Do I Actually Hate Destroyer?

I did not hate Destroyer in 2006. I first heard them when my friend Bryan put on Destroyer’s Rubies at the Philly record store he was working at. I was charmed by the swinging spirit of Dan Bejar’s combo, if less convinced by his nasal vocal affectations. I wound up calling it my 68th favorite album of the year, between Yo La Tengo and Lansing-Dreiden (yes, I used to go that deep in year-end listmaking. I was in my 20s and my roommate was on a lot of promo lists). “Referencing classics, sounding like Robyn Hitchcock hopped off on goofballs,” went my Christgau-esque honorable mention (yes, I’ve been jacking the Consumer Guide that long). And on life went for all of us.

Somewhere in the nearly twenty years since, I got a lot crankier about Destroyer. I didn’t hear every album, but when acclaim from a friend or periodical would inspire investigation, I always left wondering what the big deal was. The musical backdrops grew more elaborate and expansive, touching on sophisti-pop, synth-pop and chamber-pop. But even after I made my peace with Bejar’s Canadian compatriots in the New Pornographers (eager art-poppers I couldn’t stand in ‘00s, but won me over as an Imperial Teen surrogate by 2017’s propulsive Whiteout Conditions), Destroyer always seemed wan and nondescript, except for that voice. That reedy, quivering voice proudly delivering phrases that never once knocked me out. “Stop doing that,” I’d think when Bejar would rush out a line, or worse, savor it (no adult ever sounded prouder saying the word “shit”).

Second-guessing my frustration, I investigated Bejar‘s background, wanting to make sure I wasn’t shitting on a cultural experience that would explain the way he sighed “Times Square.” But I’m still not sure why the son of a Spaniard and an American, raised in Vancouver, would vocally resemble Katherine Hepburn enjoying someone’s liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Robyn Hitchcock was no longer evocative enough a reference point. I needed to convey just how affected, how annoying, I found Bejar’s arch accent and vibrato. He sounded like…”The Hurdy Gurdy Man.” Not Donovan, “The Hurdy Gurdy Man.”

And, for a while, “he sounds like The Hurdy Gurdy Man” was pith enough any time I felt compelled to reply-guy a rave. But this year, Destroyer received another uptick in enthusiasm, seemingly for the cheek to name their new album Dan’s Boogie. Ugh. Ironic meta crap. How irreverent, how droll, how yeargh! How is this guy still a thing? How dare someone be as charming, profound and prolific as Bejar reportedly is, and inspire so little enjoyment for me! What was I missing? Were academic adjuncts this hard up for a romantic chanteur? Do people really want to hear Jarvis Cocker LPs played at 45rpm? Grumble, grumble! Snark, snark!

Still, if a wacky warble was my primary issue with Destroyer, maybe I just needed to desensitize myself to it. So I went and played every Destroyer album in chronological order, from 1996’s We’ll Build A Golden Bridge to last month’s Dan’s Boogie, fourteen in all. I was determined to either learn to love this handsome helium huffer or have a deeper, more nuanced beef with his discography. How did this experiment in superficial submersion go? Read the listicles below to find out! (Caveat: nothing got played more than twice, hence the lack of traditional numerical assessment. I'm humble that way.)

THE FIVE DESTROYER ALBUMS I’M MOST EXCITED TO REVISIT (IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)

Streethawk: A Seduction (2001)

After a generic “lo-fi” debut and two follow-ups that showed increasing confidence, competence and Syd Barrett worship, Destroyer's fourth album is where I first got a sense of why one would have an opinion of them outside a local or stylistic scene. Bejar and the band achieve a wordy, grandiose swagger that’s “Bowie-esque,” but not rigidly so, blurring not just the breakthroughs of Hunky Dory and Aladdin Sane, but Mott The Hoople’s tangential All The Young Dudes. Like The Hoople, there’s a striking lack of arena-metal whomp to the hypothetically hard rocking, the result resembling a boisterous Belle & Sebastian more than a smarter Spacehog. 

This Night (2002)

A year and a half after Streethawk, Destroyer made their Merge debut with a completely different instrumental line-up, one that still reached for smarty-rock euphoria, but with a clumsy wallop more reminiscent of Galaxie 500 and Pavement than golden age glam. Pitchfork harrumphed at the time, and this unapologetically indulgent hour-plus of “Fillmore Jive”y, off-hand epics must have seemed real rudderless a few months after LCD Soundsystem's “Losing My Edge.” But two decades later, this ‘90s Matador fanatic couldn’t care less about such micro-generational qualms. Joyfully sticking with a fading vibe is what Canada’s for. 

Destroyer’s Rubies (2006)

Literally and spiritually splitting the difference between the Streethawk and This Night line-ups, while also adding keyboardist Ted Bois (still in the band today), Rubies might be the apex of Destroyer’s “band” era. They're no longer aping a specific period of rock history, so much as recalling a timeless cafe nightlife (be it in Canada or Europe, depending on your personal experience). A swinging, piano-graced band barrels behind a boozy bard too lively to be merely Dylanesque (though “Robyn Hitchcock hopped off on goofballs” still fits, as per my 2006 self). I’m not much for European folk-cabaret choruses, but Rubies earns its joyous, echoing “la-la-la”s.

Kaputt (2011)

Every time I tried to indulge 2011's sudden left into sophisti-pop soundscape (complete with trumpet!), I’d think about how I’ve yet to give Aztec Camera or Prefab Sprout much time, or hear a Sade album past the singles. And am I even that sold on Roxy Music’s Avalon? Don’t I prefer For Your Pleasure? But the relatively committed listening of this project made me realize Kaputt is no mere photocopy, wedding the lush implications of those synths and that trumpet to a more dance-driven, New Orderish bottom. And while a well-read dude in an untucked shirt with three buttons down, whispering “cocaine,” isn’t a personal erotic touchstone, Bejar slides into the mix better than that Paul Young karaoke freak from Future Islands.

Have We Met (2020)

It took him long enough, but a decade into dance beats, Dan Bejar finally dared a rhythmic vocal hook. More than a few! Their deployment on opener “Crimson Tide” was so surprising on first listen I laughed out loud. He's still not quite committed enough to risk crossover success, but this is the closest Bejar's come to going full Falco. 

THE FIVE DESTROYER ALBUMS THAT PISSED ME OFF THE MOST (IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)

We’ll Build Them A Golden Bridge (1996)

Actually, as derivative and immature as Destroyer's debut is, with lots of obnoxious Drag City cliche mixed in with the cheaply recorded songs, it didn’t actually piss me off. I just wanted a chance to crow that I guessed Bejar heard Syd Barrett between this album and their next, which he explicitly confirmed in a recent interview. Points for the honesty, Dan. And points for the astute observational skills, me.

Your Blues (2004)

In between This Night and Destroyer’s Rubies, Bejar and long-time collaborator John Collins decided to experiment with MIDI keyboards. Some say the lyrics are really good on this one, but you could be sharing one simple trick to make a million dollars in only twelve days and I’d still want to go full Homey The Clown on you for these presets. Whether this was arch meta madness or a sincere attempt at synth-orchestra grandeur…Tony don’t play that. And I’m glad they never did again.

Trouble In Dreams (2008)

The last “rock” Destroyer album to date, and, not coincidentally, the last committed rhythm section. I can see why they threw away the script with Kaputt, because the script was sounding familiar and forced. It was while listening to this album I decided Bejar sounded less like David Bowie, and more like the love child of David Bowie and The Laughing Gnome. 

Ken (2017)

In hindsight, I think this is the album that made me think I hated Destroyer. Lots of dramatic synth-bombast at the beginning of a track, only for Bejar to do his wheedly shtick until the song trails off, never having taken off from or transcending that opening. Whether he’s abjuring or incapable of the catchy chorus, I don’t really want to hear New Order tributes without them. The trumpet gets old, too.

Dan’s Boogie (2025)

Some might think the worst time to check out a veteran act’s new album would be right after playing every full-length they made previously, but all praise for Dan’s Boogie suggests you can never be far enough up Bejar’s ass. “Like all Destroyer records, [Boogie] is a character study,” says Pitchfork. “The character being studied is once again Bejar himself.” I try not to condemn an artist for the gasbagging of their enthusiasts, but when you find yourself baffled by an icon’s continued acclaim, it’s comforting when you see the acclaim is for being iconic. Another album of muttered poetry over (often under) sweeping sounds. Another reminder that this guy is captain sexypants for people who’d probably fuck Kevin Corrigan (would you believe Bejar once complained about the cult of personality that ignores his bandmates? He should take that up with his album covers). To be clear, I can’t throw too big a stone. Mark E Smith wasn’t much of a singer or a poet either, finding a bewitching middle ground on stage anyway. But you could compare Smith’s band-leading and vocal presence to James Brown’s. Bejar’s? Definitely not on this swanscape.

THE DESTROYER ALBUM THAT HAS ME ON THE FENCE

Poison Season (2015)

Gorgeous, gorgeous music. Strings sound great. The horns sound great. The percussion! Fantastic arrangements throughout. If I ever truly get over my annoyance with the poetryprofessortalkinglikethis before the band comes in, Poison Season is going to be a real motherfucker. Easily better than Avalon, if not “More Than This.” I worked in the Viacom Building for a few years in the ‘00s, and I know you can fall in love with Times Square. What’s up for debate is if I’ll ever fall in love with “Times Squeeaahhh.”

So do I actually hate Destroyer? No. I’d love to scream “They were born mid and they’ll die mid, just like their fans!” But Rubies, Kaputt, and This Night aren’t mid at all. Still, I haven’t remotely lost my exasperation over fans forever delighted to spend more time in the presence of that steamy, simmering, well-traveled Hurdy Gurdy Man. And I’m still going to call him that, on occasion.

If you want to bring up something other than Destroyer - I'm full, thanks! - please do so at anthonyisright at gmail dot com.