Rubs, The

***Oh how we’ve missed The Rubs, let us count the ways! One of the finest of Chicago’s last wave of rock’n roll resuscitation of the late 2010s, who uprooted the whole project for greener pastures in Kansas City, MO, yet still continues to churn forth incredible hooks by the bucketload, no matter where they land. Here we have the anxiously awaited third long-player, still entirely written, composed, and performed by the one-man-army that is Joey Rubbish, and still creating those invigorating waves of euphoria you’ve come to know and love from this essential hit-machine. After settling into a new living situation in a new city, the hits just kept pouring out, and as the dust settled after several reconfigurations over the next years, the DUST LP finally took its final, gleaming form, as the LP you have here. Another knockout collection of pristine pop bangers laced with mesmerizing guitar and/or sizzling mellotron solos, woven into impossibly contagious harmonies that should effectively put the CDC on high alert. And as The Rubs have always had a clear window open on the meat-grinder of influences, with this outing you’ll feel whisps of the ethereal late 60s Kinks, as well as Thin Lizzy-esque soft explosions twisting effortlessly around core-revitalizing melodic exercises that might even make the Everlys blush with envy. DUST is one of those eternal records that seems like its always been here, and will always remain, its just always been behind a corner you hadn’t looked around yet. The sheer quality of these tracks and seamless execution are a marvel of the modern world’s DIY ethos in practice. There don’t seem to be many folks making records this brutally simple and honest in these sad, sad times, and its our hope that DUST’s hypnotic allure sticks to you as well, as it always has that tendency to do in a world of endless static electricity.