Destroyer

The first headline date of the premier festival of the Emilian summer, Bolognetti on the Rocks, curated by the Covo and Locomotiv clubs and sponsored by the legendary Osteria dell'Orsa; a broad and varied program, entirely free of charge as well, spanning the three hottest months of the year, which, with its aperitivo hours and DJ sets, could hardly avoid becoming the go-to backdrop for evenings out in the city.

This time it's Daniel Bejar, who brings his shock of hair and his new syntheses of pop songwriting from Canada to the medieval walls. Fifteen years on from the start of the Destroyer project, and he still has the ability to pull an album like "Kaputt" out of a hat: on that record Dan proved once and for all that he's a master of alluring craftsmanship, an artisan of a bewitching nostalgia effect that goes well beyond the slavish revivalism so fashionable of late; his '80s are not a miraculous resurrection, but a knowing update achieved through rarefied echoes, like ghosts of memory resounding in the mind over a soft beat in constant fade-in and fade-out.

The Destroyer formula wins out because it's built on songs that are catchy yet sophisticated, alongside rich and refined instrumentation: as many as eight players crowd onto the stage/marquee in Vicolo Bolognetti, and once everyone has more or less settled into place and set down their cocktail glasses, Dan opens the show with the already beloved "Chinatown", a seductive calling card that's hard to resist. As one might expect, the whole show will be centered on his latest effort, which inevitably invited comparisons between the different live renditions of the new material.

The one thing that's impossible to overlook from the very start is the vocal mix: given the soft, understated nature of his singing, Bejar remains stuck in an uncomfortable background role throughout, overshadowed by the imposing and admirable presence (not just physically) of the other instruments, especially sax and trumpet. A quick adjustment from the sound engineer wasn't enough to rebalance things, the only upside being that it preserved a sonic intensity with real impact, especially during the gorgeous instrumental interludes. The discrepancy in results is even clearer on the following "Blue Eyes", a small gem of soft atmosphere and pulsing rhythm, whose loss of the "localized" sound of the various details (like the guitars and backing vocals) recorded on the album distorts the final effect, making the interplay of the different voices feel more muddled.

Within a few songs, however, it becomes clear that it's best to accept things as they are and surrender to this new, engrossing sonic flow: whereas on the album everything found its ideal place, meticulously calibrated into a flawless, even polished, form, now the elements seem to advance in a shifting relief; in the most gripping outros, the horns take on a leading role, and within the fabric of their solos there arises a spontaneous, synesthetic sense of American downtown, of nights wandering streets lit by a surreal technicolor glow; above all, the caressing flute of "Suicide Demo for Kara Walker" stands as emblematic of the post-romantic melancholy pervading the record.

Bejar's mildly restrained stage presence is more than compensated for by a massive instrumental input, enveloping rather than overbearing, and always underpinned by impeccable songwriting built on melodic recurrences, like so many variations on a single theme. Hits such as the title track and "Savage Night At The Opera" alternate with occasional glances back at the past, sharply breaking the prevailing mood of "Kaputt" with tracks more properly filed under indie rock ("My Favorite Year", "3000 Flowers"), through which the man nonetheless regains a certain verve and a more natural rapport with his own music.

The encore, loudly demanded and eagerly awaited, goes to the album's closing track "Bay Of Pigs": despite some of the crowd's distraction, the ambient carpet that opens this magnificent song unfurls slowly; Bejar's voice is now within reach of every ear, seducing without the slightest effort and leading us into another irresistible beat that, in its thrilling crescendo, could have gone on much longer but which, just like the album itself, cuts off right at its peak. Some ten minutes, out of nearly an hour and a half, prove enough to tip an initially uncertain balance into positive territory. The evident pros and cons never dented the emotional involvement, the real key to the turn Destroyer is taking on this tour, and the crowd certainly didn't hold back in showing its appreciation.

Special thanks to Francesca Deri for her invaluable photographic contribution

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