WOLF PARADE - Expo 86

Wolf Parade have led a funny existence—charmed for sure, but in small ways, cursed as well. When the quartet was first brought to national attention, they had little more than a self-released EP and an rather helpful opening slot for the Arcade Fire under their belts. But the world was stoked on Montreal and a rapturous reception for their debut full-length, Apologies To The Queen Mary, seemed an inevitability. 

And so it was. And although time has proven that Mary was indeed a strong album, it was funny what happened next. Their follow-up, At Mount Zoomer, wasn't a bomb, but it kind of died on the vine a bit. (Hey, sophomore slumps are nothing new.) In the interim, the band's two main songwriters each formed very successful side projects (or in one man's case, many side projects). In the wake of the sexually-charged, minimalist greaser-punked rock of Dan Boeckner's Handsome Furs and Spencer Krug's acid-carnival progfest, Sunset Rubdown, the pupils have now become the teacher. Wolf Parade is back to being a young cub of a band: a side-project these guys get to when their other gigs have some downtime.

Maybe they don't view it that way, but it sure as hell feels like that from the outside. So their third LP, Expo 86, has arrived quietly and quickly—a sneak attack of an album to attempt to charm back the crowd and remind them who won the love for these guys in the first place.

After seeing what Boeckner and Krug could do individually, Zoomer was often beset by accusations of the two songwriters not working harmoniously together, but Expo 86 suggests that these two still have much to bring to each other's party. Boeckner runs security at Krug's screwy midway, scaring the rowdy teens straight and winking at the girls, while Krug injects Boeckner's world-weary Springsteen stomps with a quirky levity and an oddly-welcome beach ball to toss into the crowd: yin/yang perfection.

There's no anthem quite on par with Mary's "Shine A Light", "Modern World" or "Heart's On Fire" (although the "Don't how to stop it at all" refrain of "Pobody's Nerfect" comes awfully close), but these are terrific tunes that make the most of a distracted indie spotlight. The band (plus guitarist Dante DeCaro and drummer Arlen Thompson) are stellar throughout, muscular and at ease. The world may be more interested in the follow-up to the Furs' Face Control, but it's nice to see Wolf Parade make such a strong case for its own existence.