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Today, I'm contributing to properly messing up the homepage; with the irreverent Mudhoney. In anticipation of the new work that will be released at the end of September.
The worldwide success and global spread of that sound, born in the mid-eighties in Seattle and its surroundings, is thanks to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarden. But as far as I'm concerned, the band that best defined the canons of a new musical genre (I've never used the term grunge, which rather annoys me) is undoubtedly Mudhoney. Without ever benefiting from the deserved commercial success; even though Mark Arm and Steve Turner, the two solid minds of the band, have always been completely indifferent to vast audiences and high sales.
As long as there will be a small club, a filthy basement willing to host them, they will attend without caring about acoustics or sound quality, etc... Maximum power distortion, sweat, various filth are the toxic ingredients of a music story that has now reached thirty years of life.
After releasing the double anthology collection "March To Fuzz" in 2000 (what a fucking title!!!), the band was put into a forced rest that lasted a couple of years; but in 2002, a quick return to discography marked by significant novelties. Firstly, they returned to Sub Pop and introduced the new bassist Guy Maddison, replacing the lumberjack Matt Lukin.
The dirty and abrasive sound put together by the four doesn't change one bit.
Ironical and irreverent right from the title of the work: the cover features a series of transparencies placed one above the other in precise order. The final result is a skewed photo depicting the group "out of alignment and slightly out of focus." One of those strokes of genius from the twisted mind of singer Mark.
The presence of an atypical sax opens the first track "Baby, Can You Dig The Light" in the best possible way; outside their normal standards, this Garage-Blues track lasts over eight minutes and drags on obliquely and limping until its end.
Otherwise, I find it completely unnecessary to mention other tracks. We are faced with all those characteristics of a primordial sound that knows no technicality. Impetuous, fuzz-driven, compressed, direct guitars. A wooden, visceral rhythm section with an explosive impact. And then the voice, that voice of Mark so tense, scratchy, vitriolic, sandpaper-like, overflowing with raw filth.
Stage animals with that desecrating Punk energy still rooted, which has always distinguished Mudhoney's musical career, starting from that sensational 1988 single that you should all know...I hope.
...Fuck Me I'm Sick...
Diabolos Rising 666.
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