RIP, Vyto B

I take some pride in knowing that my work helped expand the public's knowledge of Vyto B. [READER]( On Tuesday I received the news that Chicagoan Vyto Beleska died. I'd known Vyto by the eccentric music he recorded decades before my birth under the name [Vyto B](. His self-released recordings, particularly his 1976 sci-fi opus, Tricentennial 2076, earned Vyto a loyal cult following of indeterminate size. I became such a fanatic more than a decade ago thanks in part to Vyto's whimsical, heart-on-sleeve acoustic ballad ["Electronic Enforcer,"]( a song I'd often include on mixes for friends in a transparent attempt to get my friends equally obsessed with Vyto. My fondness for Vyto never waned over the years. When Edward Anderson told me he cut a collaborative album with Vyto and planned to release it through his label, Sanzimat International, I saw an opportunity to not only share my longtime interest in an oddball, but get a better sense of his story. Vyto didn't want to talk to me, but several of his friends and admirers did; through those conversations, the idea I had of Vyto became more complex and multi-dimensional, which enhanced the wondrous qualities I'd long loved about his music. [The Reader ran my deep dive on Vyto and his work with Edward in November 2019.]( It wasn't the first story about Vyto, and not even the first about Vyto for the Reader. My colleague Steve Krakow put together a terrific history of Vyto B for [Secret History of Chicago Music]( in 2013, and it was one of the few reported pieces about Vyto I could find while researching my story. And I take some pride in knowing that my work helped expand the public's knowledge of Vyto B while simultaneously arguing for people outside his cult audience to acknowledge the importance of his work. My editor, Philip Montoro, [broke the news of Vyto's death]( on Twitter. A [couple]( [blogs]( picked up the story, and both linked back to my feature on Vyto. It doesn't alleviate my sadness about Vyto's passing, but it is nice to know that my work can still show the public (and people outside the Reader's audience) why a musician who has long enchanted me matters—and what mattered to him. I've been thinking a lot about the importance of doing this work—and having the space, time, and infrastructural support to do this work. It takes a lot of labor to publish these stories—not just mine, but those of all my coworkers and freelance contributors. And all our stories are distinctive. Rarely do I walk away from reading a Reader investigative piece or critical essay thinking I could find it in any other publication. And I hope you notice that too. [Now that we're a nonprofit newsroom, you can help us expand the work we do by donating today.]( Thank you, as always, for reading. Sincerely, Celebrate with us! Your to-do list for today: - Read the [special message]( from our co-publishers. - Make a [donation]( - Relax on your couch, knowing you helped a storied, 50-year-old institution earn back half a million dollars. - Eat a slice of pizza. Treat yourself . . . You deserve it! - ["Why Saba thinks hip-hop should be taught in college and how it feels to come home,"]( by Alejandro Hernandez (WBEZ) - ["This Was Always a Holy War,"]( by Talia Lavin (The Sword and the Sandwich) - Psychic Mirrors, [Ophilia]( - Croatian Amor, [Remember Rainbow Bridge]( - Rew, [Quiet All the Time]( - Hey, ily!, [Psychokinetic Love Songs]( [He’s just not that into you]( Chicago Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well deals with the messiness of unrequited love. by [Catey Sullivan]( [My old Kentucky home]( Gift’s production of At the Vanishing Point illustrates the appeal and pitfalls of nostalgia. by [Dmitry Samarov]( [Brothers on the run]( Last Hermanos at A Red Orchid doesn’t quite gel as a socio-psychological thriller. by [Catey Sullivan]( [Issue of April 28 - May 11, 2022 Vol. 51, No.]( [Download Issue]( [View this e-mail as a web page]( [@chicago_reader]( [/chicagoreader]( [@chicago_reader]( [Chicago Reader on LinkedIn]( [/chicagoreader]( [chicagoreader.com]( [Forward this e-mail to a friend](. Want to change how you receive these e-mails? You can [update your preferences]( or [unsubscribe from this list](. Copyright © 2022 Chicago Reader, All rights reserved. Our mailing address is: Chicago Reader, 2930 S. Michigan Ave., Suite 102, Chicago, IL 60616