Sunset Rubdown

Spencer Krug is everywhere, but for those who prefer rock’s more experimental side, “Random Spirit Lover” is the place to find him. Krug, for the uninitiated, is not only keyboardist and vocalist for Sunset Rubdown, but a creative force behind Wolf Parade as well as a member of both Frog Eyes and Canadian indie supergroup Swan Lake. Krug’s credentials have undoubtedly attracted attention to Sunset Rubdown’s third LP in as many years; they’ve also set up extremely high expectations. While “Random Spirit Lover” is a valiant attempt to live up to them, it doesn’t quite make it.

Opener “The Mending of the Gown” flicks and flutters at hummingbird speeds, with verses punctuated by a stabbing guitar riff and frenetic piano accompaniment. Krug’s eccentric wail reverberates somewhere on the spectrum between the New Pornographers’ A.C. Newman and Polyphonic Spree’s Tim DeLaughter, sharing the latter’s unabashed enthusiasm and strange habit of lengthening his vowels.

The track’s chaotic arrangement and nonsensical lyrics introduce the jovial insanity that permeates the entire album. “Gown” rolls seamlessly into “Magic Vs. Midas,” which starts out subdued and slowly builds upward into tenser and more earnest territory.

Like “Magic,” “Up on Your Leopard, Upon the End of Your Feral Days” is not what it initially seems: what begins as a somewhat silly candy-covered synth-pop wash evolves subtly into a furious electronic symphony, and then transforms yet again into a guitar-driven tempest. Here is “Lover”’s finest moment.

The album does, however, have its shortcomings. After about ninety seconds of bizarre vocal interjections and erratic drumming, “The Courtesan Has Sung” decides to go somewhere; unfortunately, that somewhere is a Specter-esque thoroughfare, complete with walls of anonymous female vocals, keyboard sounds, and synthesizers. It’s the biggest of the question marks that punctuate the album. Thankfully, Krug finds his way back into more familiar waters with “Winged/Wicked Things,” punched up by visceral guitar waves that lap across an ocean of keyboard hum. Krug’s talent for building tension is unquestionable, and the song offers what may be the album’s schizophrenic manifesto: “And chaos is yours / And chaos is mine / And chaos is love and they say love is blind.”

Centerpiece “Stallion” clocks in at over six drab, confused minutes and is, quite possibly, the album’s most glaring error. The song is a case study for what can go wrong when creative vision and baroque lyrical aspirations take precedence over melody and focus. Rubdown redeem themselves, however briefly, with “For the Pier (and Dead Shimmering),” a jittery, melodic pop tune that highlights the band’s strengths.

Is Sunset Rubdown eclipsing its more venerated siblings? Offering their third LP for Wolf Parade’s incubating second, one may rush to say yes. Flaws aside, Krug is definitely onto something. But while the five or six strongest tracks here would make for an excellent EP, the remainder hinders a band that has not yet fully blossomed. While “Random Spirit Lover” has its standouts, it’s not unreasonable to want more from one of indie’s rising institutions.