album #50

destroyer's rubies (destroyer)

This album is an old favorite. It hit me at the right time, a point of my life where I was extremely hungry for and receptive to a good, cool album, especially from something from the New Pornographers universe. This is the first Destroyer record I owned- I remember buying it from a cool record store in Soho, now a realtor's- and I've always thought of it as the gold standard. It's everything I expect from Destroyer- rambling, literate epics, hushed dissertations on manners, spectacular power riffs, plenty of ba-ba-ba la-la-la's, and a few songs I spent endless nights singing along with.

One thing I'm just now realizing, as I listen to “Rubies,” is how this must be what it feels to be a Dylan fan- Dan's strengths and quirks line up somewhat with Bob's. Dylan is obviously legend but I haven't always loved him, yet my ear is pretty warmly tuned to Destroyer. I suppose I leave his excesses behind, there's just so much left that I'm into- lots of elegant melody lines and powerful surges of guitar noise and well-earned personal connotations.

“Rubies” is one of my favorite ten-minute songs (right up there with “Marquee Moon,” “Jungleland” and the current leader, “Station To Station.”) I love the journey the song takes, and it's particularly poignant when it lands on just one fragile guitar in a quiet room.

“Your Blood” is an amble I've loved since the day I heard it; “European Oils” is a giant, my head bobbing from the first theatrical downward march of the piano, a heavy European blues journey that hits one of my favorite lyrics- “in love and war, I insist on slaughter/ and getting it on with the hangman's daughter/ she needs release, she needs to feel at peace/ with her father, the fucking maniac”- and there lands a searing riff that I've sung along with for years. And the guitar, the piano, the lyrics, all slamming in rhythm as they drown in the storm- or collapse in the barroom dance hall- just a magnificent number.

“Painter In Your Pocket” is one of my favorite songs ever; Katie and I have always bonded over it. A sad and thoughtful beauty, it moves like a submarine, you can feel the pressure of the ocean against the steel of the song, and every now and then breaks a glowing hint of pure pink perfection, a sweetly sad riff to which I'm entirely devoted. When that melody takes over in the second half- man oh man.

“3000 Flowers” rocks, searing energy from start to finish. The end of the song especially is a magnificent “push the pedal, sing along loud” slice of my youth. The rest of the album is largely blues numbers, intricate rambling jams. I haven't always loved 'em, but they're pretty solid, and I give them more listens and more leeway than I do most 'B' songs.

I wonder now how important it is to listen to an album alone in your car, when it comes to determining the music one loves most. Generally speaking, I hold residual devotion for most of the music I've listened to in my car; there are other bands and albums I've loved more in the years since, and yet I can't break the feeling that I'd love those albums even more if I'd heard them in my car. The most obvious factor is, everytime I drove, I was in a dreamy vacation environment, a nostalgia safari, and my poignancy radar was tuned so high that everything generated meaning instantaneously. If I continued to drive in my daily life- if I continued to experience most music in my car, I wonder how the effect would differ. It would be weaker, that's pretty much for sure.