Once, in New York City, I met Britt Daniel, Spoon’s singer and main songwriter.

It was 2018, my first time in the Big Apple, and only my third day on the trip, and he crossed the door of a Starbucks on Lower West Side in Manhattan. I had just stopped to charge my phone and guard myself against the rain, and suddenly I was greeting the frontman of one of my favorite bands of the last several years. It was not surprising that he was kind and he suggested we take a picture (!), what was surprising is that no one else in the room knew who he was, or at least didn’t show it. That, in my opinion, summarizes Spoon.

This band from Austin, Texas, active since 1993 is one of the most acclaimed rock acts of the century and at the same time severely underrated. Their consistency is maddening, releasing at least since 1998’s A Series of Sneaks a string of solid rock records with a few good ones and several great ones. They have an outstanding ability to manufacture hooks, arranging their instrumentation at the point of perfectionism. All this, never demeaning their intention to explore and transform their paths through their songs, combining along with their tight indie-rock numbers, ethereal keyboard tunes and instrumental tracks of dark intentions.

Lucifer On The Sofa is their 10th record and it’s safe to say that it keeps their punchy immediacy alive and, as a southern aesthetic drenches the album and their guitars are more present than in at least their 3 last releases, the album is quite propulsive and notably gnarlier than its two predecessors. Many tracks here court a ‘back-to-basics’ aesthetic, but this being Spoon, those ‘basics’ are not especifically rooted in a sound, and where 2017’s Hot Thoughts saw the band going further in different, more uncommon sonic directions without sacrificing their inherent stability, Lucifer on The Sofa does the same in the opposite direction, never actually settling for a relatable kind of indie rock.

Opener ‘Held’ is a cover of Smog, the former moniker of the excellent Bill Callahan. The cover is greatly accomplished, the songwriting never losing its spark, and still Spoon giving the track their full vibe. That’s immediately followed by the first single to promote Lucifer on The Sofa, ‘The Hardest Cut’. An energetic, and well-written song that covers the ‘back-to-basics’ formula more than any other song on the record only to be broken by a thunderous break of distorted riffs. The track is groovy, a solid introduction to the album and showcase the Spoon’s inherent hability to just rock when they want to.

Following cut, ‘The Devil & Mister Jones’ infuses more of the band’s personality. The rhythm is a lot more fluid, the bass-line piercing and the guitars are more relegated. Britt Daniel’s voice, a little echoic and distant as he, in his particular funky way, describes the entitled character’s intentions. Daniel’s lyricism has always been uniquely unattached, except when he is actually focused on a person, subject or theme, but one of the other things Lucifer on The Sofa excells at is maintaining that enigmatic trait characteristic to Spoon’s music. Nevertheless, when Daniel’s songwriting reads more focused it still can be pretty engaging.

‘Wild’ is a perfect example. Widely describing the confusion an need for clarification embedded to surfing the social turmoil these days, the song shines in its anachronistic instrumental build-up. Embellished by an engaging piano, the song grows steadily, harnessing its propulsing rhythm resulting in one of the most satisfying tracks on the album. The other aspect ‘Wild’ represents is how a well-known and used trope can be transformed by Spoon with their penchant to give indie-rock an underlying sense of originality, an ability that is common to all their discography. On Lucifer on The Sofa this is also evident on the slower cuts. Second single ‘My Babe’, in which Daniel affectingly describes his feelings for a significant other, and the more ethereal ‘Astral Jacket’ are a subdued but still very enjoyable couple of ballads.

The album is quite consistent and toweringly solid from front to back. It maybe more limited than its predecessor, but when Spoon want to do things well they rarely fail. This doesn’t necessarily means that Lucifer on The Sofa is boring, on the contrary, Britt Daniel’s songwriting, perfectly balanced with Jim Eno’s drums and Alex Fischel’s varied instrumentation are arranged in a way that keeps the album going on unabashedly and swiftly. This is also proven by the end. The penultimate track ‘Satellite’ could be considered the album’s sweeping coda. A ballad still in the traditional way, but produced to sound heavier than it could on itself, it is definitely a major highlight. Daniel’s imagery about being on the surroundings of a loved one that puts well-defined limits is arresting and immediate.The title track, the longest cut on the record, closes the album in a gentler way than expected, but it seems fitting and allows Spoon to relax its perfectionism in the loosest song on the record.

In this writer’s opinion, it would be unjust to deem Spoon as only a dependable and solid rock band. Record after record they’ve managed to find different approaches to their, yes, consistently excellent songwriting. But in that regard, they are rare. More than two decades in, their 10th record sounds fresh and approachable (like the friendly attitude of their frontman while buying coffee), something only a handful of acts actually achieve. Lucifer on The Sofa doesn’t suffer of a lack of ideas or a reductive songwriting consequence of a struggle to maintain relevancy. It is also not perfect, but that could be said of every Spoon album. Many could agree and pinpoint some of their 2000s albums as their best, because yes, the band does not sound at this point avid to reach the highs that gave them the substantial acclaim they have today. However, amazingly so, they are still unapologetically Spoon: a seasoned, appealing and passionate rock band that strives, on every record, to keep it that way. This is a commendable goal in today’s independent music landscape, and Lucifer on The Sofa is sound proof that they excel at it.