DJO - THE CRUX
Joe Keery, who records under the name Djo, has never quite fit into a conventional niche in contemporary pop and indie rock. His acting stardom may have brought him to our attention, but his releases have steadily established a trajectory that is at once nostalgic and looking ahead. With his third album, The Crux, he takes that balance one step further, immersing himself in heartbreak, self-analysis, and reinvention while experimenting with production that is rich, vibrant, and sometimes just a mite demented.
This record feels like a pivotal moment. If his debut, Twenty Twenty, served as a delightful introduction and DECIDE marked a significant leap into confidence and experimentation, then The Crux embodies the essence of an artist confronting personal turmoil and striving to transform it into something meaningful. It possesses a moody yet playful quality, a blend of sadness and hope, and is nearly always a pleasure to experience.
Right from the start, The Crux creates an intimate and epic atmosphere. The production wraps you in warmth, the stacked synths, guitar leads, and otherworldly vocals that hug rather than suffocate. It has that feeling of music written for introspective listening with headphones and the lights out, and yet at the same time, it has moments that would be ideal for a drive down the highway with the windows down.
Keery confronts his emotional baggage he's carrying honestly on this album. The shadow of a breakup looms over many tracks, and he treats it less as a scar than a doorway, a situation that pushed him to explore his identity and his destiny. It is that fine balance between suffering and possibility that lends the album its irresistible appeal.
Sonically, The Crux wears its influences on its sleeve. Echoes of old-school '70s pop rock pop out alongside the glossy sounds of '80s synths and the epic sweep of psychedelic soundscapes. But Djo doesn't copy, he deftly warps his references to forge his own distinct voice. The production is earthy, providing plenty of room in the mix for instruments and vocals to expand and contract naturally.
Certain tracks explore groove and rhythm with basslines that pulsate with almost funky rhythms. Others float like otherworldly dream-pop singles. There are moments of campy whimsy, even songs in which one almost imagines his smirk in the recording booth as he disparages modern culture or playfully satirises his own neuroses. All of this keeps the album from ever becoming tedious.
Where Keery has thrived as a songwriter is in his embracing of contradiction. One line he'll be singing about loneliness and the next he'll be responding to that with humor. He notes the ridiculousness of social media and the vacuous nature of relationships, and yet he doesn't shy away from taking a close look at his own involvement.
The lyrics seldom venture into the abstract; instead, they carry a conversational tone, often tinged with wryness. At moments, they may strike one as somewhat on-the-nose, yet that adds to their charm. Djo doesn’t aim for crypticness, his goal is to forge a connection. When he sings of longing, confusion, or self-doubt, it resonates as approachable rather than overbearing.
Some tracks turn out to be decisive points within the album:
‘Basic Being Basic' is a cheeky, memorable tune that frolics in the emptiness of surface level engagements and yet is irresistibly bubbly. The chorus is one of those singalong earworms that gets stuck in one's head nearly instantly.
‘Delete Ya’ arrives as a gentler, slow-burning track, and the production recedes just far enough that the emotional punch comes across. It sounds intimate and gritty, and has a glossy sheen.
‘Golden Line’ is a ballad-inclined track that swells with lush harmonies and opulent instrumentation. The song represents the core of the album, expressing earnestness without irony.
'Potion’ is an upbeat track that displays the ability of Djo to craft irresistible grooves. It has a sense of confidence yet a carefree charm.
These tracks, and a couple others, illustrate the album's diverse range, moving from sharp pop commentary to melancholy musing on loss and passage.
Its greatest strength is its skillful balance between atmosphere and accessibility. It's experimental without being unwilling to commit to a sturdy pop sensibility. Each song possesses a melodic hook that makes the song memorable, even as we become more and more entangled in arrangement.
The production deserves its share of accolades. The album is undeniably a labor of love, a quality that resonates through its intricate textures, be it the subtly warped synth lines, the choir gently swelling in the background, or the way Keery masterfully layers his vocals to evoke both intimacy and distance simultaneously. It strikes me as a record that offers rewards for those who listen closely, yet doesn’t impose any demands; you can let it envelop you like a soothing tide, or you can delve deeper and uncover its hidden details.
However, the album is far from perfect. Some songs dip into tried-and-better musical and lyrical territory and they may end up sounding one-dimensional if you are not totally focused. The sequencing, though diverse, at times switches mood a bit too precipitously, shifting from lighthearted to decidedly inward without necessarily doing so with a seamless transition.
There is also the influence question. Although Djo has managed to create his distinct sound, one may find some instances where the inspirations are a little too apparent. Sometimes one gets to feel the ghostly presence of old bands lurking in the backdrop of the tracks, which has some effect on making them less unique.
Nonetheless, these problems never derail the album. If anything, they illustrate an artist continuing to hone his voice, and considering how far he has progressed in three records, that is a whole lot more exhilarating than frustrating.
If you step back and view the album as a whole, what lingers is its mood: bittersweet, expansive, and oddly comforting. It was an album about endings, and yet an album about the peculiar freedom that endings allow. There's sadness, yes, and melancholy, and yet there's humor and strength and joy in experimentation.
In that respect, The Crux is a friend to anybody experiencing transition ragged, lopsided, yet finally optimistic.
Fans of indie pop and rock laced with psychedelic influences will discover much to savor here. If you appreciate albums that harmonise catchy hooks with an immersive atmosphere, or artists unafraid to blend the serious with the whimsical, this is undoubtedly for you. Moreover, this album possesses a versatility that shines in various settings: play it casually, and the melodies will delight you, yet take the time to engage deeply, and you'll uncover the intricate layers of meaning and production woven throughout.
With The Crux, Djo releases his most adventurous and intimate album to date. Though perhaps not without its flaws, it has a quality that feels both honest and exploratory, a record that takes the brutish building blocks of heartbreak and self-doubt and makes something rich and memorable.
Kayla Kerridge
★★★☆☆