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."