Phantom Planet's first album in over a decade, 2020's
Tony Berg-produced
Devastator, is a buoyant yet lyrically acidic production that finds them balancing the effusive '70s-style AM and power pop of their early work with their more angular post-punk leanings. It's a sound that harks back to their 2002 breakthrough hit, "California." An infectious paean to West Coast manifest destiny that gained wider buzz as the theme song to the teen drama The O.C., the song's mantra of "California here we come, right back where we started from," feels particularly prescient in regards to
Devastator, an album that works as both a return to the band's roots and a fresh start. From the record title to the overall tone of raw emotionality, one could easily describe
Devastator as a "breakup" album. In fact, while the group did not technically call it quits, they did go on an extended hiatus in 2008 following the release of
Raise the Dead. During this period, singer
Alex Greenwald recorded a solo album and collaborated on projects with
Mark Ronson,
Jenny Lewis, and others. He also became engaged to and ultimately split from actress
Brie Larson -- a fact that feels intrinsically connected to
Devastator, but which is never explicitly detailed. What we do get is a nuanced and harmonically textured album that evokes the wry and biting '70s work of artists like
Harry Nilsson,
Jeff Lynne, and
Todd Rundgren -- Baroque pop melodicists drunk on heartbreak and dreams. On the dusky "Leave a Little Light On,"
Greenwald colors a vignette about loneliness with warm
Beach Boys-esque harmonies and clever chamber-pop architecture. Conversely, on "Only One," he sets a desolate and heartsick night drive to a laid-back, reggae-inflected groove and twangy guitar accents. Elsewhere, we get the sad-eyed acoustic ballad "Dear Dead End," the orchestral tearjerker "Gold Body Spray," and the minor-key
Kurt Weill-meets-
ABBA number "Waiting for the Lights to Change." That said, there are even darker shades to
Devastator, as on "Balisong," a menacing, slow-burn glitter-rock track in which
Greenwald's butterfly knife is perhaps both a metaphor for self-protection and a cutting symbol of romantic betrayal. More sanguine is "Time Moves On," a heart-wrenching mid-tempo anthem built around a shimmering low-end guitar riff and '80s keyboard flourish against which
Greenwald poignantly celebrates the end of a relationship. He sings "When we first met, we'd already been severed. Love's quick with goodbyes, but with us forever." With
Devastator,
Phantom Planet have crafted an album that deftly undercuts their hooky West Coast optimism with a bitterly cloudy beach bum sadness. You can almost hear the bright pop sound of their youth echoed back through the hazy din of waves returning to shore; California here we come, right back where we started from indeed. ~ Matt Collar