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Bob Mould, "Life And Times"
Twenty years removed from his landmark solo debut Workbook, the former Hüsker Dü frontman belatedly produces another album worthy enough to bear his name, after a lengthy string of middling efforts. A mix of vibrant uptempo rockers and hooky ballads, it displays his maturation free of the masturbatory electronica and incredibly uneven songwriting that sullied his legacy these past eleven years.
One must be a truly devoted and deluded fan to appreciate what Bob Mould has done since the dissolution of Sugar, his nonpareil power pop trio. While never losing his charm, the unexceptional songs on The Last Dog and Pony Show and Modulate simply couldn't match the magnificence of Black Sheets of Rain or Workbook. Much has been said about Mould's insistence on blending electronics into his otherwise traditional alterna-rock formula, and there's little reason at this point to dwell on the less-than-stellar results of his experimentation, other than to say it digressed more than a little uncomfortably towards some sort of Fall Out Boy / Good Charlotte pantomime. After all, Life and Times, his new album, is by far the finest of his post-Sugar discography.
Like last year's half-bad District Line and the genuinely mediocre Body of Song before it, the record kicks off with a terrific opener, in this case the downright romantic title track. Yet unlike the subsequent fizzling-out trend that defined that aforementioned duo of albums, Life and Times amazingly gets even better as it goes along. Both "The Breach" and "City Lights" effortlessly balance his Americana leanings with that unmistakable desire to rock out when the chorus comes around. But things get particularly exhilarating when the opening guitar plucking of "MM 17" rapidly shifts into a raucous rocker replete with overdriven chords and even some fetching soloing. While Mould hasn't completely abandoned the use of synthesizers—unsurprising given his continuing DJ career—he puts them to good, subtle use here. "Argos" is the real shocker, though: a straightforward two-minute punk ditty that resurrects Hüsker Dü for this side of the millennium. It really ought to be the next single for this record, as it deserves modern rock radio play and, yes, even one of those newfangled music videos I've been hearing so much about.
Like its recent predecessors, Life and Times is weighed down by overproduction, though the durability of these memorable, accessible songs counters much of that upon repeat listens. Considering the lushly dissonant closer "Lifetime," I long for something less gratuitously slathered in showy studio effects. It's been two decades since Mould gave us something stripped down with soul-bearing / soul-searching honesty. The appropriate way to follow up Life and Times, the fulfillment of the sound he's been earnestly crafting this century, would be to return to a stark sound that best complements that bruised, beautiful heart.
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