Dan Bejar is so cryptically obtuse on his records' spotlit songs that a tucked-away rarity seemed likely to be doubly unknowable. Expecting an epic and indecipherable string of girls' names and eight-syllable words nestled over barely audible plucking, "Madame Butterflies" (Bejar's half of a "Record Store Day" split seven-inch with Wye Oak) caught me off guard with its three-minute economy. But let's not all purse our whistling lips just yet. Destroyer songs usually have a heavy melodic element, and this is no exception, but the song's flow is continually thwarted. The chief culprit is a loose and nagging little guitar riff that takes precedence over continuity and occasionally grinds the proceedings to a halt entirely.

Attention to lyrical detail reveals gems of non-committal surrealism like, "yes, I suppose in this it does/ highlight the way her mother's corset was/ wrapped 'round a cage." He spits these lines like a French painter on absinthe--seemingly lucid, but completely unable to connect with an unskewed mind. Under the proper circumstances his lyrics can sound like the meaning-drenched words of a cagey oracle. But with a lacking tune and a stunted run-time, they're merely sweet nothings that might flutter out of your head with the slightest wind.