*THERE'S very few people that have existed as long as me in this business. There's Neil Young, there's Lou Reed, there's maybe Van Morrison. There's very few . . .*
Fifteen years into a chequered and extraordinary musical career, Bob Mould released his most successful album, one that crashed into the top ten world-wide, accompanied by sell-out tours and universal Sugar mania. Bob Mould describes *Copper Blue* as a *great pop record*, in much the same way as REM talked about the melancholy *Automatic For The People* being the most optimistic album they'd ever released.
Side two opens with *The Slim*, a savage and intense song concerning a friend who died of AIDS. *A Good Idea*, one of the best songs The Pixies never wrote, is about drowning one's girlfriend in a river. *Copper Blue* is great, but it's a distinctly different kind of pop record.
What makes it, and this year's harsher six-track album *Beaster* so outstanding are those achingly gorgeous melodies that crop up everywhere. Even when the lyrics are getting unbearably bleak, there's an upbeat guitar-driven melody waiting around the corner to take you somewhere special.
It's been like that since the very start. Husker Du, one of the original power trios, were arguably - in fact, let's be realistic here and omit the 'arguably' bit - the most influential American band of the '80s. There wouldn't, there couldn't, be a Nirvana without Husker Du.
They released eight albums, from the raucous live debut *Land Speed Record* to 1987's double album swan song *Warehouse: Songs and Stories*, that welded harmony and noise in the most sublime way, and soon everybody was trying to do it. *Candy Apple Grey* was the high point.
Released in 1986, it featured some of the finest songs ever written by both Grant Hart and Bob Mould, but by this stage the cracks were beginning to show. Hart turned to heroin, Mould fought off alcoholism, their manager David Savoy committed suicide on the eve of the *Warehouse* tour and Husker Du fell apart.
PRESSURE
Then in 1989, after a long period in isolation, writing songs and recovering from the mess, Bob Mould released his debut solo LP *Workbook*. There's bitterness and regret, but only for fleeting moments. Mostly the tone is indefatigably optimistic, from the fragile promise of the instrumental *Sunspots* onwards.
1990's joyless *Black Sheets Of Rain* couldn't compare. The record company didn't want to promote a record so obviously lacking in hit singles, and, sick of the grumbling and complaints from all sides, Bob abandoned both his backing band and record company. To pay off substantial debts, he embarked on a massive ten month solo tour of every tiny venue that would have him.
But like Grant Hart, who ditched his own solo career to form Nova Mob, Bob Mould works best with a team. A new bassist (David Barbe) and drummer (Malcolm Travis) were recruited. Sugar was born, and lo, there was much cheering and rejoicing throughout the land.
Everything's different this time round. Sugar are signed to the independent Creation label, and Bob Mould is co-managing the band and making sure that business is taken care of properly. Sugar are a real band, just like Husker Du were, rather than a frontman backed by a couple of non-entities.
Bob Mould's songwriting seems to improve all the time: just listen to *If I Can't Change Your Mind* or *Hoover Dam* on *Copper Blue*, or *Walk Away* and *JC Auto* on *Beaster*. They're going to sound even better live. And this is going to be your last chance to see them for a while - Sugar are taking a six month sabbatical beginning in July, while David Barbe's wife Amy has a baby.
Bob Mould is going to spend the time working on a children's record, and a film sound-track. And writing songs. He's aware, he says, of the attention that's been focused on Sugar, and the main pressure now is *to live up to those expectations. I don't feel like I can do enough*. But you know he's going to try . . .