Dan Bejar hasn’t left us wanting since the release of 2008′s underrated Trouble in Dreams. The chief Destroyer embarked on a solo tour this spring, released the epic Bay of Pigs EP, and in an October solo show in Montreal, debuted another new track — the surprisingly personal “Chinatown.”
“This is a song I wrote about where I live,” Dan notes, a rare admission from a lyricist whose works are usually labyrinthine enough for minotaurs. And the look into his private world isn’t a pretty one: “I drink my wine from a porcelain cup / I fall down!” he growls at the song’s climax, continuing, “I know you and I know the score / I can’t walk away / you can’t walk away.” Is Bejar growing transparent as his career lengthens? Hard to say: “So that was a protest song,” he deadpans at the performance’s conclusion. Well, as long as it’s not about Roman Polanski.
Christopher R. Weingarten of hero-Twitter @1000timesyes lays the smack down about music writing 2K9 in an Eye Weekly interview:
There’s not enough interest in music to warrant an economy based on writing about it… If you hire someone who’s really bright and incisive, they’re still not going to get enough Google traffic as someone who writes Lady GaGa’s name all day. What does that mean for smart, incisive music writers? That we’re a dying breed. People don’t read Pitchfork, Stereogum or Vice magazine because they think the writing’s incredible… it’s lifestyle marketing, in that it captures the essence of what a generation wants. Music writing today is about web traffic.
His opinions on chillwave and Green Day are less defensible, but dude pretty much nails his chosen career. Shit’s depressing. Should we start a Rawkblog Kickstarter all Put This On style?
A pair of semi-official Toro Y Moi albums have been circulating this year — a summer compilation and tour release My Touch. Both have showcased the emerging genius (yes) of South Carolina native Chaz Bundick, class president of Chillwave ’09. With 2010′s Causers Of This, the first of two planned releases, he threatens to abandon his peers entirely — a true student of the ’00s, Bundick draws on Daft Punk’s neon beats and Panda Bear’s woozy repetition and appropriates club-minded, female-dominated R&B grooves for his own sensitive vocals. It’s gonna be a helluva decade.
An Elliott Smith documentary, Searching For Elliott Smith, is beginning to make the festival rounds — the first such movie to examine the life and untimely death of the troubled, peerless musician. Some of Smith’s friends and colleagues have been reticent to talk about him in the wake of his death — the new film’s claim to fame is an interview with his girlfriend, Jennifer Chiba, who bore the brunt of the maelstrom of criticism that arose after an investigation into Smith’s passing — previously considered a suicide — proved inconclusive. The Playlist has a good rundown of who has talked and who hasn’t and why the film matters; I will recommend the December 2004 issue of SPIN, Autumn De Wilde’s wonderful book (which doesn’t deal with the heftier issues behind Smith’s death, in favor of celebrating his life) and ask that you approach Ben Nugent’s Elliott Smith and the Big Nothing with caution. It’s not a bad portrait of Elliott, especially of his early years, but because of its lack of interviewing breadth and some notable factual errors, I won’t entirely endorse it. Hopefully the new film sheds some further light on one of the great musical tragedies of our time — and why he’s worth remembering.
It happened on Twitter. In short: Jay-Z is reliable, Lady Gaga is hilarious, Adam Lambert simulated a gay fellatio and got sorta censored, every female R&B singer sounded great but could really use some better material (I’m looking at you, Rihanna) and Taylor Swift won everything, as usual.
Dan Bejar hasn’t left us wanting since the release of 2008′s underrated Trouble in Dreams. The chief Destroyer embarked on a solo tour this spring, released the epic Bay of Pigs EP, and in an October solo show in Montreal, debuted another new track — the surprisingly personal “Chinatown.”
Dispatches from a week I mostly took off:
An Elliott Smith documentary, Searching For Elliott Smith, is beginning to make the festival rounds — the first such movie to examine the life and untimely death of the troubled, peerless musician. Some of Smith’s friends and colleagues have been reticent to talk about him in the wake of his death — the new film’s claim to fame is an interview with his girlfriend, Jennifer Chiba, who bore the brunt of the maelstrom of criticism that arose after an investigation into Smith’s passing — previously considered a suicide — proved inconclusive. 
