The Post-Rockist

Dark Leaves Form a Thread

Foam Hands

From Trouble in Dreams

In an attempt to be original and awesome, I was thinking of writing an entire review of Destroyer’s newest, Trouble in Dreams, without mentioning any of the lyrics. I was thinking about exploring other topics that might be interesting to Dan Bejar-o-philes, such as the difference between singing and speaking in Destroyer’s songs (I’ve been designing several charts and graphics using Powerpoint to reveal this difference visually for every song on Trouble in Dreams). Or perhaps I could’ve written an essay about how Dan Bejar does not sound anything like David Bowie at all, contrary to popular blog-belief. I was going to describe the continuously building melodies on “Dark Leaves Form a Thread” and explain guitarist Nicholas Bragg’s vertiginous melodic maneuverings by using a Hilbert Curve as a wicked rad metaphor. I was even thinking of just writing about how Dan Bejar’s hair has gotten totally out of control.

And at 3am Sunday morning, on a drunken, pizza-devouring tear, I had the brilliant idea of defining the new Destroyer album by comparing and contrasting it with an episode of The Cosby Show I was watching (the one where Denise chooses which college she’s going to attend), and I have several illegible, pizza-stained notes to prove it.

Ultimately, I just wanted to do something different, something that every other music critic out there hasn’t tried, especially with Destroyer, since critics tend to write a dissertation on each album instead of a review, parsing lines like they were back in their upper-level poetry class in college.

But the main reason that I wanted to do something different is because Destroyer’s music and Dan Bejar’s lyrics and singing have pretty much become the most important music, lyrics, and singing in my life over the past eight months or so, when a friend burned a copy of Rubies for me. I’ve listened to that album well over 200 times and even gave it a listen today in my car.

Lately, I’ve even taken to singing like Dan Bejar at my local Detroit karaoke bars. I tried this for the first time a month ago and reviews were mixed. It really works on some songs, but not others. For example, my Dan Bejar-izations killed when singing The Beatles’ “Hey Bulldog.” On the other hand, it did not work on Dean Martin’s “Memories Are Made of This.” Not at all. Also, for the past two months, I’ve been following my girlfriend around, hissing “FOAM HANDS!” at her at awkward moments, shoving my open palms toward her face. Just listen to the track, above, to imagine the misery I’ve put her through, poor girl. I do this often, and sometimes unconsciously and at inopportune times: during long car rides, at fancy restaurants, funerals, etc. And yeah, my impersonation is a caricature, but it’s done out of love and respect for the music. For the words.

And so when it comes down to it, I have to write about the words. They fill my soul. They make me feel cool and even a bit…sassy? They wrench my heart. They invigorate my mind. Dan Bejar is my T.S. Eliot. So be it.

(Photo credit: Kirstiecat)

Besides, how can you not focus on the words when Bejar begins the album with an argument over words?! The hyperactive “Dueling Cyclones Jackknife…” opening of Rubies is replaced by a soft, acoustic-strummed rhythm and a concession: “Ok, fine, even the sky looks like wine.” The song, “Blue Flower/Blue Flame,” choruses with the line “A woman by another name is not a woman.” I have no idea what that means. But Bejar explains very clearly: “I’ll tell you what I mean by that. Maybe not in seconds flat, maybe never.” Oh. Ok. Fine. Getting the meaning exactly right is impossible and unnecessary and unfun anyway. The trick is to feel the meaning out, to grope for it, or something like that. There’s no key or exact science–just the curmudgeonly poet/songwriter, sitting there writing with a nearly empty bottle of wine on the table, not giving anything away.

If “Blue Flower/Blue Flame” leaves us confused but sedate, “Dark Leaves Form a Thread” gives us the adrenaline burst we need to enter the rest of the album vigorously. It’s the looseness of Destroyer’s songs that allow Dan Bejar to fit so many words into so many three-and-a-half minute songs (this is the only really comparable trait between Bejar and Dylan), but the structure of “Dark Leaves” is packed very tightly and moves quickly, constantly picking up sound and (it seems to me) speed. It could be Destroyer’s most perfect song, and both the musical energy and Bejar’s singing are accomplished with such verve that it’s impossible not to become completely enraptured. And it’s impossible not to think of the album cover when listening to a growling Bejar calling out:

“So, if you should want me,
you can find me down at the café
A little bit too busy being served,
Sworn enemy of the waitresses there.”

Two longer songs, the excellent “My Favorite Year” and the brooding “Shooting Rockets (From the Desk of Night’s Ape)”, take up the middle of the album. “My Favorite Year” is an adrenaline rush on par with “Dark Leaves,” with similarly winding, repeating guitar lines. “Shooting Rockets” is easily the most skipable track on the album, but somehow I always listen to it all the way through–all 8 minutes! How can I not with lines like “The endless groves wherein my soul pukes the night away,” “Praise be those alabaster hands running amok on your body,” and, the best, “I’ve got street despair carved into my heart.” And these lines sit here on this monitor of yours and you’re reading them, but you’ve got to hear the way he sings them! The excellence of these words are heightened only by Bejar’s inflections–the way he moans and purrs them.

This poetic magnum opus is followed by one of the album’s shortest and simplest songs, “Introducing Angels,” which begins with one of Bejar’s most touching (and shortest) opening lines: “Common scars brought us together.” “Rivers” is the album’s most hummable and traditionally written pop song, and likely to be a favorite on his current tour of the US and Canada. “Leopard of Honour” is another one of those Destroyer songs where you have no idea what it is he’s actually singing about but you’ll can’t stop listening. “Plaza Trinidad” is the most Bejar-like sung song on the album–I’m pretty sure it’s the only recording I’ve heard where Dan Bejar’s singing out-Bejars my impersonation of Dan Bejar’s singing. It’s the most hyperactive song on the album, perhaps the weirdest, and definitely one of the highlights.

So I’ve done my best to give you my overall impressions of the album, but I feel that I have to end by answering the question that a critic would normally ask and a reader would wonder: Is Trouble in Dreams as good as Rubies? My answer: Is peanut butter better than jelly? Are the starry skies more beautiful than the full moon? Is Theo a more endearing Cosby kid than Rudy? Well, some may prefer one over the other, but the fact is that life is better with both. At least my life, anyway, a fact that I’ll be putting out there for all to witness when I use my Dan Bejar impersonation to interpret Devo’s “Whip It” and Neil Diamond’s “Girl You’ll Be A Woman Soon” at the old karaoke bar this weekend.

Lucky you, Detroit.