October 2011, 40 Watt, Athens, Ga.
The power of a performer is what they accomplish when the spotlight is solely on them, away from fancy machines or other musicians to cover their inadequacies. I appreciate when a musician comes out solo and plays their songs in the barest forms — whether it be on guitar, piano, or voice alone — it is then when you realize if their songs have what it takes.
Let it be said that Bob Mould has what it takes — and more. This is no surprise for anyone who has seen him play, but on this night at the 40 Watt the former Sugar and Husker Du frontman spent 90 minutes showing the room what a world-class artist looks like. Alone on the stage with guitar in hand, Mould dazzled with an explosive array of songs from his vast catalog.
I never seen Mould play live before, and I’ve had chances, but it never did transpire. I first was aware of Mould and his talents in 1985 when Flip Your Wig came out — the song “Makes No Sense At All” gained traction from that album — and the next year when Candy Apple Grey came out I was a full-on Mould fan. Husker Du was different from the other punk bands of the day — they seemed more attuned to melody and hooks than Black Flag or the DKs — but their presence and loudness was just as pronounced.
When Bob went solo, I went along with him, and when he formed Sugar, I was one of his biggest fans. It’s not too often a performer gets the chance to excel again and again — one time is hard enough — but Mould has proven three times he knows what he’s doing.
He celebrated those three lives, roaming among songs from Husker (“Makes No Sense At All,” “I Apologize,” “Celebrated Summer”), Sugar (“Hoover Dam,” “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” “The Act We Act,” “The Slim”) and his solo work new and old (“Wishing Well,” “See a Little Light,” “The Breach”), all while engaging the audience about what’s new in his life. “Do you hear I wrote a book?” he asked. “Anyone here read it yet? It’s not very punk rock, is it?”
He talked about the Foo Fighters (he sang on a Foos recent album), took requests (yes, I’ll play that one later, no, I’m not playing anything from Beaster) and noted the start of his band Sugar started just two feet from where he was standing.
“I was standing right here for that first show,” he said. A man from the audience yelled out “And I was standing right here.”
“How’s your hearing,” Bob asked, with a small laugh.
“Not too good,” the guy replied.
Over in the corner sat David Barbe, Sugar’s bassist and one of Athens’ true musical treasures. The fact a band so important in my life started in a place I was standing, and the man who started it was standing here again some 20 years later, filled me with a bit of joy. I know sounds silly, but we all have our things — we love what we love.
On a night of Popfest when other bands were struggling with sound, Mould capped the night with a performance for the ages. It’s a room that should have been packed, but the 200 people or so in the room were all in from the start.
Near the end of the set, a woman yelled from the crowd “thank you for being so awesome.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
