Review

The steward of the peculiar returns — a little bit prouder, a little perverse
Once more now into the mind of Dan Bejar, where nothing worth saying isn't worth saying twice, and where a flower — particularly a blue one — is never just a flower. With both his work in Destroyer as well as his fistful of contributions to the New Pornographers, Bejar has carved a niche for himself as the willful steward of the peculiar. Beginning with 2002's marvelous This Night, he's crafted records that are gleefully labyrinthine, beholden to little beyond their own particular logic. Songs reference themselves, reference older Destroyer songs, reference songs by other people entirely. A punnier writer might say Bejar never meta-text he didn't like.

He took this m.o. to its zenith two years ago with Destroyer's Rubies, a loose, ambling record whose wiseacre lyrics served as a kind of tribute to/epitaph for the American indie rock underground. It was a canny move: a self-referential record about a scene that had raised self-reference to an art form, Rubies quoted classic rock and crumbling fanzines with equal aplomb.

It should be said that Bejar's latest, Trouble in Dreams, is neither as surprising or far-reaching as its predecessor. Instead, it's a limber — if slighter — sequel, taking the original's musical themes and reworking them. The first two words on Trouble are "OK, fine," and the rest of the record could well be subtitled: "Once more, with feeling." Bejar has found his musical niche; most of Trouble inverts classic rock in many of the same ways Rubies did. "Dark Leaves Form a Thread," an early high, chucks a single guitar lick down the stairs over and over and over. "My Favorite Year" obscures girl group da-da-da's behind a squall of guitar, Bejar rattling off lyrics as if he's afraid he won't get them all out in time.

Trouble may lack Rubies' through-narrative, but its short stories are still pretty good. "Introducing Angels" is slow and lovely, as close to a love song as Bejar has ever written. "Common scars brought us together," he sings, gentle acoustic guitar swaying behind him. "Shooting Rockets," Bejar's one clear moment of self-reference is stretched out to epic length, peaking with doomy spirals of piano as Bejar wryly opines "A chorus is a thing that bears repeating." The song arrives at the center of Trouble like a black tornado, a sudden, welcome reminder that Bejar as usual is still pretty unusual.