As clichéd as it can sound, some things are worth the wait. If you’re like many people in Calgary, you’ve been waiting patiently for a followup to Günther’s four-song EP The Greatest Televised Swordsman I've Seen In Years ever since it was released three years ago. No one’s been waiting longer than Günther themselves, though, having recorded what would become their followup, Nuclear Stallions, more than two years ago.

Drummer Scott Moffat, guitarist Colin Mitchell and bassist Scott Munro should be proud. Though the album’s cover may be lacking the skeleton stallions riding skeleton stallions they initially conceived (they replaced that idea with tasteful artwork by Jessye Cook and Peter Komierowski), the music inside is truly righteous. Where The Greatest Televised Swordsman felt like a fairly straight-ahead instrumental rock album, Nuclear Stallions pushes boundaries, incorporating elements of noise, jazz and avant-garde. There are horn arrangements, tape loops, static, handclaps and a Hammond B3.

They’re still an instrumental band, and no, they haven’t misplaced their vocalist — though you will find some “heys” in “Confronting Cubism,” which more than any track on the 11-song album hearkens back to the days of The Greatest Televised Swordsman. At a time when Canadian instrumental bands (Holy Fuck, Do Make Say Think and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, to name just a few) are gaining unprecedented popularity, it’s a small wonder that some audiences are still put off by the fact that Günther is vocalist-less. Step outside of Canada and the pool becomes even larger, with Tortoise, Dirty Three, Mogwai and Explosions in the Sky. These are bands where the question “where’s your singer, man?” is never uttered.

Moffat isn’t bothered by the question. Rather than giving a straightforward answer, though, he discusses the strange universality of lyric-less music — and it’s more than just that major keys equal happiness and minor chords are sad.

“I find that with instrumental music, it’s less about the image and more about the music,” says Moffat. “I mean, there’s something that happens when we’re onstage. The fact that we’re throwing so much energy out into the audience and that they’re dishing it right back to us without having to depend on a singer out in front — there’s something amazing about that. It happens all the time to musicians that play only instrumental music. I mean, people were listening to classical music for hundreds of years and no one complained about there being no words. Why make a big deal about it now?”

Why indeed? There’s certainly enough drum crashes, droning guitar riffs and pounding bass lines for any fan of instrumental post-rock, and though “post” anything can seem like a dirty word, there’s much to be said for the atmospheric tangents that slide lazily through the album, introducing songs and serving as interludes in between the tracks proper. The noisy breakdown in “(I'd Like to) Buy Some Science,” which seamlessly transitions into a dirge of tape loop static, acts as an eerie introduction to album-closer “Why Pedestrians Lie.” Emotional manipulation made easier for Günther by their increased aural arsenal (thanks in part to some nifty horn arrangements by Jay Crocker) and really, they’re just getting started. Rumours will abound that Günther is done, as bassist Munro — who seemingly plays the majority of Calgary’s bands — makes the move to Vancouver. Moffat’s not worried, though. He sees it as only fair since he was allowed a sabbatical for an extended trip to Asia.

Whatever the future holds, it’s looking decidedly bright. There’s already a 7-inch recorded and waiting in the wings, ready to be released in the winter, plus a Canadian tour to be planned and maybe a cover project of Weezer’s Pinkerton. What is certain is that Günther is about a trio of friends that live together, play together without pressure or pretense and find freedom onstage.

“The future of the band is never in question,” Moffat happily declares. “We have the freedom to always do what we want to do…. Günther’s been around for years, [since] me and Colin lived on the same street and Günther was a ska band.”

If a band can survive ska, well they can survive anything.