Beauty & Ruin

Reinvention has it's place. Where many critics will chastise an act for not growing, I am not fond of change for change's sake (nor am I critic, but that is a different matter). I wrote just yesterday that if you find your groove and the songs continue to be high caliber, you should stick to it.

Take Bob Mould. His last record, Silver Age, was one of my favorites from 2012. It was a straight-forward noisy power pop record. It wouldn't be surprising if he changed things up again, exploring the darker side of things Black Sheets of Rain style or even going more electronic. But Bob Mould has other things on his mind. Namely, it's the death of his father and of his own mortality. His new record Beauty & Ruin deals with that life change.

Musicially, "Low Season" starts off as a slow burn, it's deliberate pacing giving way to the punk kick of "Little Glass Pill," which segues into the Sugar-infused "I Don't Know You Anymore." His band of Jason Narducy and Jon Wurster is top shelf.

But the lyrics bite. Take the last of those three tracks: A thousand pieces of my heart/Swept across a weathered floor/And no idea how to start/Solving puzzles from before. Side 1 of the record is labeled "beauty" but beauty is hard to find here. Take side closer "The War:" And all these songs I write for you/They tear me up, it's not hard to do/Listen to my voice/It's the only weapon I kept from the war."

The second side, titled "ruin," is where the light begins to shine. Surrounding the Replacements-esque "Hey Mr. Grey" (complete with a kids don't follow reference), it flickers through songs like "Forgiveness" (and it's Brick-In-The-Wall guitar intro), "Tomorrow Morning" and "Let The Beauty Be" before coming to a close with "Fix It" where Bob sings it's time to fill your heart with love/Fix it, fix it, full enough/Time to fix who you are."

Bob Mould's homosexuality undoubtedly caused whatever friction, whatever distance he and his father had in their relationship. This album sounds like catharsis. It sounds like closure after the fact. I don't know the back story, I don't know anything about what Bob's mindset is here, but the music shows a broken relationship's turmoil. It shows an artist dealing with heavy shit. And for a master songwriter like Bob Mould it's a powerful listening experience.

Most Messed Up

Like all the hipsters, I went through my alt-country phase. If you're unfamiliar, I guess technically it means rock bands that have a country flavor. This was before the Modern Country thing happened, before Rascal Flatts and Lady Antebellum and Florida Georgia Line and Zac Brown Band decided that playing electric guitars but still singing about being a shitkicker was enough the make you a rocker. Those are country bands that think they are rock bands. And they are barely country artists. They don't belong in the same breath with Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson and Townes Van Zandt Waylon Jennings and Loretta Lynn and Hank Williams and Patsy Cline. And that's about all I'll say on that subject, because it ain't for me and I try to be nice here.

One of my favorites out of the alt-country scene were the Old 97s. They hail from Dallas. Dreamy lead singer Rhett Miller went to my rival high school. But I was lame in high school and didn't have a blood vendetta against anybody, so that doesn't really mean much to me. The Old97s followed in the footsteps of my finding Wilco and Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt. This was around 1998 and 1999. The first record of theirs I bought was Fight Songs. But the one that really hooked me, and hooked most of the people who love them, was Too Far To Care. It's a great dose of cowpunk. Snarling Strats, great melodies, swinging rhythm section.

The cool thing about them is that they always had an outstanding melodic sense, almost as much power pop and alt-country. Rhett Miller's solo records all lean much more Big Star than Waylon. That had started to rub off on the band a bit, but the last couple of records find them returning to their roots. Their latest is Most Messed Up and it 100% follows that path.

You can tell by the names of the songs: "Let's Get Drunk & Get It On" and "This Is The Ballad" demonstrate the sense of humor they have always had. Opening cut "Longer Than You've Been Alive" sounds like Rhett telling his kids why they have a rock star for a dad. "Wheels Off" sounds like it could have come right off Fight Songs. Every country-ish band needs a song about "Nashville" and they do theirs here.  "Wasted" starts off like lots of Old 97s, acoustic intro but cranking up the amps, singing about not being a square and getting blotto. Bassist Murray Hammond, who is the secret weapon of the band, gets another great track to sing, this time "Ex Of All Your See."

The cowpunk moniker sticks. It's ragged and rough in spots. It's noisy. The back of the record says "Play this album real loud." It's under 40 minutes long, so it starts, kicks ass, says see you next time.

Where bands often find themselves in ruts or bored by what they do, the Old 97s seem to revel in it. They don't break much new ground these days, but they seem to have found their groove. There are good songs in that groove. Growth isn't always needed. Knowing what you are good at is an excellent skill to have.