MUDHONEY :: Since We've Become Translucent

BIO

THE FLAM
I've been guilty of many things in my time on this earth and one of them was taking Mudhoney for granted. I began to do this around the time of their not-so-hot Piece of Cake album in 1992. Your favourite bands aren't meant to let you down even though they all do, eventually, and here were one of the defining elements in my never-ending musical adolescence sounding like they were pretty much dried up and bored. Actually, I think I was pissed off at them for still being around. When it comes to career trajectories, rock mythology traditionally favours the blueprints of Icarus or Warhol: the brief, brilliant, romantic gesture. Nothing lasts forever, but in rock 'n' roll most things last longer than they should. And surely, if any band was built for speed and not to last it was Mudhoney, gunk rock larcenists supreme. Common sense dictated they couldn't keep getting away with it indefinitely. Had I been the omniscient arbiter of the fates, blessed with powers of life, death and retirement, I'd have delivered them to the Premier Cru section of the Bide-A-Wee Rest Home reserved for those who served heroically and with distinction on the good ship Grunge, adding a recommendation that they be plied with only the finest elixirs for the rest of their days. But I wasn't. Out there in the real world, Mudhoney carried on. Fair play.

In 1995, they caught me unawares. My Brother the Cow was a good-to-great album. It saw them reunited with Jack Endino, who'd recorded the signature debut "Touch Me, I'm Sick," and featured some of their best-ever performances. The pulse was quicker than it had been. They played London and invited as special guests the Cosmic Psychos, who as we all know are the greatest band in the world, ever. But hey, methought, it's still all just a bit of a lark. Isn't it?

By 1998, the musical universe had taken several turns for the worse. There was lots of pomposity, lots of hollow angst and unreal reality, not a lot of spirit, not a lot of true hurt. Not a lot of rock. At the time I was presenting a radio show on a then-independent London station called XFM (since corporatised and divested of soul by the vampiric fucks who play divide and conquer with people's lives, just in case you were interested) and a new Mudhoney single arrived. Two new songs: "Night of the Hunted" and "Brand New Face." Both were amazing. I felt like a drowning man plucked from the waterfall's precipice by a long-lost friend holding a sturdy tree branch. A new album followed, Tomorrow Hit Today. It was the band's best record since 1991's Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge, only much better than that. This time when they played London, I felt like an evangelist. I took an old friend, another person I hadn't been so hot at staying in touch with, and it was a righteous, brilliant evening. The next year I was lucky enough to be invited on tour by the band Mogwai as their house DJ. Every night, I played Mudhoney records of varying vintages, and the halls became churches to their self-immolating hootenannies.

From then on, having not so long ago given up really caring about them, I began fearing the day when Mudhoney would cease to exist. And there have been times since then when it seemed a fairly safe bet that they had. But now they're back again, back with a record that is, I think, the most consistently strong album Mudhoney have ever made. Mudhoney are back to show the kids there's more to rock than bumfluff and a wiggly ass. For those who know the band, prepare to have your faith reborn. For those who don't, keep up! But this is the place to start.

THE TRUTH (OR, LET'S ASK MARK ARM SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT THE NEW MUDHONEY ALBUM)

Matt once said that if any of the founders of the band quit then that would be the end for Mudhoney…

"It wasn't just Matt who said that, we all did. We entertained the idea of changing our name, but Christ, we still sound like Mudhoney. A name change seemed pointless. When he quit, Matt made it clear that he thought we should go on as Mudhoney."

What's new guy Guy like?

"Guy is amazing. He's a walking encyclopedia of arcane facts. He's got great taste in music (just like the rest of us). His sense of humor is the same color as his heart. He has a cute Western Australian accent and he's a motherfucking cool bassist. Most importantly, he is a great friend. He moved to Seattle in '93. We've known him since Lubricated Goat first toured the States in '89. He's one of my favorite people and I feel very lucky to be playing with him again. As a bonus, he is almost finished with nursing school. This will come in handy on tour since he'll be able to treat the wounded."

Tell us about the gestation of the new record.

"Steve has had this idea for years: that we should record one song over a weekend once a month until we complete an album. This way all the attention would be focused on that one song and, presuming it was written that month, the song would be fresh. We didn't quite record the album that way. We did record three songs at a time (they seemed to spew forth in batches of three) at three different studios with three different engineers.

We wanted to work with different people we admire who we hadn't worked with before. The idea being that this would add greater sonic variety to the album and help to make each song that much more unique. We weren't concerned that this would make the record a patchwork affair. We are secure in our musical identity and we are confident that the essence of Mudhoney is glue enough to hold the album together. We recorded a 10th song back in the spring of 2000 with Wayne Kramer on the bass. This was before we were playing with Guy."

When I heard you were using horns, my first reaction was 'ah - a Sonics thing.' But the horn parts on the new record are much more expansive than that (particularly on "Where the Flavor Is"). What prompted you to use horns for the first time?

"Well, this isn't exactly the first time we've had horns. There's saxophone on the song "1995" from My Brother the Cow. This is the first time we used a horn section however. Steve, Dan and I played in a Sonics cover act a few years ago with several Seattle luminaries. The saxophonist was Craig Flory. I've wanted to play with him for quite a while. We grew up in the same suburban housing development. I've known Craig since I was four. We'd run into each other periodically throughout the years. He played free jazz and avant rock in this band called Fred (as well as other outfits) in the early '80s while playing in a '50s cover band to make money. He plays all kinds of stuff all the time. He's an incredibly open and gifted musician.

When we were writing "Where the Flavor Is," I kept hearing horns. I called Craig and asked if he'd get a horn section together and do the arranging. He called Jeff McGrath and Greg Powers who had also played in Fred. They did an excellent job. I kinda figured the horn section would play something with a Saints or early '70s Stones feel. The real surprise came when Craig played solo on "Baby, Can You Dig the Light?" All of a sudden when the changes come in the song, Craig channels Andy MacKay; giving the sprawling psychedelic number an unexpected Roxy Music vibe."

There was a guide to Garage Rock in a UK music mag recently, in which Mudhoney received only a passing mention. Do you crave a little more recognition than you've been given? Or have I, the indignant fan, read too much into "They think we don't exist since we've become translucent" from the song "Sonic Infusion"?

"Do I crave recognition? Not as much as I crave gorgeous half-dressed women feeding me peeled seedless grapes. We are all perfectly happy with whatever level of attention we've received. For me the key line from "Sonic Infusion" is, "they feel just what they miss and it adds to their confusion." The problem, as always, is with Them."

Finally... I find it hard to believe, but the records state that Mudhoney's been going nearly 15 years, and you yourself turned 40 this year. Will this party ever end?!

"Not as long as the Medics keep providing us with nearly new livers. We keep blasting through the ones marked 'Made in China.' It's time we started harvesting good old American organs instead of those cheap overseas imitations."

THE FINAL THOUGHT
Here in the post-post-rock era, as it's become more and more difficult to channel the prime mover, the proto-rock of Since We've Become Translucent is more relevant than ever. It's the sound of a band rebuilt and revived. It's a record that's gonna soothe your soul and maybe even save it.