Review: Destroyer- Kaputt

After listening to Kaputt by Destroyer, one may wonder why the creative force behind the act, Dan Bejer, refers to it as Destroyer. It's a pretty harsh moniker for music that is anything but, at least as far as Kaputt is concerned. Admittedly the career of Destroyer has seen many twists and turns and delved, at times rekclessly and aimlessly into many aesthetics and tones. The musical make up of Kaputt, while not the first time adventured by Bejer, is a recent development. It is breed from familarity, yet at the same time crafted in away that seems positively unique. Bejer, with the help of vocalist Sibel Thrasher, have made an expertly constructed and beautifully performed piece of work here; one that is refreshingly devoid of the cynicism that has crystallized like an impenetrable husk over the genres and stylings that Bejer draws inspiration from.

Part of why Kaputt works so well is it is propelled by a very clear sense of direction and well defined structure. At its core Kaputt employs a contemporary version of inoffensive smooth jazz that was more or less rendered obsolete by the early 90s. It's really a shock to hear it resurrected so casually and successfully in this collection. However the peripheries, or casing of these songs are comprised of modern hi fidelity indie pop and slightly dreary 80s new wave. Much of the bass is reminiscent of The Cure and Joy Division. Each element is applied pretty liberally on top of the aforementioned jazz center, maybe even heavy handedly at times. But both aspects are balanced admirably so the album manages to avoid any blase synth malaise that tarnished the 80s somewhat, nor does it seem to fall between the cracks of countless other fusion upstart groups. But then why would it?- as Destroyer, this is Bejer's 9^th album; he was honing his craft when the barren existentilism of the 80s was still considered modern and inovative in the early 90s. Again, these facets really are just ancillary to the core of Kaputt which is constructed from more orchestral and classical instruments. Flute, clarinet, saxophone, and trumpet, and bass- in it's diminutive way- make up the backbone here. But they aren't all employed in tandem or conjunction, rather sprinkled sporadically throughout the songs, with only occasional intermingling of all the instruments. “Suicide Note for Kara...” provides a perfect example of this as throughout the 8 minute track the central instrument keeps shifting; kind of like Mike Oldfield only not as jarringly mind bending and alienating. The shifting in arrangements here seem much more natural and unobtrusive. As a result, while the overall aesthetic is consistently orchestral jazz, the specifics and details are varied and even spontaneous. The music carries a sort of aged and eloquent wisdom to it, developing into a reassuring sense of warmth and comfort. For someone who was recently trumpeting the merits of the bizarre and slightly unsettling stylings of acts like Caribou, it's nice to be reminded of the joys one finds at the opposite end of the spectrum.

Vocally Destroyer, as sung by Bejer but also with the help of Sibel Thrasher, seems reminiscent of the interplay from the duo in Stars- if one is seeking a comparison. But then, as Destroyer has been on the scene longer, perhaps that description should be reversed. Bejer's voice is acutely sharp, maybe even a touch stale at times. This is a somewhat unsophisticated, albeit more helpful means of describing his voice. While his voice carries a seasoned sophistication to it, it at times comes off as pretentious and shrill and extended exposure leads to a bit of tedium; this seems to be the case in parts of “Bay of Pigs (detail)”. This is why Thrasher's voice is such a welcome addition. Her voice is miniscule but rich and lush. She only pops in and out of the songs at sporadic and seemingly randomized times. This is immediately noticeable in the opener “Chinatown”. She unexpectedly emerges but gives no indication of when or how she will depart from the song. It's as if the meeting of the two voices is a chance encounter to be cherished. Think of the interplay between Jack White and Alison Mosshart's vocals in the Dead Weather. This is the exact opposite. They were anxiously confrontational and even combative (which was really cool, mind you!). Here Bejer and Thrasher seem to leisurely enjoy each others company. I wish Thrasher had a more defined role and contributed more to the songs as if they were duets. Instead she is more of an ambiguous presence, a spectre. At times you don't even notice she has entered or exited the melody, only directly aware of her presence in the moment. But considering the spontaneity that is synonymous with jazz, a I certainly appreciate the decision to give her a less defined and more improvisational role here. Her contribution to “Blue Eyes” is particularly poignant. As the two perform in tandem, Bejer is restrained and reflective, where as Thrasher seems more frantically emotive.

Lyrically Kaputt seems to be about misplaced nostalgia, or over sentimentalizing the past. Bejer remembers being a hopeless romantic, but he was 20; and it was 1992. With a hazy and unfocused memorial of his youth, Bejer seems obstructed from the memories he's searching for. Instead he's grasping at straws and clinging to what ever he can recollect, trying to contextualize through a positive lens. In “Kaputt” he remembers “chasing cocaine to the backrooms of the word all night” Is that something you really want to lovingly recall or relive? It's not as if he is recalling these in a decidedly jubilant tone, but when it's coupled with the music sounding the way it does, it implies an inescapable connotation. But Bejer seems reluctant, afraid, or even unable to look to the future, as if he was perversely convinced himself there is nothing for him there. So he recedes into his memories. His past is in “Downtown” and in “Chinatown”. As he says “I can't walk away, you can't walk away”. Bejer is aware of his destructively backwards attitude as he alludes, “enter through the exit, and exits through the entrance”. Its intriguing that parts of some of the songs are peppered with lyrical references to New York; a city that is so often eulogized for its seedy, glorious past and then mourned for its comparatively bland present. Depressing though it may be, it creates an engaging dichotomy. The way the enveloping warmth of the music and his nostalgia is stalked by the haunting presence of whatever is next- even if nothing is what's next.

Kaputt is an interesting blend of many things. Comfort, nostalgia, even unbridled pleasantries. But it's also disheartening, remorseful, and maybe a little afraid of itself. Yet these disparate characteristics manage to build from each other rather than tearing apart the logic of the album. In the end they help create something more grand and explorative than something more straightforward or benin ever could have. This is mirrored in the genuinely imaginative retooling and synthesizing of jazz, blues, orchestra, and pop both new and old. It's not quite like anything else, and yet it seems like a better example of so many things we've grown familiar with. That it engages the listener on so many ways makes Kaputt worth repeated listenings.