A strange thing happened on grunge's way to the mainstream: the best band got left behind. Maybe that's not so strange, since the best in any scene is rarely the biggest. What's odd is, before grunge's breakthrough, Mudhoney were pretty huge. Their brain-shaking 1988 single "Touch Me I'm Sick" was a definite indie rock hit-- at that year's CMJ Conference, so many people asked me if I had heard it that I nearly got a complex. A follow-up six-song EP, Superfuzz Bigmuff, was almost as popular, and certainly as good. At the time, it seemed a foregone conclusion that Mudhoney would make grunge big.
Why Nirvana did so instead is no mystery, but the indelible mark left on indie rock by Mudhoney's first few records shouldn't be obscured. While the impact was partially due to buzz and circumstance, it came mostly because the music killed. Rising from the ashes of sludge-masters Green River, Mudhoney blurted a Technicolor yawn of 60s garage, Stooges-style howl, Jimi Hendrix fuzz, post-Black Flag steam, and proto-slacker slop. And they wrapped it in a blissfully primal package-- as animalistic as Iggy, with even less pretense. In 1988, Mudhoney were cool, especially because it didn't sound like they wanted to be.
"Touch Me I'm Sick" and Superfuzz Bigmuff are still powerful two decades later: Steve Turner's guitar bleeding over "Twenty Four", Mark Arm's screams pumping the veins of "No One Has", Dan Peters filling every open drum space in "Burn It Clean"-- none of it has been diminished by time. That's evidenced by Sub Pop's deluxe 2xCD set, which adds singles, compilation tracks, and demos, plus two fine live sets from winter 1988. Three versions of "Touch Me I'm Sick" all slay, but it was with follow-up single "You Got It (Keep It Outta My Face)" that Mudhoney peaked. The tune's lopsided sway is both urgent and half-awake, like a muttering drunk who blows your mind with off-handed profundity. An all-together-now "Fuck you!" at the end is Mudhoney in a nutshell-- they're laughing cause they really mean it, and vice versa.
While the smoke from these records was still clearing, Mudhoney released a pair of excellent, underappreciated full-lengths, 1989's Mudhoney and 1991's Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge. Both offered gems approaching the best of Superfuzz Bigmuff. But they also exuded a modest, workman-like feel, indicating the band was headed towards a solid career unlikely to diverge from its quickly-beaten path. Five more albums over the next 14 years kept the flag flying, suffering only from a lack of surprise. Mudhoney got perhaps too good at being Mudhoney, able to churn out solid songs so effortlessly they've rarely felt the need to stretch their boundaries.
No envelopes are pushed on the quartet's latest, The Lucky Ones. But there's an increase in firepower that makes it their best effort in a while. That's especially true of the first three songs, a head-spinning block that nearly matches the snap of Mudhoney's prime. The chugging "I'm Now" tears the air, while "Inside Out Over You" marries Billy Childish stomp to Dinosaur Jr. slouch, and "The Lucky Ones" rides Turner's high-rev fuzz. Lyrically, Arm seems acutely aware of time. "The past made no sense/ The future looks tense" he snarls in "I'm Now", and later he envies those spared time's march: "The lucky ones have already gone down/ The lucky ones are lucky they're not around."
The album sags a bit in the middle, offering competent but not particularly memorable tunes. But Mudhoney rips through the last few tracks as convincingly as they did the opening three. On closer "New Meaning", over another searing Turner guitar line, a happily-hoarse Arm defends the band's continued relevance: "I've got new meaning, baby/ Don't you take it away." That new meaning may be same as the old meaning, but the fact that this hard-working band still means something is impressive-- and, based on The Lucky Ones, difficult to deny.
