Destroyer's Rubies
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Streethawk: A Seduction
Destroyer, by the sound of their name, should
be playing death metal or something, but they are indeed a Canadian
indie rock band fronted by Dan Bejar of The
New Pornographers. His Bowie obsession is pretty evident
on this album, but so is his penchant for writing catchy tunes
that tow the line between showy and overly showy. Luckily I
love a little showmanship in my music. The biggest standout
on the album is “Sublimation Hour,” which sounds
like it could be a lost love song from some great rock ‘n’
roll opera. Bejar’s voice is one of those that isn’t
as divisive as Craig Finn’s,
for instance, but might rub some the wrong way with its plaintive
wail and slightly nasally quality at higher registers. I happen
to like his voice and think it’s unique and fits his meandering
lyrical content that is as dense as any band’s out there.
This is ultimately a very listenable album, and one of my favorites
from them. |
Thief
If cabaret weren’t self-indulgent
garbage, it would sound like this. If showtunes were rock ‘n’
roll and not fluff to get characters from one side of the stage
to other, they would sound like this. Bejar has compiled an
album of something magically showman-like and throwback to a
time where everything need not be insular and narrow. Bejar
throws the doors wide on every song daring you to knock him
down. Bejar hasn’t really gone into full-blown Bowie mode
yet on this album, as it feels a little more echoey and 70s
AM sunniness meets Canadian playhouse than glam-filled costume
drama. There are some really strong songs on here; some original
stuff that really doesn’t sound a whole lot like anything
out there. Perhaps it’s Destroyers’ flair for the
theatrical or the crazy tongue-twisting runs, but these songs
feel a lot more crafted than some 4/4 verse chorus blink-182
pop song. Not that those are bad necessarily, but this is something
akin to art, whereas that is, well, popular. |
This Night
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Trouble in Dreams
Dan Bejar is never at a loss for words. He
crams his songs full of ‘em. He packs them in tightly, makes
‘em tumble over one another in a cascade of nonsensical poetry.
But somehow it always works. This album is no exception, but
on this album in particular Bejar’s vocals and his mysterious
lyrics have been pushed to the forefront. Whereas previous albums
often pulled his vocals back just a smidge as it got layered
into lush orchestration, reverb and various vocal layers, this
one is very straightforward. That’s either a good thing or bad
thing depending on what you think of his heavily faux-accented
singing style. I don’t find this album as strong on the hook
front as say a Streethawk or Rubies, but it’s
certainly a grower. Perhaps he’s ridden that Bowie and Queen
train as far as it could go, and this is the new, stripped-down
version of the Destroyer crew? I know this is almost out of
bounds, but there are weird almost Pavement-y
flourishes of Western slackerness on tracks like "Introducing
Angels" ("Loretta’s Scars" anyone?) that I don’t recall hearing
much of on previous albums either. Overall it’s a more somber
(but not sober) album that doesn’t quite hit the crescendos
of previous efforts, but does include some nice cussing. That’s
not a negative per se, as not every album needs to be a Broadway
show effort, but it does leave it in an odd middle space (purgatory,
perhaps) that occupies neither the high highs or low lows and
therefore becomes less memorable or recommendable. |
Musical Connections:
Frog Eyes
Swan Lake
Wolf Parade
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