"Benet has polished his shtick so much that it's almost impossible to hold on to."
Don't despair, Donny Benet's latest album contains the same mix of self-deprecation, satire and synth you've come to expect - sort of like the soundtrack to an '80s summer coming of age comedy at the intersection of arpeggiation and assonance - but over the course of four albums Benet has polished his shtick so much that it's almost impossible to hold on to.
Most of Donny's charm comes from his simplicity and sincerity, the anachronistic auteur delivering droll woes over dubious loops. But there's only so much mileage you can milk from the sad-boy romantic sound before the appeal starts to droop and Donny seems more like a Reddit brand 'Nice Guy' than a stand-up comedian with a backing band.
Maybe the world has changed in the four years since we spent the Weekend At Donny's or maybe Donny hasn't. All the tracks on The Don are individually bouncy things, rife with potential giggles and nostalgic beats, all delivered with an oddly well-kempt joie de vivre. But it's a little too clean and manufactured, a bowl of refined sugar where one or two spoonfuls might be nice but anything more than that and you're probably doing yourself a damage.