Sunset Rubdown

There are many bands for whom we have Spencer Krug to thank, at least in part. His contributions to Wolf Parade, Moonface and Swan Lake alone make a strong case for him to be regarded as some sort of North American indie rock parallel of Damon Albarn, but it’s as frontman of the excellent Sunset Rubdown that I’d argue his artistry reached its nadir. Just when you thought there was little left one could do with the medium, Krug arrives with a slew of records that restore one’s faith in the possibilities inherent in indie rock. His songs aren’t exactly anthems – Krug’s too clever to play it so safe – but live, they’re greeted as if they are by an audience of in the know alternative rock geeks (fans, sorry) who can’t believe that bands like Death Cab For Cutie can sell out stadiums while Sunset Rubdown go largely unnoticed by the world at large. Having a group like this as one’s little secret does have its advantages, however – one being that shows tend to be smaller, intimate affairs where everyone in attendance can see the sweat dripping down Krug’s face, as they try to wipe the tears of joy from theirs.