It’s 1991 and Bob Mould has two solo albums under his belt after the break-up of Hüsker Dü. He’s a writing machine and is getting back to his punk roots after his Workboook album that was a bit subdued and full of folk influences. He’s not sure how his fans and the general public are going to react to the new material, however. It’s loud and raw, but also more melodic than his Hüsker Dü material. He hires David Barbe to play bass and Malcolm Travis to play drums for him and names the band Sugar after seeing a sugar packet at a diner (Free advertising at every diner and coffee shop in the world!). He and his bandmates then put down just ten of the many tracks Mould had written (the word is that he had around thirty) and the result becomes Copper Blue.
It turned out that Mould didn’t need to worry, as the album was a stunner and people were hungry for the sound he’d created in the early years of the grunge scene. The chugging, growling guitar chords at the start of “The Act We Act” were like manna from heaven for early 1990s radio stations eager to spin anything that vaguely sounded like Nirvana‘s Nevermind album (and Mould has openly spoken about how the success of Nevermind helped Copper Blue find an audience). “A Good Idea” is a roaring tale about twisted love and what it’s like to witness twisted love. Barbe’s bass thumps through the whole thing.
It flows right into “Changes” – a song about how nothing ever stays the same. “You can’t step into the same river twice,” as the saying goes, and “Changes” seems to reflect this as Mould sings about how he and his lover need to make serious adjustments to their relationship if it’s going to work. Mould’s chords on “Helpless” soar, as do his vocals about how hard he’s trying to help someone who is choosing to be helpless. Travis’ snare hits are like signal flares popping off to reflect Mould’s calls for help with the situation.
“Hoover Dam,” with its weird backwards synths, finds Mould in a strange place between madness and peace. The combination of his acoustic guitar with keyboard riffs is a nice one. ‘The Slim” has Mould grieving a lover after their death, and I can tell you that his lyrics are spot-on (“I felt your breath for a moment. I heard your voice for a moment. Then I looked back on my pillow. What you used to say, what we used to say.”). The guitars are almost manic, but they’re maintaining control. They’re managing it. It’s all you can do, really.
On the flip side of this, “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” has Mould trying to convince a lover that he’s going to be there no matter what, but they still won’t believe him despite all his efforts (“With all the crazy doubts you’ve got, I love you even still.”) “Fortune Teller” has that signature “Mould sound” of driving guitar chords backed by solid bass and drums and might be the closest to a Hüsker Dü track.
Mould’s lyrics in “Slick” use the imagery of a car crash (real or imagined?) to reflect his thoughts on his addictions, booze and love, and how they’re often the cause of his own harm. The fuzz on it is great, another metaphor for his roughed-up brain. The album ends with “Man on the Moon,” which has nothing to do with the R.E.M. song or the Jim Carey movie and everything to do with crushing riffs and rock anthem drums.
Copper Blue shook up the airwaves just when we needed it and probably made a lot of wanna-be grunge bands hang up their guitars. It’s a must-own if you’re a fan of Mould’s work.
Keep your mind open.
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