Destroyer’s new album Kaput was released this past January to much indie music lover fanfare. The album in question does not disappoint as Dan Bejar’s intimate lyrics feel like a genuine admission of his vices without the self-pity and judgement so revolting to those still on the scene.

Rather, Bejar’s frank lyrics and confessional tone on the album title track feel as if he’s reminiscing with you about a late night you had involving copious amounts of nonsense. You can chuckle about how ridiculous you were, now that’s it’s done, while you both secretly long for parties that begin and end in complete debauchery. Self-awareness is the new black and Bejar encapsulates it without the self-righteousness that makes it intolerable in many.

Wasting your days, chasing some girls, alright, chasing cocaine through the backrooms of the world, all night.

And the reminiscing doesn’t stop there. Really the entire album is reminiscent of some other decade’s indulgence. It reminded me of riding around with my mother in her gold Ponitac Grand Am while Kenny G’s Song Bird put me into an easy-listening-induced trance.

The saxophone and horns on the new album are relentless throughout and the effect is one of unexpected brilliance. Take something scorned by the mainstream populace and make it overwhelmingly amazing — hipsters everywhere are wetting themselves. Such is the result of Destroyer’s Kaput on soft rock and jazz (which in it’s straightforward form makes me throw up a little in my mouth).

The only issue I take with Destroyer’s new album is that my partner and I listened to it so persistently when it was first released that I almost turned myself from it. Destroyer became the go to album for every task. Painting my office, turn on Destroyer. Cooking dinner, turn on Destroyer. Shovelling the driveway, you guessed it: Destroyer. Destroyer. Destroyer.

Though I take full responsibility in this, as over-indulging will turn any sweet thing sour. Which is, in essence, at the heart of Kaput. Regardless, I have no doubt that Dan Bejar’s eighties-inspired lyrical masterpiece will be on my iPod for ages. You should put it on yours.

P.S. Be sure to look forward to hipsters drop-kicking each other for tickets when this album goes on tour. It’s going to be a gong show in Montreal.