Sugar
File Under: Easy Listening
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Sugar
File Under: Easy Listening
Rykodisc, 1994
RiYL: Cheap Trick, Replacements, Swervedriver |
Then, with a chip on his shoulder and no expectations, Mould returned to what he did best. He started a power trio, Sugar. They got signed to Rykodisc, an indie label, but one that revered Mould and pushed him to their limits. Sugar delivered with Copper Blue, nearly as strong as Husker Du's best and sporting the finest pop hooks of Mould's career. Radio, and record buyers, responded. Bob Mould was finally a star.
His response (after the really angry EP Beaster, which was recorded during the same sessions for Copper Blue) was an exuberant pop record, one he'd maybe been sheepish about recording before. Certainly you'd think he'd have it in him.
Regardless of whether it was overdue or not, File Under: Easy Listening is an accomplishment, one of the '90s most unfairly overlooked records. It's not as epic as Husker's finest hour, 1984's Zen Arcade, but it's a hell of a lot tighter, and with some surprisingly fine lyrics and singing by Mould.
The crushing "Gift," the loudest song on the album and also one of the best, isn't totally indicative of Sugar's new poppy direction, but it does bury a great deal of melodicism under its monster, distended guitar riff. Malcolm Travis, one of my favorite drummers, is remarkable not for his invention or dexterity but for his sheer relentlessness.
"Gift" roars like a runaway train, and the reason is Travis and bassist David Barbe. No slight to Husker Du's Grant Hart (who's a way, way better songwriter than David Barbe) and Greg Norton, but these guys are unstoppable. Husker Du's fastest numbers had a tendency to blur. With Travis and Barbe, Sugar's songs do no such thing. The beat is as constant, solid, and unavoidable as if Big Black's drum machine was doing the timekeeping rather than two humans.
The rhythm section's strength shows in a different way through most of File Under: Easy Listening. These songs are much slower and gentler than the early Sugar, and are given far more room to develop. Rather than slowing down and noodling, Barbe and Travis play just as solidly as before, allowing Mould's expansive guitar to worry about filling in the space.
Consequently, Sugar's poppiest songs sound different than anyone else's -- there's more drive and more rhythm, even to the gentlest ballad. "Explode And Make Up" and "Believe What You're Saying" aren't rushed, but they have a certain thrust to them that's unusual, and worth singling out.
That said, this is still Mould's band, and this is his album (Barbe's lone compositional contribution "Company Book" is an utterly harmless and undistinguished change of pace). "Gee Angel" mixes a deft hook that would sound out of place on a Husker Du record (too much subtlety) and some classic Travis pounding to high pop reward.
"Your Favorite Thing" features an insanely catchy guitar riff and some of the best lyrics in Mould's long series of self-deprecating love songs: "What do I need to do? / I'll sit on a bookcase in your room / Alone with all your other favorite things." "Granny Cool" features another monster riff, some throbbing, swinging Travis stickwork, and pretty funny lyrics about preening 50-year old rockers.
Throughout, Mould seems to be having the time of life, whether it's in the unrushed strum of his guitar or the newfound sense of humor in his lyrics. No one deserves to find joy in his music more than Bob Mould, and that's why it's such a shame Sugar broke up while touring for in support of this album.
MARK T.R. DONOHUE | Mark T.R. Donohue is a prolific freelance writer whose areas of expertise include Rockies baseball, video games, genre television, English soccer, and pub rock. He lives in Colorado, where he cultivates the largest and creepiest private collection of Alyson Hannigan memorabilia in the Mountain West.