What’s the Deal with Dan Bejar?

I’m hesitant to go to the mats on this one, as I really enjoyed Rubies and thought at first that I was really enjoying Trouble in Dreams, too. Something has never fully clicked though, because I’ve never absorbed his catalog. Recently, Streehawk: A Seduction was referenced in a conversation about albums that sound good, like, production-wise (not in an ‘oh my gosh it’s so clean way, more in a lo-fi sheen sort of way, I’ve gathered), so I’ve been listening to that here and there. Oddly, despite enjoying Rubies a lot, and despite my willingness to listen for quality’s sake even if I’m not particularly a huge fan of the artist, I can’t make it through Streethawk. And the more I think about these things, and listen some more to try to identify what it is I’m feeling, the more annoyed I become with Dan Bejar.

I’ll get part one of my experience out of the way right off the bat: his voice has always been something I had to conquer as a listener. At times, I find his nasal tone and forays into gibberish less obnoxious than other times, and I think that the parts of his catalog that I’ve been attracted to have had more to do with brief moments of great songwriting than anything coming out of his mouth or how those words are delivered.

But I gather that this is probably the minority opinion: folks seem to be more drawn to Bejar’s poetry and irreverence. This, I think, is where I start stumbling. I am not particularly impressed with his lyrics as a whole, I don’t find him particularly imaginative in any consistently astounding way (there’s a high bar set here, which I recognize, after years of trying to understand people like Malkmus and Berman), and to be quite honest, there are moments when I really just want to tell him to lay off the pretense.

There’s another angle here, which I’m sure you’re probably more aware of than I, which is the career and productivity angle. Prolific tendencies are not always a strike against an artist, but can certainly foster a sort of exhausting entrance to a back catalog. Stepping into Bejar’s ten album long solo career is probably not unlike deciding in 2008 to check out Mark Kozelek or Will Oldham. It’s easy to take a glance and listen to a few things here or there and become bewildered: "This shit is all the same, I’ve got two albums, this will do." And I’d be the first to argue that especially in the cases of Kozelek and Oldham, one should never become exhausted: both artists produce a ton of stuff, some of it is better than the rest, but all of it is worth absorbing over time. Back to Bejar: this is the manner in which I’ve tried to do due diligence with him — trying different records from different periods of his solo work, taking a cue from my fondness for his contributions within the New Pornographers’ ensemble, and really working to appreciate a recording style and production quality (which is apparently new for Bejar as of Rubies). I’m not opposed to particularly challenging music or devotion to the absurd, but for whatever reason, I am still stumbling upon the same issue: This shit is all the same, I’ve got two albums, this will do.

Perhaps serendipitously, I read the point / counterpoint reviews of Bejar’s latest record on Cokemachineglow this morning, and found the anti-review particularly enlightening, as Conrad Armenta seems to have a really strong grasp on the problem with Bejar. And one step further, knows exactly how he wants to identify those problems in writing — something I’m still struggling to do. Most of what he says seems fair, and at a several points during my reading, I found myself nodding and thinking, "Yes, this is what bugs me" in a definitive way that I’d been unable to articulate before. This in particular struck me:

I love the use of absurdity in music, but only when it’s prefaced by an understanding of absurdity as a political and artistic tool. Absurdity implies self-awareness and perspective, but when delivered without a hint of humor, with all the boringly predictable, ostentatious, immodest artistry for which Bejar is continuously and consistently rewarded, then it’s not absurdity at all. It’s poetry without referents; phonetics and half-formed gibberish. And, ten albums along, it’s just lazy.

His entire piece is worth reading. On the other side of the fence, in David Greenwald’s generally positive review, is a reminder of my initial problem, which is something like "I don’t get this, someone explain it to me":

But like Dylan-as-songwriter ignores Dylan-as-singer (not to mention guitarist), Trouble in Dreams is an album of theatrical showmanship and musical evolution that goes far beyond parsing the meaning of Jenny falling like a ton of bricks or starving in that shit-house, the world.

So, what am I missing?

As a side note: I found this Destroyer drinking game particularly fascinating and also extremely helpful in identifying my confusion and distress over Bejar’s perceived idiosyncracis and / or brilliance.

I can’t speak for all of Bejar’s catalog since I only own Streethawk, but personally, the reason I don’t listen to it that much is simply because it’s not a great album. That’s all. Parts of it are really good, parts are even great, but some of it is just not even worth revisiting.

For example, take a song like “Streethawk I” or “Strike,” and compare it with numbing tracks like “English Music” or “Helena,” which feel tedious and vocal-screech heavy by comparison. When the music’s out front, and not Dan’s vocals and wordplay, the songs turn out better.

The fact that fan-boy music kids can’t seem to get enough of his music is also a problem. Blech. Also: “Hunky Dory.” Bowie did it first.

And as for me, I can only take Dan Bejar in small doses. Probably because I am so picky about vocals . . . his songs with the New Pornographers tend not to be my favorites. “Myriad Harbour” is okay, but still.

I love the NP but was turned off by Destroyer from the get-go.

suffice to say…

well said, flux. my sentiments echo all of yours.

Who’s in the minority now? 7 years on, Streethawk still stands firmly on my top shelf of awesome music.

If I recall, the same conversation about how good the album sounds (it’s not clean, but it’s pure…and kind of tidy?) was part of another discussion about the difficulty of talking about music.

Well, Bejar’s really hard to talk about, but I’ll say that he is funny. He’s always been funny. The drinking game is really funny. I’ll also say that he’s a poet, which gives him license to be difficult (Oldham anyone?).

10 albums on (not all of them good), and I’m not sure what Bejar is talking about, but I think it’s all part of a very larger and very elliptical discourse on war, girls, drinking, poetry, nighttime, booze and music. I’ve had a lot of fun trying to figure it out.

But I like his voice, and I like the jams, so that helps.

I haven’t picked up the new album yet, but as far as Thief, Streethawk, This Night, and Rubies go, I think they’re really solid albums. I’m not always in the mood for them, and if they’re on and I’m not in the mood it can be really grating, but when I’m in the mood for Destroyer, absolutely nothing else will do (including Bowie or Hitchcock, which he tends to lift a lot from). But if you have to try to like someone, it’s probably just not for you. I’d say cut your losses on this one, but DEFINITELY give that SM album another spin, he’s earned it and that’s album’s a grower! - Danny

P.S. Give the songs “The Temple” and “Death of the Festival Circuit” off of Thief a listen if you want to give Destroyer one more shot, to me those are really brilliant and they may plant the itch.