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Blowoff "Saturday Night All the Time"

Thursday, September 7, 2006

Has anyone ever taken such a detour from where he started as Bob Mould? I’m listening to Blowoff right now (the title alone sounds like an early-80s murder-mystery that takes place in and around a hair salon), and I can’t think of anyone who jumped into a farther away genre puddle than going from searing, intellectual hardcore (Land Speed Record through, er, Flip Your Wig I guess sorta) to pretty pop-electro that would sound more like an American Erlend Oye if it didn’t have the relentless optimism of United State of Electronica. Seriously, Mould’s staking a claim to be the only artist ever to fit into the category of “post-hardcore fabulous.” He’s got a blog that I’m pretty sure I link to (ed: yes I do link there), and it’s as entertaining to read him write about restaurants he likes and how he spilled a cosmo at a bar as about playing music and touring and stuff, because while he used to howl out “Something I Learned Today” at dingy clubs, now he’s a hip 40 year old dude who sings strobe-light party jams like “Saturday Night All the Time” (mp3). When the siren kicks in after a few seconds, soon followed by the acid-soul electric piano, I can’t help but imagining Mould and his friends dancing around and getting sweaty with a bunch of kids who have no idea that they’re partying with the dude from fucking Husker Du. Seriously, more than any quality of the music itself, I like listening to this because I’m happy that Bob Mould is enjoying himself. Husker Du was a pretty big part of a pretty great and crucial part of my life, and while I liked most of Grant Hart’s songs all right, Mould’s personally resonated with me much more. Even a weird one like “Eiffel Tower High” packed as much punch as “Chartered Trips” or, shit I forgot that Sugar could be pretty great every once in a while too. So it’s cool to think that Mould’s not adopting the traditional rock trope of just playing his old style lighter and crappier, and with the wisdom of time or whatever (at some point, I’ll comment further on how Paul Simon is now Death Cab’s Dad). He’s instead taking a 90 degree turn, risking the alienation of the base who wants him to start playing guitar again (but in the process gaining a wholly new fabulous one instead, don’t forget) and sort of re-living a parallel-universe youth that he might have lived if his had somehow progressed significantly differently and he fell in with Prince and Morris Day’s crowd in Minneapolis. Regardless of any of this, I do not want to hear a 12″ remix of “Makes No Sense At All” as the b-side of something from this album, so just scrap that idea.

Buy Blowoff here. Myspace.

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