Cassandra Jenkins’ third solo studio album My Light, My Destroyer wasn’t supposed to exist. Jenkins, who was born into a musical family, released an EP and an album in the 2010s and performed as back up for Eleanor Friedberger and Craig Finn (The Hold Steady). However, the spotlight largely eluded her – and a potential breakout opportunity to perform with David Berman on his Purple Mountains tour shattered days before the tour was set to commence, when the alternative legend died by suicide. As such, Jenkins decided upon completion of her 2021 album An Overview on Phenomenal Nature, that the LP would be her swan song.
However, against all odds, that album – full of blissful, meditative chamber folk tunes that moved at their own patient pace – became a cult sensation and critically acclaimed success. What Jenkins thought marked the end of her musical career turned out to be the start of a wildly promising new chapter.
If Jenkins created Phenomenal Nature as a final goodbye on her own terms, largely unconcerned with the reception it may go on to receive, she seems acutely aware of the high expectations and larger-than-ever audience that will greet My Light, My Destroyer. After a quiet start via the gentle, vulnerable “Devotion”, Jenkins immediately follows by showcasing her expanded ambitions on “Clams Casino”. A rollicking, indie-rock tune punctuated by short, sharp electric guitar riffs, this tune about ends and new beginnings recalls the liveliest moments of Waxahatchee and Hurray For The Riff Raff’s recent LPs.
Another delightful left-turn arrives via “Petco”, an earworm that evokes the radio-friendly soft-rock of the 2000s. Jenkins, however, uses this infectious soft-rock sonic palette to soundtrack a far more singular narrative – of a trip to the pet store giving way to an existential crisis. Looking “into the sideways gaze of a lizard” for comfort, she instead returns wondering “What is my true nature? / Can I take care of anything? / Or anyone I’m eyeing?”
My Light, My Destroyer represents Jenkins’ debut for Dead Oceans (Bright Eyes, Mitski, Phoebe Bridgers). Accompanying the move to a larger label is the incorporation of more musicians and expanded ambitions. Jenkins’ outsized aspirations come together best on “Aurora, IL”, a meditation on human fragility, the planet, capitalism and isolation. A gorgeous swell of horns, drums, strings and wurlitzer at the half-way point make for the album’s most stunning moment – turning a tale of existential crisis into something transcendent.
The stakes were high for Jenkins following the well-received Phenomenal Nature, and following up an organically successful album such as that one was always going to be a challenge. Whereas Jenkins’ previous album felt entirely spontaneous and unmoored from expectations, My Light, My Destroyer demonstrates a clear attempt to replicate the success of its predecessor without sounding like a retread. The best moments here, like “Aurora, IL” and “Delphinium Blue”, succeed by expanding Jenkins’ sound while maintaining the core elements of her artistry such as her existential lyricism, luscious arrangements and lilting vocals.
Occasionally, however, Jenkins’ efforts see diminishing returns. Much of Phenomenal Nature’s success stemmed from the single “Hard Drive” – a jazzy, half-sung-half-spoken number that combined mundane everyday details with meditations on the nature of humanity and our shared culture. My Light, My Destroyer’s “Betelgeuse” reads as a direct attempt to replicate the “Hard Drive” formula – as Jenkins and her mother muse about the planets via spoken-word over an arrangement led by horns and piano. The song is nice but can feel like it lives in the shadow of the Phenomenal Nature standout. Outside of this, the album’s only other real fault is that an unnecessary number of interludes for such an economic LP (runtime: 36 minutes) creates a sense of disjointedness.
However, My Light, My Destroyer remains an unmistakably gorgeous listen created by a musician attuned to perfecting lilting melodies like few others are. For the most part, Jenkins diligently alternates between meeting and sidestepping the high expectations placed on her third album, and remains finely attuned to the nuances of human nature. On the gorgeous “Aurora, IL”, she reflects on the vastness of our universe, crooning, “Just a thin line / Between us and nothing”. Her cognizance of the fragility of our existence, of the possibility that everything we know and love could instantaneously cease to exist, ultimately fuels her to make her music that really means something; and in turn has the power to really move us.
