The godfathers of grunge head towards their twentieth anniversary with the release of their brand new album. So what can you expect? Well, what do you think?! Despite the presence of horns and harmonies (including the contributions from jazz legend Mose Allison's daughter Amy), Mudhoney's eighth album is a highly-charged set of dense, fuzzy riffs, screeching vocals and ripped-jean rock.
You don't have to be the best to win, you just have to win, something I'm sure Mark Arm, Steve Turner et al must be painfully aware of by now. Taking the baton from the awesome Green River they produced the first fully realized grunge record, Superfuzz Bigmuff in 1988. And still to this day it remains arguably the best release the genre ever saw and is certainly better than Nevermind, Ten or Superunknown. But fast forward nearly 18 years and where is Arm now? Working in the basement of Sub Pop records, packing crates, surrounded by stacks of albums recorded by people who followed in his footsteps.
Luckily he's been allowed a sabbatical to get the old boys back together to record this absolute gem of an album, and seeing he's doing it for Sub Pop, they know he's not wasting his time. Clean of drugs and booze, this record is one of those rare things; a mature effort that doesn't sound toothless; rather precise and vitriolic. 'Where Is The Future' seems to capture this angry mood of bitterness, but the sound is balanced out by a horn section as if the Stooges had signed to Stax in 1972. In fact Craig Flory's work on the horn section is what takes a good set of songs and turns them into a cohesively great album.
As well as the internalized bile ('Empty Shells') there is also a new-found interest in the world stage ('Hard On For War', 'It Is Us') but of course it is the renewed dynamism that Arm and Turner seemed to regain on Since We've Become Translucent that really pleases here. 'In Search Of' manages to sound like all things cosmic and rock from Sabbath to Hawkwind, while never sounding anything other than hungry and taut. Fittingly, for a band who have just equaled their best nearly twenty years into their career, they save the best song until last. 'Blindspots' again recalls The Stooges, MC5 trashing their gear at the end of a set before suddenly being ushered off stage by Wilson Picket's backing band to soothe the riotous mob with honeyed soul music. A fabulous record, even if slightly comparable to a really superb looking tree falling over in the middle of a deserted forest.
According to Sub Pop this one is more political-fueled yet maintains their “thick, soggy punk riffs and underrated guitar dynamics, psychedelic tangents and snot-nosed finger-pointing.” I'd say that's spot-on. |