Life > February 28, 2008

By Erik Forseth | Contributing writer

Among the many divisionals I took freshman year, few stood out like my religion class. The professor was terrific, but one of my most vivid memories from the course — I’m a little embarrassed to admit — has nothing to do with the subject matter. The professor, excited about an upcoming concert, asked the class if we were familiar with Bob Mould.

click to enlarge

I don’t recall many signs of recognition among my classmates, but when the words “Hüsker Dü” were mentioned, I’m guessing a few ears perked up.

Bob Mould is easily most well-known as the former guitar player and co-songwriter of that band, a sublime outfit of such undeniable genius that it’s difficult to know how to properly describe their work and how to come to terms with their legacy.

Unfortunately, he’s not nearly as well-known for the rest of his remarkable body of work.

Mould released two solo albums after Hüsker Dü’s 1988 breakup (check out the astounding Workbook), and from 1992-1994 his band Sugar released two melodic full-length albums, which ought to be owned by anybody whose “Favorite Music” section on Facebook includes something to the effect of “early ‘90s alternative rock.”

Guitar players: take note as well. To my mind, Sugar’s application of colossal guitar-playing to straight-ahead pop music ranks them alongside My Bloody Valentine and The Jesus and Mary Chain.

Mould’s solo work has been varied and more difficult to categorize than his ensemble work, alternately featuring intense acoustic confessionals, flirtations with electronic music culminating with 2002’s Modulate and a good heaping of the guitar-based pop song-writing for which he’s so often acclaimed.

The new disc, District Line, like 2005’s Body of Song, is much more in this last vein than anything else Mould has done for quite some time.

Electronic touches are still present, though, and more evident on some songs than others. “Stupid Now,” the opening tune, is a good example of the balance on much of the album — a relatively direct rocker, the song explodes into an incredibly memorable refrain dressed up in a panoply of effects.

“Shelter Me,” on the other hand, is almost entirely electronic and extremely dance-friendly.

This sort of thing should come as no surprise; Mould does a considerable amount of live DJ work. The record is closed out by “Walls in Time,” a passionate acoustic number that has supposedly been in Mould’s live repertoire for some number of years now.

Live drumming on the album is handled by Fugazi’s Brendan Canty. With Fugazi, Canty and bassist Joe Lally formed the pulsing glue for a band which was always extraordinarily rhythmic, and while there isn’t much of an opportunity for Canty to stretch out here, his playing is reliably excellent.

Throughout the record, Mould continues to write powerfully about human relationships.

From my perspective, one of the most compelling things about the musicians, involved in the hard-core and post hard-core musical periods of the 1980s was the depth of feeling that they plumbed in so much of that work and their work after the dissolution of those bands.

Hüsker Dü was among the most furious and abrasive of hard-core groups at one point, and yet Mould and drummer/co-songwriter Grant Hart turned out to be gay.

These artists have continually defied the expectations of those dismissive of hard-core, and Bob Mould has been consistently surprising and delightful.

District Line is simply another testament to this depth. Mould’s intensity is starting sometimes – this is nothing new -– but this record is an uplifting musical affair.

I’ll be surprised if I hear a new release that I play more often this Spring.