Destroyer: Kaputt

Destroyer
Kaputt
Rating: Meh

One of the more interesting things about music to me, is how endlessly subjective it all is. One artist may be a treasure to some, and then a big pile of trash for the other. It is almost impossible to quantify or even explain why some music is more appealing to one's ears than another. My only objective explanation is that "I just know I like it." Which is why sometimes I am just befuddled when a majority of critics fawn over an album or artist that I just can't get behind. In recent years, I have shaken my head over Panda Bear's Person Pitch, Fleet Foxes' Fleet Foxes, or any album from The New Pornographers. Their music just doesn't speak to me in any meaningful way. Now, we turn to the latest object of critic's affections, Destroyer's Kaputt. My first warning should have been that Destroyer's main man, Daniel Bejar, is a member of New Pornographers, which I have never been able to like. However, based on the drooling, glowing reviews of the album, I knew I had to at least give it a chance.

Kaputt has an interesting theory behind it; it pulls from a period of music (late 70s and early 80s lite rock) that is generally looked at now with disdain. Drawing from a Steely Dan, overproduced and slick, production aesthetic, with stops along the way to Ambrosia, Pablo Cruise, Toto, and even Avalon era Roxy Music, Kaputt is buffed and shined within an inch of its life. Lite disco beats, lightly flanged guitars, crisp synthesizers, and an ever present bank of syrupy saxophones and horns, blankets these 9 tracks with a chilly, antiseptic air. There just doesn't seem to be much emotion for me to hang my hat on, to pull me into the music. Much has been written about Bejar's witty lyrics, but I found them to be borderline insipid. He has none of the charm, or world-weary insouciance of a Jarvis Cocker, Brett Anderson, or Bryan Ferry, which would have gone a long way in making a more definitive statement.

Initially, I was really looking forward to this album based on the first single and title track "Kaputt."



It is the one track on the album that meets up to the hype of the record; where the lux sheen of the production, matched with an atypically muted vocal turn from Bejar, strikes a perfect balance. Where the album falters is its almost endless monotone layering. Too many of the tracks drift off into the ether, leaving no impression whatsoever. Not until the final track, the epic 11 minute "Bay Of Pigs (Detail)" does any real variation occur, and is a striking jewel. If Bejar had added more variety like this within the album, it would have created a more distinctive record.



The remainder of the album, aside from these tracks, and perhaps one more song, are just syrupy messes, full of banal melodies and production tricks, and Bejar's irritatingly fey warble. Lead track "Chinatown" is probably the worst offender; sounding like a horrific mashup of Air Supply and Kenny G.



Or "Savage Night At The Opera," which glides endlessly on a soft rock bed of cooing synths, fretless bass, tinny drum machines, and Bejar's silly attempts to sound like a bored, coked out Lothario. It all goes completely off the rails with a completely unnecessary guitar solo.



When Bejar actually comes out from behind all the high-tech production sheen and puts some emotion into a song, the results can be dazzling. I was initially intrigued by the ambient intro to "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker," which feels like a fevered dream; of course, Bejar chooses to ruin the mood with a flute motif straight out of some Zamfir mixtape.



Instead of taking this approach and adding some depth or texture to the tracks would have gone a long way, at least with me, in breaking up a very one note sounding album. Kaputt is like a lemon pie made up solely of meringue; lovely and soft, but insubstantial and unsatisfying as a main course. I know I will be pilloried for being seemingly the only person in the world who is not loving and fawning over this album, but I have to stand by my gut instinct. I will have to file this album alongside the Panda Bears and Fleet Foxes; records that are beloved by others, but just leave me with a big "huh" look on my face.

Rating Guide

Chilfos: masterpiece; coolest thing I've heard in ages.

Woof Daddy: excellent; just a hair away from being a masterpiece.

Grrrr: very good; will definitely be considered for my top albums of the year.

Yeah Daddy Make Me Want It: good; definitely invites further listens and peaks one's interest for more material.

Meh: not horrible, but certainly not great; could have either been trimmed or polished.

Jeez Lady: what the hell happened? Just plain bad. They should hang their heads in shame and be forced to listen to Lady Gaga ad nauseam as penance.

Tragicistani: so bad, armed villagers with pitchforks and torches should run the artist out of the country for inflicting this abomination on the human race.