Spiritual Cramp aren’t looking for a soapbox. The San Francisco-born punk experimentalists are here to flash a big smile, flip you off, deliver a burst of musical adrenaline, and then keep on walking. “But at the same time, that's something that I'm working on,” vocalist Michael Bingham knowingly grins. And on their upcoming sophomore album, RUDE (due TK via Blue Grape Music), Spiritual Cramp discover a newfound balance between that impish cheekiness, emotional vulnerability, and rabid energy. “When you focus on yourself and the people around you, you can keep your side of the street clean,” Bingham says. “And when I see the opposite of that, I get kind of offended, which is what a lot of these songs are about.” From the very first seconds of RUDE’s opening track “I’m an Anarchist”, Spiritual Cramp make it clear what their side of the street is. The record is framed with the tuning of an FM dial and the voice of DJ Crash (played by percussionist Jose Luna), introducing Wild 87 Radio and the “San Francisco rude boy sound.” The fictitious radio station takes its name from the band’s original moniker prior to renaming themselves after a song by southern California rockers Christian Death, and recurs on the album as a way to keep the band grounded in their SF roots. “My foundation is in San Francisco, California, and from there I can go anywhere and be who I am,” Bingham says. The song that follows the radio intro similarly grounds listeners in the Spiritual Cramp musical language, Bingham delivering tongue-in-cheek sloganeering (“I’m an anarchist, so leave me alone”) over clap-along sunshine punk. While Spiritual Cramp have perfected their kaleidoscopic take on rock over nearly a decade, the gleeful RUDE marks the start of a new era for the band. Bingham and bassist Mike Fenton have been the band’s constants in that time—not to mention having worked on other projects together prior—and wrote the majority of Spiritual Cramp’s songs on their own across a series of lineup changes. But after a seemingly endless tour in support of their self-titled 2023 debut, their new lineup of Bingham, Fenton, percussionist Luna, guitarists Nate Punty and Orville Neeley III, and drummer Julian Smith gelled to the point that the co-founders decided to bring everyone into the room for the writing process. “It really helped give color and energy to the whole record,” Fenton says. The results are nothing short of ecstatic, bounding between new wave burn, indie rock swagger, old-school punk, and even dub and hip-hop flourishes. The thumping rhythm and chunky guitar riffs of album highlight "At My Funeral" showcase that evolved fusion, as well as Bingham’s trademark self-deprecating sense of humor. “At my funeral/ Nobody came/ Everybody knew/ My shit was lame,” he deadpans, as Punty and Neely’s guitars ping-pong to each headphone. The following track, “Automatic”, utilizes similarly muscly, Clash-indebted guitars, though this time pairs a neon dance punk swagger with a Killers-esque soaring chorus. Another major factor in RUDE’s amplified genre experimentation came in the studio, with Spiritual Cramp working with a producer for the first time. After chatting with a few different potential collaborators, the band were passed Grammy-winning producer John Congleton’s information. “I didn’t know if it would be a good fit. I’m a high-intensity guy and he seems pretty mellow,” Bingham says. “I like working with other insane people, but I learned he’s crazy in the studio. When we met he started talking about Stiff Little Fingers, the Stranglers, and Public Enemy, and I know he’s done everything from indie rock to hip-hop. We’re basically a ‘70s punk band inspired by rap, so it was a perfect match.” That collision is exemplified in the giddy, DEVO-addled “Young Offenders”, where pulsing electronics and a stuttery bridge underpin a fist-pumping punk chorus. “Expensive clothes/ Explosive fights/ There’s no better place everything will be just fine/ Just another warm San Francisco night/ Where everyday is the best day of my life,” Bingham rahs, like a sarcastic anthem for yuppie expansion. Throughout RUDE, the tracks feel dense and lush, though always full of light and life. “We got crazy in the studio this time,” Fenton says. Perhaps the wildest surprise, though, comes via guest vocals from a collaborator that might be unexpected for many listeners: Sharon Van Etten. Bingham and his wife became friends with the indie singer-songwriter after their move to Los Angeles, and the unlikely pairing sounds absolutely fated on the slow-burning “You’ve Got My Number”. Bingham and Van Etten trade lines in the smoky verses, building to a thunderous blend of staccato vocals and thumping percussion at the chorus. “You’ve got my number/ But you won’t call me,” they sigh on the deftly heartbroken track, before transforming some wordless “ba da ba” into the musical equivalent of putting on a brave face after a breakup. “People sometimes think of us as ‘just’ a punk band, but we love indie rock and were so honored Sharon would sing on one of our songs,” Bingham says. “For whatever reason I thought a reggae song with a big rock chorus would be perfect for her, and she sounds incredible.” And for the Spiritual Cramp singer, it’s more than just vocal admiration. “I’ve always said I want to be the Sharon Van Etten of punk,” he smiles. “She’s the coolest, and it’s all about doing things thoughtfully and with integrity instead of being some famous celebrity.” Whether it’s on the riotously fun self-loathing anthem “I Hate the Way That I Look” or the delightfully dubby “Violence in the Supermarket”, it’s clear not only that Spiritual Cramp are following that honest artistic path, but they’re doing so by constantly pushing the boundaries of their musical world. “Sometimes we’d write something and everyone in the room would think it was totally nuts,” Fenton laughs. “And then we’d finish it, and it was great to realize we weren’t crazy.” And while they continue evolving, the witty, fun-loving heart of Spiritual Cramp keeps the engine running. “As a band, we have a cool thing that people like, but we can always get better,” Bingham says. “People who listen know where we stand, and this record paints a picture of what it feels like to be in Spiritual Cramp."