Destroyer - Kaputt (Merge)
I've listened to this record at least twice a week every single week since it was released which, as of this writing, was just over two months ago now. While that may not seem like an excessive number of listens, there isn't a single other 2011 record that I've returned to as often. And every time I press play, I'm expecting that listen to the be the one where I finally get tired of the thing and need to file it away for a few months. But, like many of my favorite records, I keep pulling something new that I obsess over. Today it was all about the guitar solo in "Savage Night at the Opera", just fabulous. If you've followed any of the online buzz about Bejar's latest, you're already familiar with the "cheesy soft-rock album" shorthand. Which, you know, is completely valid, but also sells Kaputt so incredibly short. Yes, there is wailing saxophone, gratuitous vocal reverb, and a general feeling that Michael Gross could star in every single track's video, but Bejar expertly weaves these into his already established strengths. You've got melodies for days, lyrics that veer between narrative fiction and surreal poetry (often within the same line), and a knack for craftsmanship that mere mortals would kill for. I mean, stripped of the cheese-rock signifiers, tracks like "Chinatown" and "Kaputt" would stand tall on any of the other Destroyer records, so it isn't like Bejar uses these effects as a crutch. It was a brave stylistic decision that could have so easily backfired and sounded like he was trying to ride some vague, faceless retro vibe. Instead Kaputt creates, like Bejar's other best pieces of work (Rubies and Streethawk), a world unto itself that sounds at once like everything you've ever heard before and like a brand new lost genre. Sure, there's more Loggins-Messina than Bowie-Bolan in these songs, but just try and deny how wonderfully executed "Song For America" and "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker" are. And that doesn't even touch on the epic closer, "Bay of Pigs", which is unlike anything else Bejar has ever done, morphing from ambient synths swirls to an eighties synth-pop floor-filler before winding up a triumphant anthem. I can't decide if this thing is the pop album of 1982, 2011, or 2034, which should tell you something about how impressive and unique it is.
(You may have noticed that recently I've been spending a lot of time talking about records from several months ago instead of newer stuff, mostly because I've resolved to write something here about all the albums I hear this year and I'm still playing catch-up. Don't worry, there are plenty of other blogs that will keep you better up to date.)
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