album review: 'have we met' by destroyer

…hey, sometimes you have to go back to what works, if only for a moment.

Though that begs a fascinating question: what ‘works’ about Destroyer, the long-running Canadian singer-songwriter project of Dan Bejar? One of the most critically adored artists of the past few decades by those in the know, but I’ve seen very little discussion surrounding his work even in those circles - he nabs his year-end list positions without fail, but outside of those moments, how often does he come up? Certainly a bit more after 2011’s Kaputt achieved a bit of a minor indie breakthrough, but for as much people seemed to adore 2015’s Poison Season, 2017’s ken left many in an awkward and frustrated position, taking its dreamlike abstraction and deconstruction into sophistipop nightmares that many could never comprehend… and I can make the argument that many didn’t want to. Bejar’s clearly gone on the record that his work has always had distinctive political subtext, but it was the sort that drilled into uncomfortable territory and was most angled at artists and those who choose to identify with them. The commodification of muses on Poison Season which led to bewildered paranoia and emptiness for artist and audience alike was difficult to unpack, but ken wound up as even more direct and paradoxically misunderstood as a result: an artist observing societal trauma and recent shocks to the system in trying to find some vestige of sense outside of the bleak numbness in a decaying world. And while I made all the comparisons to Nick Cave’s ‘Higgs Boson Blues’ back then, the closer comparison dropped that same year in the subtext of Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. and everyone seemed to miss it - in chasing the dollar again in a frigid system, it becomes easier for the voices of protest to fall silent even as doom creeps closer.

But musically ken was offkilter and ominous in a way that didn’t immediately seize attention, and while it’s absolutely the sort of project that would creep under your skin and never let go if you gave it attention, many people never invested that time. And so I was going into Have We Met with a little cynicism: apparently more immediate and catchy it seemed to be attracting all the attention the last album lost, but Destroyer albums build on each other and there are consistent and repeating ideas and motifs from project to project, so what’s the newest layer that Dan Bejar has uncovered?

So here’s the funny thing: about five or six listens into Have We Met, I had the feeling that this album isn’t quite a repudiation of ken, but a naturalistic continuation with the subtext of ‘do you fucking get it now?’ Now of course is Dan Bejar and he’s always going to paint a picture that’s as much detached dream logic and abstraction, but I’d argue to appreciate this album as deeply you would have to ‘get’ many of the running motifs and themes behind ken as this plays as a sequel in anything but name. And yes, it’s also incredible, an easy standout thus far this year with striking poetry, excellently textured grooves, and an immediacy that will make this a slightly easier sit… but so many of you already knew that, and for the more interesting conversation, we need to dig deeper.

And we’re going to start with content here, and the running conceits that tend to hold true when considering Bejar’s music: his muse, often characterized as feminine, plays as large of a role on this album as ever, as does his writing surrounding his career as a whole, and for as bleak as this album gets, it’s most applicable to the larger picture in a world that’s fracturing, where little moments of emotional connection and trust showcase a deeper beauty. And while he might have been self-aware about his separation from peers and those suffering real trauma across ken - Bejar’s always been a master in constructing his public and the distance between him and them - Have We Met is looking to actively shatter that distance, and that includes his isolating steps. Look at ‘It Just Doesn’t Happen’, which takes vintage 80s soft rock pickups not that far removed from Alex Cameron to highlight how pathetic that manufactured, isolated cool can be, especially when the ideas run dry. ken likened artists to models walking the runway or disappearing the light of day… well, Have We Met shows him skidding on that runway and the blazing light of truth cutting down hotter and harder. Similar case for ‘Crimson Tide’, which sees children of privilege kill each other to find… something, and where he once had the comfort and experience to stand on the sidelines and chase an easy buck, too many shocks to the system cause a breakdown, as lightning striking twice at a funeral can cause chaos, and he’s got no choice but to stumble into that tide himself. And while he’s self-aware to a fault in seeing his own end by doing so, the decay will stick to you regardless as petty conflicts continue on a razor’s edge.

And that’s where Have We Met starts to actively pick up from ken - the last album was foreboding of what was to come, whereas the ‘now’ is far more pronounced. Old institutions fall silent, and while you might crave those older days, ‘the grand ole opry of death is breathless’ - and Bejar does not excuse himself. ‘Cue Synthesizer’ shows his fury at a collapsing world, but what has he done but contribute to it, so how else can he characterize his music beyond the idiot’s dissonant roar, the exquisite gong struck dumb, and now cue the fake instrumentation to highlight how hollow it all is. But Bejar’s not a nihilist or an all-out pessimist either, which is why that tenuous connection with anyone is framed as the most prized thing for him to cling to - to quote again, ‘a fortress of solitude’s no contest when you stare at oblivion’, so you need to bridge that gap and find… someone. So as ‘University Hill’ slides towards a gory authoritarian mess and ‘Crimson Tide’ sees everything falling apart, the poignancy comes in finding anyone to stare into the implacable together. And yet even that isn’t always realistic: ‘The Man In Black’s Blues’ has him cling to memories and grief as at least something, and ‘foolssong’ seems intensely aware of how small he feels amidst a world unknowable and increasingly absurd, with imagery of fairy tales and the apocalypse, and accepting those little beauties is the hardest thing - which might be why, for a writer who traces every barrier through words, leaves the open question of recognition on the title track with nothing to say - maybe something was found.

Now here’s the problem: for as bleak and offkey and ominous as ken was, its quiet power came from some element of uniqueness, drilling into the artistic trauma, helplessness, and the feeling of having to make something to survive out of 2017 in a way nobody else really did outside of his bandmates in The New Pornographers across Whiteout Conditions. In 2020 calls for unity facing societal collapse are not new - hell, that’s been the artistic zeitgeist the past few years, which is why while I get why this album is more immediate than ken, I’m not sure it has the same impact outside of Dan Bejar’s personal arc. But maybe that’s where the production and music makes up the difference in a big way, where there’s a touch of Kaputt’s glossy atmosphere thanks to reuniting with producer and bandmate John Collins, especially in the brighter pianos, but compositionally the melodic structures seem to owe more to ken in the darker minor keys and pulsating grooves. So the mix sounds bigger and brighter off the pulsating bass and gleaming swells, and while there’s still some of that same bone-deep chill, the grooves have a thicker melodic balance, especially in the bass and sharper guitar pickup. Hell, despite less of a band-based approach in its mixing and arrangement, you still get the solo that blasts across ‘Crimson Tide’, the excellent interplay across the glossy bounce of ‘The Raven’, the chunky funk slap of ‘Cue Synthesizer’ where there’s a frigid irony in how every call to cue an instrument goes unanswered but there’s great guitar embellishments all the same, the striking fuzzy blur of guitar and horns on the title track, to the soft-focus fuzz wrapping the plinking keys, horns, and sizzling solo on ‘foolssong’ before it opens up into one hell of a finale, a leftover from Kaputt that fits here if only for how it slips towards surrealist fear in the cloud of voices at the end. The only moments I feel are slight tonal missteps are the oddly crunchy percussion on ‘University Hill’ and the downtempo shift into darkened gurgles on ‘Kinda Dark’, but that might be more out of sequencing than anything else.

But as a whole… yeah, Destroyer delivered yet again with an album as timely and potent as ever, perhaps a little less subtly devastating than ken or not quite nailing the heartbreaking moments that define Poison Season - ‘Girl In A Sling’ is still probably his best song this decade - but a project I like more with every listen and with better hooks might wind up sticking even more deeply. As such, you probably don’t need to hear another critic heap praise on this already, but it’s a 9/10 and the highest of my recommendations. Folks, when an album is this great and demands the conversation, you should hear it - make that connection, check this out.