People make a lot of Spencer Krug’s lyrics. Are they intentionally
obfuscating, diary-page abstract tapestry? Do they spell a narrative?
Perhaps extra attention is paid because Krug enunciates more clearly
than most singers in popular rock music. Perhaps it’s because his lines
are unusually evocative, rangy, and, you know, good.
The prolific Krug is the better of the two singer-songwriters in
Wolf Parade and the unfortunately named Sunset Rubdown is just one of
his side projects. On Dragonslayer, Sunset Rubdown’s fourth
release, Krug crafts a characteristic pack of beguiling, moody rock
ballads — groovy, proggy, urbane — set in a sui
generis mythos that endlessly alludes and amuses.
The record’s title is cribbed from a 1981 sci-fi film, and Icarus,
Cupid, and Rapunzel all make cameos. But the characters appear only as
sojourners in this otherworldly text. The band’s splashy, fuzzy
electronics rev, stall, and shape-shift beneath Krug’s bizarre
incantations. It’s a surprisingly suitable soundtrack for this mishmash
of canonical fantasy and simple whimsy.
Dragonslayer is home to near-animate text objects that take
many different forms — all of which Krug strives to sunder in his
epic realm. Paper burns and paper fades/and paper crumples into ugly
shapes; confetti floats away like dead leaves; elsewhere,
papers chase each other/into oblivion. These are the songs of
the old gods reborn in fire. (Jagjaguwar)
