In everyday language, a boogie refers to a dance or an occasion to dance. However, this being a Destroyer album and not bound by the common tongue, the title Dan’s Boogie carries deeper, more alluring, and dangerous connotations. “A boogie is a hustle, a scam that doesn’t quite work—the moves we make when we’re up against it,” explains Dan Bejar. “I think of spy work, double agents, sleeping with one eye open, and keeping an eye on the exits. But I also think of petty, street-level victories and losses, and improv.” To record Dan’s Boogie, Bejar had to navigate a series of intentional and unintentional barriers. Initially, he challenged himself not to write songs, letting ideas build up until they breached containment. The months following the completion of LABYRINTHITIS stretched into one year, then two. At that point, Bejar resolved to play the piano every day for an hour—a resolution that lasted about four days. Despite this short-lived routine, it sparked the creation of tracks like “Cataract Time,” “Hydroplaning Off the Edge of the World,” “Bologna,” and “Dan’s Boogie.” These songs stand as some of Destroyer’s finest, encompassing the vast spectrum Bejar and his collaborators have mastered: spectacle-laden pop epics, intimate piano ballads, and smoldering, mood-driven pieces that blur the lines between song, novel, and cinema. Each song brims with the urgency of a state secret in the mind of a tortured spy. The lead single, “Bologna,” takes this energy in a radical new direction. For the first time, Bejar envisioned himself as a supporting character. Leading the track is Fiver’s Simone Schmidt, whose tough, expressive voice pierces through the murk of the scene like a siren’s call, haunting the album. Schmidt’s gravity shapes Dan’s Boogie around a sense of impending doom, much like the promise of ecstasy and danger that drives the principal character of an erotic thriller. “Hydroplaning Off the Edge of the World” exemplifies contradiction: a peppy, almost festive tune born from Bejar’s intentional self-sabotage. Its holiday cheer contrasts sharply with the angst in its lyrics, which sink in gently—until the song veers off the road. “We are now entering a new phase,” Bejar intones, as layers of guitar and synthesizer darken the palette, alternating between singing and speaking. Contradictions define much of Dan’s Boogie. The swirling fog surrounding Bejar is illuminated by friction between competing truths and tastes, such as when his fascination with jazzy ballads collides with producer and bassist John Collins’ interests in bands like Led Zeppelin and Scritti Politti. When Bejar mentioned Sammy Davis Jr. as an inspiration, the title track took shape. It features Bejar adopting a Rat Pack swagger with almost delusional glee, set against a dreamy backdrop of soaring guitars, lush horns, jazz drumming, spaced-out synths, and, perhaps most true to Bejar’s essence, plinking lounge piano. The centerpiece of the album, “Cataract Time,” is an eight-minute epic showcasing some of Bejar’s heaviest lyrics and most intricate compositions. Carried by an easygoing groove, Bejar’s lyrics transform melancholy into something that paradoxically tastes like hope. The song trades Destroyer’s usual urban fables for bracing introspection, while its lilting groove hints at a brighter future—a future Bejar and his band seem eager to embrace. Where previous Destroyer albums were locked in combat with the world, Dan’s Boogie dances with it. Its nine tracks coalesce into one long hustle. While Bejar’s eye may be on the exits, he’s not leaving anytime soon.
