Back from the dead, Sunset Rubdown has reformed, toured, and brought a new record to light after 14 years of silence.

Originally formed as an outlet for Wolf Parade’s frontman Spencer Krug to make experimental recordings, Sunset Rubdown had previously written three wonderfully theatrical albums before their hiatus.

For anyone new to the party, Always Happy to Explode is the perfect entry point. Spencer Krug has never written a song that could be considered too safe, but the quartet’s newest record feels a bit cozier than their previous releases. Opposed to long-format songs with multiple movements, this collection is more concise while still retaining the adventurous melancholy character that’s synonymous with Krug’s music. “Candles” is even, dare I say, fun. Hiccuping hi hat beats follow a bouncing synthesizer through a progression that will keep your head bobbing and toe tapping.

Imagine you’ve just sat down for a lunch at a quiet bistro, and you can overhear the people at the table behind you. They’re trying to speak softly and you can’t quite grasp all the context, but you can’t help eavesdropping. “My goodness,” you think, “This man is losing his mind.”

This is exactly how Spencer Krug’s lyrics feel: beautifully devastating, altogether unsettling, and piercingly private.

The album begins with “Losing Light.” A tale of an overwhelmed cinematographer being swallowed up in their failures, it’s a captivating story of someone completely falling apart. The most compelling opening line I’ve heard in ages comes from “Reappearing Rat.” This was the first single to usher in their return, and it begins, “Every little thing in the room is perfect. The pillows look casually thrown but clean.”

While it’s absolutely not what I expected to hear, it’s a melody and set of lyrics that I could’ve easily imagined being done by David Bowie, Kaiser Chiefs, or even Bob Dylan. It only takes one line to set the stage, and immediately you’re immersed. I’ll be honest, when this song dropped I spun it to death. I’ve probably heard it a hundred times already, and I still can’t get enough of it.

While it’s hard to choose favorites here, another stand out track for me is “All Alright.” The song is wonderfully off-kilter on its own, but there’s this creepy, and I mean creepy dissonant synthesizer buried underneath the band that adds so much anxiety to the horrifying roller coaster ride. It’s wonderful, and I had to get back in line to ride it again.

Synth-heavy, yet on the minimalist side, the textures in Always Happy to Explode are the audio equivalent of the cool autumn wind cutting right through your lightest coat on a walk that should’ve been a drive.

With the exception of “Cliché Town,” there’s a notable absence of any electric guitars, string sections, or horns – which have previously been staples in the band’s sound. In their place, the prominent use of space and an acoustic guitar add quite the touch this time around. The new palette of sounds also features the echoed sleigh bells and chimes of “Ghoulish Hearts.” The song is a hypnotic ear worm. It drew me in with its haunting and lush synthesizer hook. It’s essentially the Canadian siren’s song.

Sunset Rubdown doesn’t have a platinum album. I don’t think you’ll hear them in a Marvel movie soundtrack. And they probably won’t sell out a global tour. But they didn’t make this album to do that. They made something special. Music entirely dissociated with pop.

Reflective and bittersweet, this is Sunset Rubdown at their finest.