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"You look like Magnum PI!" a woman yells from the crowd. Spencer Krug's eyes open wildly, his head barely coming up before a mischievous smile is seen beneath the moustache that elicited the comparison. He replies, "I have never been more flattered and insulted in my entire life."
These days, the insults are few and far between. Krug is, of course, the co-leader of last year's break-out Canadian sensation Wolf Parade and also part of the indie supergroup Swan Lake - a band whose early buzz has their soon-to-be-released debut saddled with high expectations. But tonight, the first of two shows at the Bowery Ballroom, Krug is part of Sunset Rubdown, and he could stroll out in a short skirt and heels and it wouldn't do a dent to his enormous indie cred.
Each time Krug sports that Cheshire grin, it's clear he is aware of his talent, but it also seems that he still questions his place at the head of the table. When listening to Sunset Rubdown's debut, Shut Up I Am Dreaming, Krug's distinct yelping drawl immediately hits you in the face. In my ideal world, State of the Unions would be written by competent politicians and read in perfect iambic pentameter by a voice like Krug's. His words have a hypnotic allure when quiet and subdued, and when he gets excited, it's as effective as a bucket of cold water tossed into dreamy, crusted eyes.
When a singer/songwriter splits his time between a few different groups, listeners inevitably wonder how he decides which songs will belong to which band. "Snake's Got a Leg III" is strikingly similar to Wolf Parade's anthems of drunken pirate revelry, but for most of Sunset's catalogue Krug pens kaleidoscope tunes of slow progressive rock. This band commands and exploits empty spaces of sound more concisely than Krug's other projects. In "Stadiums & Shrines," guitars squeal like shooting stars, and Krug punches at his keys like he is resuscitating a body turned cold. "I'm sorry that anyone dies at all these days," Krug confesses, intimating that he feels responsible, even if he didn't pull the trigger.
"Us Ones in Between" is the tenderest song on the band's debut and comes across like a wrecking ball live. Krug lingers over his keyboard, rocking back and forth as his fingers seamlessly find their mark. His voice is clear and distinct, and the lyrics, despite all of their strange metaphors, read like a strange letter of advice to a son about to leave home ("and you should always pass/ when in the inside line").
The xylophone and Krug's whistling add an interesting twist to this dark narrative as a guitar gently moans in the background like a fog horn running low on juice. "I have heard of creatures that eat their babies/ I wonder if they ever stop to think about that taste," Krug wonders. His tone shifts from aggressor to observer to victim as he pleads, "I am surviving... / Oh baby, mother me, before you eat me."
Krug ties on a headband before "They Took a Vote and Said No." Handling his accordion, he pulls off his best Daniel Laruso impression while shielding his eyes from pools of sweat. "I'm Sorry I Sang on Your Hands that Have Been in the Grave" sounds as close to a Danny Elfman score as anything I have heard and would fit nicely in any Tim Burton film.
The band closes its regular set with a beautiful rendition of "Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings." Krug sings in quick, abbreviated breaths while a guitar adds a lullaby touch to the sentimentality. But it's in the first encore song, "The Empty Threats of Little Lord," that the room stands perfectly still. The song opens with a hauntingly eerie reverberation that I am quite sure is created by xylophone player Camilla Wynne Ingr running a small egg-shaped vibrator across the face of her instrument. Krug opens his mouth and warns, "If I ever hurt you, it will be in self defense."
Krug goes through a lacerating condemnation of someone who has wronged him, bitterly wishing good tidings to this "snake," as the song builds and builds until he can't take it anymore. With his teeth clenched he professes, "My heart is in my chest, you snake/ you can have the rest, you snake!" as the rest of the band comes in, lending vocal support like a group of good friends backing up a vulnerable buddy.
The band walks off the stage, having played practically their entire debut, a couple reworked songs from older EPs, and a new song, but still, so many seem to be left wanting more. I guess we'll just have to wait for the band's next album or until Krug wakes up one day and decides to start a brand new band.
— 12 October 2006
