Sunset Rubdown is largely the work of Spencer Krug. Before I tell you about Sunset Rubdown, I must deal with the elephant in the room-the other band Spencer writes songs, plays keyboards and sings in called Wolf Parade. As anyone who doesn't live in a cave knows, Wolf Parade's debut full-length on Sub Pop, Apologies to the Queen Mary, has been enjoying widespread critical and commercial success, landing itself at #28 on The Village Voice's prestigious Jazz & Pop poll and selling somewhere around 50,000 copies as of the day this bio was written. This is really great for Spencer and his three or four collaborators in Wolf Parade. Imagine having a great career owning a business in partnership with your longtime friends, the company is going well, the clients are pleased, public opinion is high, you're productively busy and those efforts are tremendously gratifying for each member of the group. That's Wolf Parade. However, when you get home, take off your work clothes, relax, maybe see your family, hell, even a do a little work at the home office, it's a different kind of pleasure and gratification. You have a few drinks, march around your apartment in your underwear, make some breakthroughs in your own headspace and channel the ether. That's Sunset Rubdown.
Sunset Rubdown started as a solo project of Spencer's home recordings. Canadian micro-indie Global Symphonic, who also released the (pre-Wolf Parade) Atlas Strategic album as well as the first Frog Eyes album, released the project's first album, Snake's Got A Leg, in June 2005 and a 5-song self-titled EP in January 2006.
On their new album, Shut Up I Am Dreaming, Sunset Rubdown has evolved into a full-fledged band effort, abandoning the idiosyncrasies of lo-fi solo work yet still eschewing the allure of a polished, glossy production. Joined by Jordan Robson Cramer, Mike Doerksen and Camilla Wynn Ingr, Spencer has transformed Sunset Rubdown into a force of nature and crafted an enormous record. Rough and expansive like a thunderstorm or the whole of a canyon, Shut Up I Am Dreaming rollicks and rages in broad, sweeping gestures and tiny messages. It rolls towards oblivion like a cathedral on wheels, a shaky blur of crumbling grandeur, a miracle or a wreck of color and divinity.