On his provocatively titled debut album (a hit in the U.K., where it’s sold over a quarter-million copies and earned Elton John’s endorsement since its release in 2004), Myles MacInnes doesn’t really do much damage to rock and roll. I can’t imagine many actual rock and rollers—the dudes in Jet, for instance, with their DISCO SUCKS T-shirts—feeling all that intimidated by the sight of this 27-year-old Isle of Skye–born Jack Johnson look-alike. And what destruction Mylo’s post-house electropop does cause certainly doesn’t come as a result of his rocking more intensely than a band like Jet (who in truth could probably be outrocked without a great deal of effort).
If MacInnes were in a band, he’d be in one of those featured in Yacht Rock, the Internet mockumentary about the Doobie Brothers’ SoCal soft-rock scene. Throughout Destroy he gives twinkly bedroom electronica jams the same rolling motion those seafaring victims of funk gave their tunes; in “Valley of the Dolls” he improves upon the Doobies, since the only vocals to distract you from the easy-street beat are wordless syllables. Perhaps this is why Elton digs Mylo: MacInnes trades rock’s innate self-interest for techno’s communitarian ideal. He wants you to be your own tiny dancer.