Mudhoney
My Brother The Cow

THE REVIEW

"Who are these MudhoneyS ?? Are they famous on MTV ??"

Legend has it that these were the words of Bill Clinton when he was told that during his visit to the White House in the year of our Lord 1994, not only would his beloved Pearl Jam be arriving, but also Mark Arm and company. And so, while Vedder and company were received with great pomp by Mister President, the scruffy Mudhoneys were diverted on an alternative tour of the presidential residence, most likely stopping in the basement in search of cans of Budweiser.

The amusing anecdote illustrates well the trajectory of Mudhoney: among the very first to discover the golden vein around Seattle, but too lazy and apathetic to be interested in exploiting its potential, ultimately yielding the spotlight to others. The Seattle quartet also shot themselves in the foot in this regard by releasing their most convoluted and inward-facing album, "Piece of Cake," just after the boom of "Nevermind," a garage-punk fetish of theirs. With "My Brother the Cow," there was a decisive return to form, aided by the concise production of a Jack Endino in shape as in the days of "SuperfuzzBigmuff." Their sound, made of noxious and distorted garage-punk stabs seasoned with harsh proto-hard rock dynamics and a touch of rasping psychedelia, although not offering surprises among these grooves, at least managed to insert some pearls of great value into their repertoire. "My Brother the Cow" was also influenced by the gunshot that marked the definitive watershed in the saga of Seattle: not in an inspired and dramatic way as in Pearl Jam's "Vitalogy," but with the desecrating and combative spirit that has never abandoned the quartet of " Touch me I'm Sick."

The first single released was "Generation Spokesmodel," a brash anti-anthem that mocks the myth of flannel, the MTV-Spin Magazine diarchy, and the supermarket grunge generation, complete with a bitter dedication from Mark Arm to his friend Kurt ("thanks to the guys for making me who I am, twenty percent of the credit goes to that person"). Even more explicit is the mocking "Into yer shtik," where Cobain's widow is invited without much circumlocution to imitate his final step. The best moments, however, can be found in the muddy spiral of "In my finest suit," whose heartrending chords recall the glories of "If I Think" with an irresistible crescendo that sublimates in the refrain " Well I got you, I got a lot to lose," while the curtain falls with the acid-freak whirlwind of "1995," among the scorching guitar throbs of Steve Turner and free winds à la "Fun House." "It's 1995, all right They say I'm lucky to be alive," spits into the microphone with the usual sarcasm Mark Arm. Lucky us too, to still have these incorrigible rascals around.

Rating 3.5