New Grey Rising (continued)

The WCW job lasted less than a year, and it was a while before he released his next album, 2002’s Modulate. By then the economy had tanked and Modulate’s dim cover of a grimy waterfront scene seemed to echo the country’s mood. The crystalline music was something else entirely, neither rock nor folk and certainly not punk. Mould, a known tinkerer in the studio who’d always been fond of layering sounds, had fallen for electronic music, and while his Modulate songs could be as bracing as anything by Husker Du or Sugar, there was definitely a lack of his trademark "Big Guitar," except on a couple of songs. Fans were divided, as they usually are, but I thought it was a fine piece of work though I didn’t listen to it much.

An acoustic album was due to be released that same year called Body of Song, but it never materialized. Instead he released an electronica album under the pseudonym LoudBomb. Released on his own Granary label, the record never showed up at my neighborhood record store (which since went out of business as the economy struggled, and more people downloaded sound files). Mould started playing dance records with musician friend Richard Morel at Washington, D.C.’s 9:30 Club under the group name Blowoff. It became a semi-regular event, and club goers could (and can still) hear Blowoff spin anything from Gwen Stefani to David Bowie to Depeche Mode to a club mix of a Mould song. Mould even moved to D.C., where he bemoans the name of the city’s national airport.

While Body of Song opens with the boisterous rock of “Circles,” the kinetic "(Shine Your) Light Love Hope” follows with an arrangement on the precipice between rock and house. He has the savvy to employ drummers, primarily Brendan Canty of post-punkers Fugazi, who brings human beats to the trance state. Canty is touring as part of the current Bob Mould Band, along with buddy Morel on keyboards and Jason Narducy on bass.

The loops of "Always Tomorrow" and "I Am Vision, I Am Sound" are dominated by repetitive rhythms and compressed vocals with an overlay of Mould’s guitar. Certainly “Paralyzed” is old school Mould and will appeal to longtime fans, but all phases of his career are represented on Body of Song, which altered significantly from its supposed Workbook-like origin. When he actually sounds angry like a young punk on “Underneath Days,” it’s as if he’s trying too hard to unleash his old beast. Then a sinuous metal guitar lead fills up what would have been a fitting Sugar finale, “Best Thing,” with Mould singing about a relationship that never even had the chance to start. “You just lost, the best thing, you never had, never had, never had…” he howls in his muscular voice.

The search for love, sometimes elusive and sometimes treacherous, infuses these latter-day songs, from the ballad “High Fidelity” with its bells that chime and fall like aluminum raindrops, to the epic closer “Beating Heart The Prize.” And “Gauze Of Friendship” has the autobiographical honesty of “Thumbtack” from Bob Mould, only it’s more cautiously hopeful just as Mould seems in a more comfortable place. I didn’t explain any of this to my young guitarist friend, whose own punk band is far closer to Husker Du than to Sugar. But I was happy to learn the old Husker catalog is still being heard.

Lighting a cigarette, my friend wanted to know a little more about Mould. “Is he the one with the mustache?” he asked, referring to Husker bassist Greg Norton, who sported a handlebar mustache back in the '80s. Nah, no mustache. But later, I looked at a current publicity shot, and it looks like Mould has grown something of a mustache and beard, sprinkled with grey yet, and in between is the hint of a smile.