The world didn't need another romantic blues-rock combo; surely not one from Massachusetts, anyway. That said, Drug Rug managed to juice a bit of feeling and a couple of pretty great string-benders out of the too-familiar sound on their self-titled debut. It's a fine listen, but it's the kind of record where you could feel as though you were digging on the constituent elements-- Sarah Cronin's voice, the neo-primitive production, the occasional guitar stab-- rather than taking in a fully functioning song at play.
Cronin still gets in a few howls and the occasional mewl, and Drug Rug's songs still have a loose, easygoing charm to them, but you'd be forgiven (and wrong) if you presumed a lineup change prior to the band's sophomore set, Paint the Fence Invisible. Nothing on Drug Rug predicted the bratty, almost Be Your Own Pet-like "Hannah, Please" or the New Pornographers-indebted rush of "Haunting You", but it's an easy shock to bear; Paint the Fence Invisible is maybe half as weird as its predecessor, but roughly twice as tuneful, and a hell of a lot more fun.
After the shimmering but slight opener, "Follow", "Haunting You" rushes right out of the gate, buoyed by an insistent guitar chug and Cronin and Tommy Allen's tight harmonies; good as Cronin sounded on her own on Drug Rug, her voice sounds incredible when meshed with Allen's, and it's too bad she doesn't get more mic time here. "Never Tell" carries some of the twang over from the first LP but matches it with a steady stomp missing from the comparatively languid debut. There's a buzzy organ at the heart of "Blue Moon" that'd fall right into place on a ? and the Mysterians record, while "Passes On" has all the thud of Steppenwolf until the recorders drift in. This sonic expansion works in a couple of directions; another record like the debut would've meant a creative flatline, but Drug Rug always feel like a duo, and it's precisely enough ambition and sonic tinkering for two people making their second LP.
One can't help but think of occasional Drug Rug tourmates Dr. Dog when hearing Invisible, a solid power-pop record largely devoid of any influence from the past three decades. Both bands certainly borrow liberally from late-60s production style and song structure, and both are so competent, so adept at placing hooks and solos and such in their "proper" place, it can leave you a little cold. But Drug Rug have allowed a bit of the drawl of their early work to carry over here, and even when they're playing it fairly straight, there's something slightly twisted about their melodies; if Dr. Dog are gunning for the Beatles, Drug Rug are going for Country Joe & the Fish-- this time. God knows who they'll sound like next.
