Under a Billion Suns
Mudhoney
(Sub Pop)
Is it just me, or with every passing year does Mudhoney sound less like the "grunge godfathers" of yore and more like a natural progression from the Asheton/Asheton/Alexander lineup of the Stooges? Granted, this observation is nothing new - singer Mark Arm's delivery has been called "Iggyesque" about as often as his howl has been called "wolfish" or his visage "hawklike" - but since 2002's Since We Became Translucent the tendency has begun to cross over from mere resemblance to full-on torch-passing; and with that album's Fun House saxophone squalls and garage-damaged psychedelia now four years behind us, never has Arm and company's heir apparent status been more pronounced. Their latest album, Under a Billion Suns, sounds for all the world like a junker Seattlean spaceship cropdusting Detroit's condemned Grande Ballroom. And with its lyrics of sci-fi/wartime apocalyptic doom, one imagines that's the intention.
Yeah, I just said "wartime." That's because, if the bullet-riddled logo on the sleeve isn't indication enough, A Billion Suns is Mudhoney's most explicity and completely "political" record to date; a fact which might make closed-minded fans of good ol' grunge nihilism uncomfortable (and has). But for those of us who realize that there's no excuse for men in their '40s to keep writing songs like "Touch Me, I'm Sick," this new topicality just might be a blessing in disguise. Mudhoney keep it basic and to the point, with lyrics all the more chilling for their simplicity. The opening lines alone are stunners: "I was born on an airforce base, 1962 / a rocket launched into outer space knocked me outta the womb," Arm intones on "Where is the Future," weaving a sarcastic Gen-X creation myth for some very troubled times. Meanwhile, on "Empty Shells" he moans, "our souls took off and left us behind / that's when we lost our hearts and our minds"; the ironic Vietnam allusions an unmissable subtext in a war when the homeland's complicity is more important than that of the people being "liberated." Taken together, these songs paint quite a picture: a world on the cusp of destruction, driven by "dirty old men" who substitute war for sublimated sex, where the only cause for hope might just be our own righteous anger. Who's the enemy? "It Is Us." And it'd be a pretty bleak science fiction story, if it wasn't all so true.
Of course, all this high-minded proselytizing wouldn't mean shit if it wasn't backed with musical muscle to match, and in that category A Billion Suns far from disappoints. First and foremost, it's the most savage Mudhoney has sounded in years; raw and visceral in ways Translucent only suggested, with less of that previous record's sprawl and more fireball intensity. Even the instrumental filler track, "A Brief Celebration of Indifference," throbs impressively with a primal bass and tambourine pulse. As on Translucent, there's also the odd instrumental flavoring in the mix: the horns, a welcome addition to Mudhoney's sound, return in a big way on the guttural/transcendent "Let's Drop In" and grand finale "Blindspots." Then there's "Endless Yesterday" - home of the album's titular "billion suns" reference, and a cleverly literal-minded plea for a past romance - which dresses its vaguely surf-like shuffle in touches of mallet percussion reminiscent of (you guessed it) Iggy & The Stooges' "Penetration."
Best of all, though, is album centerpiece "On the Move," which rides a taut, propulsive bassline all the way to an explosive call to action; probably the most exciting rock'n'roll moment 2006 has given us yet. And when they hit the chanted refrain - "we are so outside, we're on the inside" - the words could easily sum up Mudhoney's career itself. Almost twenty years on from Superfuzz Bigmuff, they're still our greatest outsider rockers: not just capable of making a lot of noise, but able to surprise with it, too. Those looking for signs of decline on this, their seventh full-length, are in for a disappointment - Under a Billion Suns is vital from beginning to end. Now here's hoping they don't pass that torch they got from the Stooges in a long, long time.
Official Site
Buy It
on Amazon
See Also: The Grande Ballroom
(Sub Pop)
Is it just me, or with every passing year does Mudhoney sound less like the "grunge godfathers" of yore and more like a natural progression from the Asheton/Asheton/Alexander lineup of the Stooges? Granted, this observation is nothing new - singer Mark Arm's delivery has been called "Iggyesque" about as often as his howl has been called "wolfish" or his visage "hawklike" - but since 2002's Since We Became Translucent the tendency has begun to cross over from mere resemblance to full-on torch-passing; and with that album's Fun House saxophone squalls and garage-damaged psychedelia now four years behind us, never has Arm and company's heir apparent status been more pronounced. Their latest album, Under a Billion Suns, sounds for all the world like a junker Seattlean spaceship cropdusting Detroit's condemned Grande Ballroom. And with its lyrics of sci-fi/wartime apocalyptic doom, one imagines that's the intention.Yeah, I just said "wartime." That's because, if the bullet-riddled logo on the sleeve isn't indication enough, A Billion Suns is Mudhoney's most explicity and completely "political" record to date; a fact which might make closed-minded fans of good ol' grunge nihilism uncomfortable (and has). But for those of us who realize that there's no excuse for men in their '40s to keep writing songs like "Touch Me, I'm Sick," this new topicality just might be a blessing in disguise. Mudhoney keep it basic and to the point, with lyrics all the more chilling for their simplicity. The opening lines alone are stunners: "I was born on an airforce base, 1962 / a rocket launched into outer space knocked me outta the womb," Arm intones on "Where is the Future," weaving a sarcastic Gen-X creation myth for some very troubled times. Meanwhile, on "Empty Shells" he moans, "our souls took off and left us behind / that's when we lost our hearts and our minds"; the ironic Vietnam allusions an unmissable subtext in a war when the homeland's complicity is more important than that of the people being "liberated." Taken together, these songs paint quite a picture: a world on the cusp of destruction, driven by "dirty old men" who substitute war for sublimated sex, where the only cause for hope might just be our own righteous anger. Who's the enemy? "It Is Us." And it'd be a pretty bleak science fiction story, if it wasn't all so true.
Of course, all this high-minded proselytizing wouldn't mean shit if it wasn't backed with musical muscle to match, and in that category A Billion Suns far from disappoints. First and foremost, it's the most savage Mudhoney has sounded in years; raw and visceral in ways Translucent only suggested, with less of that previous record's sprawl and more fireball intensity. Even the instrumental filler track, "A Brief Celebration of Indifference," throbs impressively with a primal bass and tambourine pulse. As on Translucent, there's also the odd instrumental flavoring in the mix: the horns, a welcome addition to Mudhoney's sound, return in a big way on the guttural/transcendent "Let's Drop In" and grand finale "Blindspots." Then there's "Endless Yesterday" - home of the album's titular "billion suns" reference, and a cleverly literal-minded plea for a past romance - which dresses its vaguely surf-like shuffle in touches of mallet percussion reminiscent of (you guessed it) Iggy & The Stooges' "Penetration."
Best of all, though, is album centerpiece "On the Move," which rides a taut, propulsive bassline all the way to an explosive call to action; probably the most exciting rock'n'roll moment 2006 has given us yet. And when they hit the chanted refrain - "we are so outside, we're on the inside" - the words could easily sum up Mudhoney's career itself. Almost twenty years on from Superfuzz Bigmuff, they're still our greatest outsider rockers: not just capable of making a lot of noise, but able to surprise with it, too. Those looking for signs of decline on this, their seventh full-length, are in for a disappointment - Under a Billion Suns is vital from beginning to end. Now here's hoping they don't pass that torch they got from the Stooges in a long, long time.
Official Site
Buy It
on AmazonSee Also: The Grande Ballroom
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