Djo's "The Crux"
Graphic by Kristen Lee
by Salem Ross
Marathon runners spend hours training for a whole year and still finish the race with bloody t-shirts and nausea. Nonetheless, a smile is plastered across their face in the end, waiting for the next starting gun to go off. Joe Keery, now known under the alias, Djo, jumps the starting gun with this guitar-heavy, get-well-soon letter to breakups of all varieties. Reminiscent of The Cars The Crux, his third album in newfound music stardom, comes during an influx of breakup aftermath songs that don’t see the finish line. His new approach to finding salvation in oneself is traced through twelve tracks, each song passing the baton until first place is earned.
Keery’s past discography, Twenty Twenty and DECIDE, are comparable to Gary Newman guitars and cassette crackles. When the question of who Djo is—something along the lines of “Steve 'the hair' Harrington from Stranger Things?” isn’t an uncommon thing to hear.Only playing a small amount of live performances, the band and Keery stepped out onto the stage adorned in bleached white jumpsuit disguises. To create more of a deference on his grand actor looks, sunglasses and wigs that can only be resembled as Silkie guinea pigs were the final touches of the grand incognito.The bands first two albums have a defining quality with their dark blues in feel and imagery. The Crux, a departure from their earlier work, crashes down on the past and creates a beam of light through the glass ceiling for their audience. It differs from his past works with lyrics of more personal earnestness, questioning if movement is obtainable in a person no matter their situation. The Crux justs out of this rut, picking up on moving forward without any weight on your back.
Starting with “Lonesome Is A State of Mind,” the first chapter of the album takes the listener through a recap of events. The déjà vu fervor of the track goes back to the past as it attempts to capture life without its complexities and entanglements, as well as our attachments to other people. Fame, relationships, even the simplicity of transportation feel different when the non-existence of what once was lingers around like a ghost. The second verse creates a pendulum of being over our wounds and then having them reopen in a matter of weeks to seconds. “I swear I've had this dinner before / I know I've heard that song / My future's not what I thought / I think I thought it wrong.” Although upon first listen, I found these lines akin to something I would find in my notes app days after contemplating a situation, I eventually found them evocative. There is a line throughout the record, a push-pull between finding a comfortable future and being stuck in the past. Songs like “Link” with a 156 BPM driving through the 3:15 run time highlight this. Lyrics that are conjured up as questions follow through the track until the listener runs off course.
“Delete Ya,” the continuation of a diminishing love, is told through “replenish and repeat”–ing, it stands as a song of aftermath. Being the fifth track, “Delete Ya” matches up with Twenty Twenty’s “Chateau (feel alright).” The band references their past track through its samples and lines of an old song and heartbreak. The theme of letting go is a recurring motif, that unironically the end is a new beginning. Letting go of worrying about what the other person thinks. It's easier to go to the past in some instances. There is a routine set. Knowing what's going to happen next is a greater assurance than in the future. My second favorite track of the album, “Fly,” puts this into perspective with the line highlighted in the pre-chorus, “Followed every winding road / And the path it took me to / No, I don't look back in anger / Do you?” This is another question left unanswered, and maybe that is for the best that it's left in the past.
The Crux fills in a hole of forgetfulness. Sometimes, you don’t need to forget; remember what once was and move on. Djo is a firm believer in this statement. An album cover adorned with images that force the listener to look too close, reach your head in the speakers and see the light at the end of the soundsystem, no matter how far back it goes.