Destroyer:Kaputt

8.3 / 10 dropps
Merge; 2011

The reason Dan Bejar’s musical project Destroyer can be so easily accessible to some listeners is the same reason why it could possibly turn others off: it’s complex stuff. The first time I heard the catchy, nasally, off-beat, Spanish-influenced guitar intro to Bejar’s 2006 release Destroyer’s Rubies, I was simultaneously annoyed and enamored. The case is not much different on 2011’s Kaputt.

There is a smorgasbord of sound influence on this album ranging from jazz, to blues, to
flamenco, to funk, to pop, to ambient-electronica, to a bevy of other ambiguous genres. It’s that type of complexity that can be so enticing and alienating at the same time. On one hand, the album is ever-changing – it is disorderly (“Blue Eyes” goes from rock, to Miles Davis-era jazz, to soulful funk in less than a minute), and on the other hand, it feels controlled, as if Bejar’s got the reins and all you need to do is lay back and let it wash over you.

Kaputt’s musical bravery comes through on its daring way of tackling multiple genres in
one take. Whether it’s the Kenny G-style saxophones of “Chinatown,” the disco pop of “Savage Night at the Opera,” or the moody synths of the 11-minute closer “Bay of Pigs,” you certainly won’t be left wanting more variety. Some of Bejar’s riskier endeavors (the Kenny G saxes come to mind) can come off as trite and contrived.

There are some issues with consistency on the album, too. When Bejar re-introduces us
to the popular “Bay of Pigs” track from his 12” EP released just last year, it’s a clunky maneuver that doesn’t fit with the overall Kaputt motif. Bejar’s decision to slap the track on the full-length seems more a financial decision than one aimed at creating a harmonious record. At other times, the saxophones, trumpets, and flutes which make up the jazzier sections of Kaputt have such a sultry, sexual appeal to them that it almost feels laughable, like you’re listening to the soundtrack of bad 70’s porn. But moments like those can be forgiven because he masterfully mixes and matches them so well with other genres that they breach banality and reach a point of witty composition.

The tracks on Kaputt are clever, funny, and varied, and the lyrics run in the same vein.
On paper, Bejar’s lyrics look like poetry. On “Bay of Pigs,” Bejar singles himself out when he says, “Listen, I’ve been drinking.” This tactic of giving himself a particular persona is one example of how he’s not just a musician but a writer, too. He isn’t afraid to insert facets of himself into the music, as he puts on many faces throughout the album.

Poetry is part of his lyrics while humor is another. It’s a subtle, not laugh-out-loud sort of
funny, but it’s there. He implicates himself on “Blue Eyes” when he says, “I write poetry for myself / I write poetry for myself,” suggesting he’s not much of a poet for the masses. Bejar even references one of the songs from the same album when he says, “I wrote a song for America / Who knew?” on the title track “Kaputt.” He also makes many modern pop references. He calls out the British online magazine NME by name, he talks about drugs ranging from cocaine to “Mary Jane,” and he devotes an entire song to the modern-day African-American artist Kara Walker on “Suicide Demo for Kara Walker.” It’s not all supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, but it feels playful, and that’s what gives this intricate album its strong sense of control.

There’s a lot to digest with Kaputt, and it’s not all necessarily food for thought. Some of
what Kaputt is, is just that: kaput. It’s not all supposed to be meant as deep insight or an analogy to modern social issues. Much of the material on the album can be taken as a simple musical treat. But still, there seems to be something else lying deep under the surface. Whether as a subtle joke, satire, or nothing at all, there are plenty of moments on this album that hint at something deeper and more intrinsic in modern human behavior.

-Robert Miller