that’s achievable because I have more time and I’m older.
As I get closer to 30, I don’t want to put out some song-compilation-ass album. I want to put out things that feel cohesive from start to finish and feel properly thought out. It’s crazy — you’ll work on a song for five months and think it’s completely ironed out, and then you hit an accidental note and realize it’s cooler than what you’d been doing. Really taking the time to nail these things out is what sets this one apart.
love hearing that because while a single might fade after a few months, with an album you have time to go back and fall in love. Maybe one week one song is your favorite, and then three weeks later you realize you actually love track eight more.
Yeah, discovering music on vinyl is so fun. When you don’t even know a song exists and you’re forced to listen to it because the one you like is after it, and then you end up liking that one more. It’s crazy. There are a lot of kids who are 18 or 19 coming to shows buying vinyl and CDs. I’m like, “Do you drive an old car?” But yeah, it’s climbing in the market. It’s becoming more common for kids to listen to vinyl. I don’t know if they actually appreciate it or if they just think it’s a vibe or aesthetic, but either way, I think it’s a good thing. A return to tradition. Streaming services get more annoying and evil, and people are slowly but surely going to return to physical media. Sturgill Simpson just released an album you actually have to buy if you want to hear it.
I’ll see people online complaining like, “Why are kids buying vinyl? They’re just listening to it on a Crosley portable turntable where it sounds like shit.” But my thing is — they’re buying music. They’re being intentional. I think the intentionality is key no matter what.
Crosley is a rite of passage. You’ve got to buy the Crosley. It breaks after two months, then you get the $150 Audio-Technica, then eventually the $400 one. That’s the one that sticks with you.
Speaking of tradition - I saw you recently broke this guitar and were trying to give it away.
Yes. I was laying in bed with the guitar — I know that sounds weird — and I knocked it out of bed and the back broke. I have this tradition where if anything breaks or I just get tired of it, I find someone to give it to. I don’t really like posting online asking people to give me money for stuff. I’d rather throw someone a bone, especially a younger kid. Some of the most important gear I had was just given to me by somebody who wasn’t using it anymore. My white guitar was given to me by a friend because it was sitting in his attic cracking and warping. I have this belief that certain things in life just have to show up for you. Hats are like that too. Certain things just fall into your life. I’m kind of like that with music gear, so I feel like it’s my responsibility to make some things show up in younger people’s lives too. You give them a loop station or interface or some cables, and maybe they become the next Mac DeMarco.
Listen to Simpleton below and catch Yot Club on tour!
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