Somewhere along the line Mudhoney went quantum, although it's still too early to tell whether they're stumbling towards oblivion or reaching for enlightenment. On 2002's Since We've Become Translucent and here again on Under A Billion Suns, this added cosmic awareness is quantified in … a horn and sax section. That's a strange move for a group that has steadfastly defended a muddy fort of loud guitar rock to ride Mark Arm's atonal, occasionally abrasive and always indifferent howl.
If Mudhoney were to claim that they invented grunge, it would be about
as credible as Al Gore's assertion that he invented the Internet,
although the statements would be similar in context. Al Gore was
certainly doing something on planet Earth around the time the Internet
sprang up, and likewise Mudhoney was busy tearing up the Seattle scene
and probably pissing off the local law in the late 1980s – around the
time and place that grunge took on its current lexical significance.
That's about as firm as things get for a band that seems to have a
love-hate relationship with itself: at times ironic (their addition to
the soundtrack for Cameron Crowe's 1992 film “Singles” was “Overblown,”
an angry punk piece that trashed the entire scene/decade) and often
schizophrenic in dealing with their own commercial failure in the wake
of the grunge bubble. That they're releasing an album at all in 2006 is
miraculous (longtime bassist Matt Lukin quit before the 2002 release
and is replaced here by Guy Maddison, which I suppose isn't as serious
as losing an Arm), and equally satisfying is that they've come full
circle to land again on the incomparable Sub Pop.
With an outsider status as the catalyst for inspiration, Mudhoney's
charm has always been that of the ugly kid who could run circles around
you with smarmy wit. This is what makes the joyless opener “Where is
the Future?” so depressing – dour, angry guitar precedes an
uncharacteristically pessimistic Arm: "Where is the future that was
promised us?/I'm sick to death of this one." Has Mudhoney lost their
wicked-tongued enthusiasm? Do they pine for a success that is deserved
of long-toiling but obscure rockers? Not that you can tell if he's
lying, or that he's even convincing in any way other than the fact that
he probably doesn't prescribe to any traditional sense of happiness,
but Arm proclaims that "happy days are here again" on follow-up “It Is
Us.” It's the slow-moving guitar sludge and pouting that trip up some
of the early tracks (“Endless Yesterday”), but Mudhoney shakes through
it with boogie and chant on album standout “On the Move.” You won't
catch them referencing their actual band name in any lyrics or song
titles, but they're one of the few non-rap acts to at least acknowledge
their existence and legacy through the use of a pronoun: "We are so
outside we're on the inside."
Under a Billion Suns would have been a catastrophe had it been dragged
down by loneliness, so it's a relief that Mudhoney celebrates their
condition on “I Saw the Light,” as Arm half-asses a vocal-only Elvis
swing to an affect that is probably as strange as you are imagining.
The career-encapsulating radio-punk instrumental “A Brief Celebration
of Indifference” is one of the tightest arrangements on the album, and
Arm unchains over sax and Sabbath as “Let's Drop In” reaches an
unexpectedly mature crescendo. Channeling Black Sabbath again, “Hard-On
for War” flows and stings like “War Pigs.” Don't worry if the politics
are half-baked, they're consistent in their horny rabble-rousing and
that's all that really matters. With the real men off fighting, Arm and
company find that they're the best of what's left: "These lovely
lonesome ladies/They don't ignore me anymore …/I'm the only game in
town/And it's so easy to score."
Mudhoney, now in their third decade, are eight studio albums, two
compilations (2000's March to Fuzz is a great place to start) and one
market collapse deep, and here releasing another punk record on the
backside of a decade that has yet to define itself musically. So while
the horns are playfully mature, that's not what it's about. It's about
sickness and hangovers not being mutually exclusive and taking out your
anger at the establishment on a lonely serviceman's wife. Trendy
hipsters will trash anything right up until it goes retro, but it's all
just a variation of everything else. Don't tell me that grunge is dated
unless you're prepared to make the same argument about rock and roll.
Maybe Mudhoney will lash out against time on their next album, but they
won't have to convince me of anything – really dirty punk rock never
gets old.
Sound
I had a problem with some of the bleak, murky guitar noise that kicks
off the album, but as things progress, Steve Turner's typically crisp
guitar cuts are as loud and lively as ever. Dan Peters' drum crack is
dominant, loud and consistently awesome (“I Saw the Light,” “Endless
Yesterday,” “Empty Shells”), and Mark Arm has a punk voice that no
amount of production can or should touch and no amount of aging seems
to effect. Under a Billion Suns is cleaner than their earlier releases,
but it's still uglier and angrier than anything you're likely to hear
on the radio. The horn section surprisingly doesn't take off any of the
edge (except for the jazzy ending to album closer “Blindspots”), even
helping to close out some of the earlier tracks that otherwise might
have landed awkwardly (“Where is the Future?”), and going positively
epic on “Let's Drop In.”
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