The first thing that grabbed me about this record is Krug’s ability to churn out one catchy melody after another. Almost every song will make you want to sing along. And Krug doesn’t stop at just one fetching hook per song; just when you think you’ve figured out a song’s focus, a new melody, as addictive as the last, will take over and have you bobbing your head in a whole new direction.

Were the plethora of melodies and the liberal smatterings of wo-oh-oh-ohs not fun enough, new layers are often introduced by Camilla Wynn Ingr, whose mesmerizing voice is a near-perfect complement to Krug’s. The two, who may be among my favorite male-female vocal duos, highlight these delightful combinations of melodies and vocals in the second track, Idiot Heart. An energetic, repetitive refrain feels as if it will bring the pounding rocker to its logical climax. But as the hook starts fading away, Ingr fades in with an even better one. The new hook would be great on it’s own, but it comes with one of the greatest “screw you” lines ever: “I hope you die/In a decent pair of shoes/You’ve got a lot of long walking to do/where you’re going to.”

Which brings me to the next piece of Krug’s brilliance: the lyrics. Krug writes with a metrical perfection that begs to be put to music. Just the title of the third track, Apollo and the Buffalo and Anna Anna Anna Oh feels as if it should be sung. And Krug infuses mythical, magical wonder in almost every song that reminds me of the Enid Blyton fantasy novels I read as a child (look her up – she’s great.) Also from Apollo: “We climbed up the cross on the mountain on New Year’s Eve/It was just god, the blizzard, the dream weaver and me.” The lyrics beg not just to be sung, they beg to be illustrated.

And Krug doesn’t sacrifice profundity for imagination or metrical integrity. From the epic closer, Dragon’s Lair: “Seen from the back of a train/I rode away from your station/They drifted in the air/Like memoirs of old conversations/Sprung from a leather case you opened in the wind/To watch the papers chase each other/into oblivion/You’re such a champion.”

And of course, from the same song, there’s the hilarious dig at the likes of me, “This one’s for the critics and their disappointed mothers.”

Amid all the lyrical and melodic complexity is the simplicity of the record’s production. As I hear, most of the album was recorded live, with no unnecessary frills or technical sleights of hand. There’s nothing that’s more complicated than a little extra flanger on the rhythm guitar on the records most energetic track, Black Swan.

The production rightly lets the raw musical talent take center stage. The rhythmic combination of keyboard and drums on the Jethro Tull-like Nightingale/December Song, or the simple guitar riff complementing the wo-oh-oh-ohs on Dragon’s Lair, or the soaring lead guitar backing up the closing refrains of Silver Moons, or the guitar-vocal conversation on Idiot Heart, none would be the same were they interrupted by an over-ambitious producer. The overdubs are kept to a minimum, emphasizing the basic elements that work really well – the melodies, the harmonies and the all-around foot-thumping good time.

All in all, Dragonslayer elevates Sunset Rubdown from its status as Spencer Krug’s side project; it’s every bit as engaging, complex, creative and simply enjoyable as any Wolf Parade record. We likely won’t get a good handle on Spencer Krug’s varied and self-referential portfolio until a late-career retrospective. I hope that late-career retrospective is a good time away.