It’s disarming to learn that, despite his somewhat aloof public persona, there’s an undeniable warmth that shines through. He’s reflective, thoughtful, and has a dry, understated humour that can catch you off guard. “So it’s pretty extreme, you know, I’m either just around town living the most normal life or I’m like, living in bars and sleeping on a bus.”

Supporting Father John Misty has a few familiar experiences—recalling his earlier touring days when he sang as the not-so-secret member of the New Pornographers—and holds some new ones as well. “There are some places we don’t normally go to, crazy venues that we would never ever step foot in like the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville or Massey Hall that are really big and fancy,” Bejar says. “You see how cities will change over the course of decades. You see how America changes also, which is both interesting and scary.”

Bejar’s musical journey began in the 1990s as part of the Canadian indie scene. With early albums like We’ll Build Them A Golden Bridge (1996) and Destroyer’s Rubies (2006), Destroyer earned a reputation for Bejar’s cryptic yet poetic lyrics and his ability to craft lush, intricate arrangements. Destroyer’s sound is often marked by a deep sense of melancholy and longing, paired with a sophisticated approach to melody and production.

Photo: Eden Graham

As Destroyer continued to evolve, albums like Kaputt (2011) and Poison Season (2015) brought him critical acclaim. Bejar’s career is defined by his commitment to artistic freedom, making him one of the most respected and enigmatic figures in modern indie music. 

Outside of the current tour, there’s exciting work brewing. Destroyer’s upcoming studio album, Dan’s Boogie, is an exciting return to the the core of the band’s musicality, with an invigorated angle. “We didn’t go in with any kind of concept, which is maybe the first time in a while. We just wanted to make stuff that sounded cool to us,” he says. “At first it was kind of cringy. I was like, ‘Oh, man, this just sounds so like us.’ But then it felt that, in a way, there was something different about it than the sound that we’ve had, say, 20 years ago.” 

Bejar decided to own being artistically true to himself this time around. “This new record just sounds like the kind of shit that I’m into…the last record really sounds unfamiliar to me and just weird and skewed and kind of a production exercise.” 

This time around, the writing of this album wasn’t as aligned with Bejar’s usual approach, as coaxing out concepts that had been culminating over the two-year break didn’t come easily. “I did that for like a year and a half or maybe even close to two years. And nothing much was going on. I was like, okay, I guess doing it the old-fashioned way isn’t going to work.” 

Instead, he needed a new spark in the form of the piano. “I actually just forced myself to sit down and write a bunch of songs on the piano, which is kind of the impetus of the record,” he says. “Every day I’m like ‘I’m going to just play piano just as a muscle, as a way to stay connected to music with an instrument you like.’” 

Photo: Eden Graham

“I feel like the songs on Dan’s Boogie are kind of a bit dreamier than the last couple records. They’re also kind of cockier, they kind of have some swagger to them, which reminds me of old jazz singers that I like. Songs I would have been too bashful to do when I was 30,” Bejar continues. He describes the performances of this new material as “all old man singing,” which comes quite naturally to him these days. “It seems to be the easiest way to express myself, just an old dude muttering to himself in a corner somewhere…If it feels good singing it, I just sing it.”

Being an artist with a long legacy of music behind him, it can be complicated to connect with his ongoing fan base while also capturing the attention of younger generations. “In your dream worlds, you make something that could connect with all sorts of people, right? That’s the dream.”

But when it comes to social media, Bejar is a little less intrigued, and (hilariously) guarded. When it comes to Destroyer’s own Instagram page, “I can’t talk about it, but I will say I’ve never visited it nor do I know how to access it. Which can sometimes be for the best,” he says, later elaborating “Most of my refusal of social media stuff is just fear-based. I don’t really have anything I want to communicate through that, it’s just not my medium.”

Back at home, Bejar is known to Vancouverites as somewhat of a mythical figure; you might catch a glimpse of his salt and pepper coif sitting in a coffee shop and wonder if you’ve stumbled upon the famed local musician. But Destroyer sightings aren’t as rare as you might think. “I do like to try and go outside and go for a long walk,” he says. “That kind of helps keep you healthy or sane.”