Big Black- "Headache" EP

Original cover of "Headache." Not popular with the ladies, especially Mothers Against Drunk Driving (cause they're always MADD).


Better know version of the "Headace" EP. Well liked by children.

Big Black
"Headache" EP
Touch and Go Records
1987

"Not as good as 'Atomizer,' so don't get your hopes up, cheese!" was how the infamous sticker on the front of "Headache" read. And, yes, it's four songs, so one may surmise that it's not a good. Such is not the case. Less can be more, really! It's happened in the world of the EP. But as for "Headache," it's Big Black first take it or leave it of the post "Lungs" era.

The EP opens up with "My Disco," a slow, enraged number where Albini just kind of shouts in reverb over repetitively slower-than-norm Roland blasts. The static, shrapnel guitar is still there but the song is honestly a phone-in number, certainly nothing to open up a Big Black release. "Grinder," is a faster, hammer-to-nail number with a gnarly pause in the middle, but the song doesn't really amount to much except more Albini vocal reverb. What the fuck. In past releases, Albini's distant, flat cries of vengeance and hillarity were much more effective. "Headache's" vocals sound like they were cut an paste in with current Apple Garageband technology later in the recording process.

"Ready Men," song 3, opens like a slow, dirgy number, then kicks into a killer Big Black beat. But again, the song doesn't really grab any attention along the process. Ehh, "Pete, King of the Detectives," (a take on Jesus, King of the Jews), is the only real Big Black classic in the whole bunch. It is a short, stop start number that has that infectious chorus that you find yourself chanting for days on end, yet there is no melody to speak of. What a great number.

"Headache" becomes especially annoying if you have it on 12'' vinyl. After 2 songs you gotta flip the big slab for more of the same. Damn, Albini, my forearms hurt. And yes, I guess I am a lazy American. No, wait! I'm not because I fall down and worship King Dick. No, ok, I am lazy.
!

5/10

Big Black- "Atomizer"

Big Black
"Atomizer"
Homestead Records
1986


Well, it's been a while but here we are, reviewing a full length album. The boys from Chicago, after years of touring, hellbent on releasing EPs and pissing people off, finally succumb to the long play record. And it's a board to the face with "Atomizer."

At this point, Big Black was not a band to break character and try something new and daring. The band was already new and daring, with enough clout to carry them no matter what mass amounts of similar sounding material they wanted to drop from the sky. The songs are an angrier, more aggressive version of "Racer-X" EP, and that shit was angry. But, let's not forget, also hilarious.

The record opens with "Jordan, Minnesota," an Albini seething tale of a true story of a child sex-ring in this small Minnesotan town. While many were aquited of charges, and it's said the song is factually inaccurate, it's never the less disturbgin as shit. The song is an never ending start stop jackhammer, guitars as weapon swooping in, and Albini screaming in a childlike tone "suck Daddy, suck Daddy." Ewww.

Song like "Kerosene" and "Fists of Love" are slower but equally as angry and menacing as Jordan, Minnesota." "Passing Complexion" is the hit, an unforgettable screeching guitar lead that could crack the Top 40 charts in some bizarro world.

"Atomizer" has bit of weak finish after such a pummel. "Strange Things" is a repetitive instrumental with animalistic, sarcastic punk shouts echoing in the background. Nevertheless, it's kind of a cool song. Then, a live, weaker-than-"Bulldozer" version of "Cables" closes the record. Again, great fucking song, but a live version to end such a powerhouse? I don't know. But, it's not negative enough to keep me from listening all over again.

Perhaps, "Atomizer" was Big Black at their best. Their creative strengths that seemed to come so seamlessly all surmounted in this angry, disturbed, machinary of pop-songs put through a grinder. All hail THE ATOMIZER!

10/10

Big Black- "Racer-X" EP

Big Black
"Racer-X" EP
Homestead Records
1984

So here we are, year 2, EP 3 of Big Black. Albini returns with the exact formula that worked so well on "Bulldozer." Durango, and the addition of Dave Riley on bass, back Albini and trusty Roland TR-606.

The EP unfolds with the title track, a slower-than-"Bulldozer" methodical machine pulse. Waves of scrap metal guitar fly from left field and give ya a good kick to the temple. "Shotgun" is also a more methodical track in terms of pace, with more creepy crawlin' guitar parts ringing out, in the most ungodly anti-professional tone imaginable. It's the kind of tone that'd bring AM radio to their knees, coupled with shouts of "SAWED OFF" and Albini lazily chiming in through transistor tones with, "sshhotgun." Perhaps the most haunting, angry song of the whole set.

Then there's "The Ugly American," a track so fucking angrily tongue in cheek lyrically, one's tongue may just shoot right through their goddamn face. "Deep Six," a swinging little number with a brutal chant that'll just about get grandma out of the rocking-chair and dance into the grave. "A buck knife, a saw blade, a lead pipe, a twelve gauge/Coulda deep-sixed him, Wouldn't bat an eye," repeated over and over. Beautiful. Now loop that over in over in group chant and you got yourself a Big Black party!

The EP ends with a cover of James Brown's "The Big Payback." I believe this is what Mr. Brown's listening to in Hell for the rest of eternity. I also assume this cover may have attributed to his increasing coke problems throughout the '80s. Hmm, food for thought.

So 3 EPs? Kinda makes you wonder when the fuck these guys were gonna get around to making that Platinum Record, and quit pussy-footing around with such devilishly short treats of disdain.

7/10

Big Black- "Bulldozer" EP

Big Black
"Bulldozer" EP
Ruthless Records
1983

Following the uncharacteristic debut under the Big Black moniker, Albini returned with a full band of sorts! There was the addition of 2 fellow-Chicagoan punks from Naked Raygun, Jeff Pezzati and Santiago Durango. Roland still kept the beat, the unflappable drum machine rounding out the band.

“Bulldozer” is unlike “Lungs” because “Lungs” doesn’t kick you in the teeth, then proceed to drag you through the mud on the way to the slaughterhouse. “Bulldozer” is an unforgiving jackhammer full of some full-blown noise blasts. In fact, Steve Albini’s guitar “solos” consist of him mainly running his signature metal guitar pics frantically over the strings while Pezzati rattles the bass and Durango keeps it together with thin guitar leads. It’s stunning how the band sounds like a completely solidified and planned mess!

“Cables” kicks off the EP with some traditional, frantic punk stops and starts, and explodes after some ominous guitar scraps and rattles introduce the song. It’s just the kind of song about cattle getting electro-shock to the skull that makes you unable to operate heavy machinery around small children. “Texas” sounds like fucked-up rodeo played at shotty-craftsmanship-carnival speeds, but with a punk chant. “Pigeon Kill” is a steady blast that is accentuated with the eerie guitar drones, like something out of an old sci-fi movie.

Lyrically, Steve Albini is like a less comically smug, and more cryptic Michael Moore. His songs present some a variety of unattractive truths about America, and the American psyche throughout our nation’s history, from small town farming to elitist values. Yet, it’s delivered in a “fuck you” manner with obscure context clues, showing we’re all sucked up in this bullshit. Songs like “Pigeon Kill” pave the way for the American darkness that Albini likes to unearth (as if “Cables” hadn’t done the job already). “Seth,” a song about an attack dog that goes after black people is just another example of the ugly truths and rants that Albini doesn’t just present, but angrily and hopelessly heaves at us.

Produced by the late punk-vet engineer, Ian Burgess, the intense shrill and pounce of “Bulldozer” cuts much deeper than “Lungs.” However, despite names like "Big Black" and "Bulldozer," the album never really gets "heavy." In fact, Big Black never really got heavy. They always seemed more content being noisy pissants with guitars, rather than sonically pummeling. This EP, really kickstarts the robotically sinister, and sickly funny cacophony of Big Black.

8/10

Big Black- "Lungs" EP

Big Black
"Lungs" EP
Ruthless Records
1982

Already notorious in the underground zine scene, Mr. Steve Albini first reared his ugly, scrawny neck in the world of recorded sound with this little artifact from 1986. A student at Northwestern University in Illinois, Albini said he’d often wonder the campus listening to nothing but his drum machine, pulsating endlessly in his ears. This in turn was what inspired Albini to form Big Black.

As the infamous tale goes, Albini borrowed his friend’s 4-track over spring break. Reparations for abusing the 4-track? A case of beer to the owner. Over that weekend, with Roland his trusty drum machine, and a trebled-out guitar, Albini made “Lungs,” a 6 song, bleak industrial nightmare.

While the one man show is not as layered, or hard hitting as future Big Black efforts, it’s nevertheless a damn near disturbing experience in spots and quite interesting when mirrored against other Big Black records. The EP often gets panned, including a big "fuck you" from Albini himself. However, the gap between fruition and future triumphs is staggering. “Lungs” is about as bare-bones as you can get, with the cold reverb of the drum machine steadily beating on, guitar gulps and gurgles stinging the ear, and Albini howling like a mad man in a pitch black room pondering his future clock-tower shootings. Some of the tracks come off sounding a little like deranged new-wave, unfortunately. “Dead Billy’s” guitar line sounds kind of synthy, as does the guitar in “I Can Be Killed,” coupled with its minimalist dancey beat. Not the Big Black one’s usually accustomed to.

And of course, there’s Albini’s lyrics. Future recordings would be a showcase for Albini’s sick and twisted observations on society, often spliced with wry, angry jokes that’d make a mother weep. On “Lungs” however falls a bit shot of first prize wordsmith. “Come on, come on, come on, shut me up/Try to keep me quiet/That's the only way/To shut me up” Albini pleads on “I Can Be Killed.” Ehhh, not his most poignant stuff. However, “Steelworker” is a particularly great opener, one that would be played live for years, that contains future Albini-like lyrical madness. “I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat/I'm a, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat.” Won’t exactly win you a poetry scholarship, but the lyrics are indicative of the disgusting, seedy underbelly of Americana that Albini so seamlessly uproots.

While the future records would showcase the Big Black sound to a fuller degree, and become more nihilistic and furious, “Lungs” is pretty damn cool. It’s a daring beginning made by a man who doesn’t give two shits whether you, or he, liked it or not.

6/10

Husker Du- "Warehouse: Songs and Stories"

Husker Du
"Warehouse: Songs and Stories"
Warner Brother Records
1987

One can tell by the extraneously lengthy title, that "Warehouse: Songs and Stories" is far removed from the intimate, blood on the sleeve approach of all past triumphs the band had accomplished. Their second major label effort, as well as their second double LP, is another overloaded mess. But unlike "Zen Arcade's" chaotic bliss and experimentation, "Warehouse" is a bloated effort of pure pop goodness. And unlike "Candy Apple Grey," "Warehouse" actually sounds like a major label effort of the time. The hooks are plentiful, the production finally sounds appealing to the general listening ear. So why that grimy ehhh, feeling?

The problem with "Warehouse" is that the album became a storage unit for the battle between Bob Mould's songwriting, and Grant Hart's increasing desire to be the equal Husker. As the story goes, Mould did not want to cut any of his contributions to include more of Hart's songs. Exercising contractual rights from Warner Brothers that gave the band complete artistic freedom, THEY MADE IT A DOUBLE ALBUM. Guess Grant felt it was imperative for us all to be graced with rock's most pretentious, and forced hook ever with "CHARITY/CHASTITY/PRooooDANCE/ AND HOeeOPE?" If you haven't, listen to track 2 to see what I mean.

That's not to say "Warehouse" is without some really great stuff. The first LP is quite strong. "Ice Cold Ice" is a dark, pleading repetitive (in a good way) rocker. "These Important Years" is classic Mould but all popped up. Hart's "Somewhere Somehow" is typical Grant new school '60 infused pop shmutz. "Friend You've Gotta Fall," is a good Mould penned track as well.

The second LP is lesser than the first, simply for the fact that it's more of the same, but with weaker numbers. "Actual Condition" is a short, Elvis-jitter bug number by Grant that's just spine-tinglingly bad filler. "No Reservations," "Up in the Air," more filler. And the worst part is "Turn It Around" is a sinfully guilty pop number, full of bounce and Mould shouts!!! BUT, what's with the awful Europe, "The Final Count Down" inspired synths that just RUIN it? "Turn It Around" can only be heard if you jump in a DeLorean and travel back to 1987, and even then, you're 2 years too late. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? Also, if "It's Not Peculiar" were released in 1993, and performed by a skinny white guy in a rasta hat, or REM, you'd now hear it on "NOW!:That's What I Call the '90s," next to a Spin Doctors' track.

With all that, "Warehouse" can be a dizzily enjoyable listen. Every time I put it on, my finger goes to the skip button on my CD player, but I hold out. And then another songs plays, and another. And I realize I've now entered THE WAREHOUSE duh-duh-duh, OF SONGS.... AND STORIES!!!! DAH-DAH!!! Excuse me, sorry. It's not Husker Du as we've come to know and love them, but the overall progression of their career makes sense, and it's weirdly good. It's quite a heavy album to leave fans. 70 minutes of sugar can be straining to some. If the album were shortened to 10 or 11 songs, what a punch this might have packed. It's the old 786 page novel that could've been told in just under 300.

Mould would go on to form Sugar. Huh, weird. Grant Hart would go on to beat heroin and stress over HIV before putting out solo albums that were actually better than Mould's solo stuff. Huh, weird. And Greg Norton open a restaurant, that unfortunately, is not Husker Du themed. Remember him? He played the bass and had an homage to Rollie Fingers on his face.

7/10

Husker Du- "Candy Apple Grey"

Husker Du
"Candy Apple Grey"
Warner Brother Records
1986


The first Husker Du major label (gasp) album is not much of a major label debut at all. "Candy Apple Grey" was their first album on Warner Brothers, right on the heels of the undeniably strong "Flip Your Wig." With wider distribution, extra money at their hands, and access to boatloads of champagne and designer drugs, one would think a logical move would be to piss the past away and start over somewhat fresher, glossier, and more accessible to Mr. and Mrs. Mom and Dad America. However, Husker Du gives the proverbial finger to John Q. Record-buying Public and put out, perhaps, a harsher version of "Flip Your Wig."

The only difference between "Flip Your Wig" and this, is that "Candy Apple Grey" just isn't as good. It's a shame, because their hearts were still in the right place, still churning out some seething pop-punk. However, for the first time, the songs began to sound like, well, songs. Not that "Flip Your Wig" was a concept or wholly unified, but "Candy Apple Grey" just feels boring in spots. Just a bunch 'o new tunes. Wee-whamm.

Mould's compositions are primarily strong on this one. "Eiffel Tower High," "I Don't Know For Sure," and "Crystal" (perhaps the most cacophonous anti-pop track to ever lead off a "pop" marketed major label debut). Hart's top notch efforts on this include "Dead Set on Destruction," a lazy pop-rocker that's almost borderline lame. "Sorry Somehow," is also a fantastic Hart penned track, that features a This-Years-Model-Costelloian organ that I'm still on the fence with. In short, Bob Mould rules. And Grant Hart's kind of cool.

As if to induce nightmares, "Too Far Down," starts off with what sounds like "The Baby Song" redux. Instead the song unfolds into a Mould acoustic composition that sounds like something an over-weight 30 something in a faded gas-station hat, that was purchased at Old Navy, might be strumming at a dimly lit, 4 people full cafe on a Tuesday night in middle America. Phewww. Get all that? "Hardly Getting Over It," is another acoustic number that starts out pretty cool and then DOESN'T FUCKING END. I think the song is still faintly playing in a radiation band around the 3rd ring of Saturn as you read. Oh yea, it's a long song and I'm beginning to sweat.

As if trying to win a bet, the band's production on the album someone how out craps "Flip Your Wig," and arguably "Zen Arcade" in terms of toilet quality. Grant Hart still seems hellbent on pumping up that endless reverb on his snare drum (an aural time capsule so listeners in the future won't forget this was recorded in the 80's), and Mould's guitar is far to empty and trebbly. This may attribute to some of "Candy Apple Grey's" uniformity in places.

MTV stars they were not. Platinum bound? No. "Candy Apple Grey" is an enigmatic major label debut from a band that didn't stand a chance in the bigs, at a time when "punk" was destined to die in the world where record sales matter. Oh wait. What's that noise? Oh, it's "Hardly Getting Over It" still looping faintly, somewhere in the distance of time and space. Excuse me while I kill myself.

7/10

Husker Du- "Flip Your Wig"

Husker Du
"Flip Your Wig"
SST Records
1985

Riding the endless amphetamine wave, Hukser Du entered the studio 2 months after the release of “New Day Rising” to record their follow-up. Even poppier and expanded melodic arrangements (but not in any wimpy way), “Flip Your Wig is the third in a series of powerhouse SST Records releases, and probably the third best of the bunch. It’s also their swan song of the indie circuit, as at this point the cigar-puffin’ corporates had begun knocking on their door, promising riches and palm trees instead of dumpy flannel and Minnesota snow drifts.

Writing brighter material that still retained a dark, daring, and angry tone, Husker Du put out another minor-chord onslaught of their most accessible material. Well, maybe “Green Eyes” wasn’t so angry. That song’s a little sappy, but hey it’s damn good. But I digress. By this point, Grant Hart and Bob Mould were scrambling to out write each other at a steady pace, which explains the brevity in between full lengths. There was a compulsive need to get it all out NOW. Time is of the essence when you’re off being punk rock Beethovens. The inflated sense of songsmith is particularly visible in the album’s credits, which are just bloated with ego. I mean, does Grant Hart really need to list that he played slide-whistle on this album? Good for you Greg Norton, simply listed as: bass.

After the brittle, lo-fi production on “New Day Rising,” Hart and Mould, being the self-identified geniuses they were, decided to produce the record themselves. “Flip Your Wig” features improved production, with Mould’s guitar still rigid but easier to decipher. The album still sounds dated with all that ‘80s reverb on the drums. Gotta make that deep snare ring out forever, baby!

So the songs. YES, the SONGS. Wow, “Flip Your Wig,” packs a bunch of grade A songs in between a few average-at-besters. But damn do those A plus songs shine. The opener, and title track, ends with between Mould’s lead vocals and Hart melodically shouting in the background, this all after an aggressively catchy build-up and fantastic, tasteful guitar solo. How about “Makes No Sense at All,” Mould’s best pop song thus far? Or “Divide and Conquer,” Mould’s best song EVER!? I defy you to listen to “Divide and Conquer” without kicking a hole in a wall and then hugging the person whose wall you’ve just damaged. What weird emotions these are! The giddy bounce of “Hate Paper Doll,” the carefree swing of “Flexible Flyer,” more airplane references with “Private Plane”? Damn, the strengths are boundless in spots, and apparently Husker Du fancy aviation titles.

So what sucks about this album? “BABY SONG.” One minute of silly filler that Grant Hart thought would be a good idea. I take this as Grant’s coming-out-of-the-closte song. Their can be no other way to describe it. Listen for yourself and just hide your cherub cheeks in embarrassment. I guess they were trying to exhaust the last of their tape reels at this point, probably while wearing Brian Wilson fire-fighter hats. Also, Hart’s “Keep Hanging On,” is a bland radio friendly rocker suitable for a truck driver in need of an emotional pump-up. The record closes with two instrumentals which is a weak choice, although they’re not bad. Mould’s “The Wit and the Wisdom” is a particularly dark and strange instrumental, but the finals tracks leave you wanting a final statement.

Side-A also stacks up so much better than Side-B, so flipping the record over is a bit anti-climactic. It makes me wonder why they didn’t place “Divide and Conquer” as the intro to Side-B. Instead, it’s buried 6th on the first side. I don’t know. The final fizzle out of the record causes the album to fall in the mighty ranks of their impressive discography, although at times, Bob’s from-the-gut (bahhzzing) vocals really make you want to declare this their best ever. But every time I find myself sitting through the first 14 tambourine-cursed seconds of “Find Me,” before the song gets awesome I remember why “New Day Rising” feels a little purer.

And thus concludes their indie cred and royalty hemorrhaging on SST Records. It’s time to loose more money in the MAJOR LEAGUES.

8/10

Husker Du- "New Day Rising"

Husker Du
"New Day Rising"
SST Records
1985

Personally, I don't know most bands. That would be impossible. But I feel that most bands, after releasing a bloated 23 song double concept album would go a little flat for a while. You know; hit the road to promote, run into both physical and mental exhaustion, find that the creative well had run dry. And then, 3 years later, still no new record. However, when "Zen Arcade" hit shelves, Husker Du not only hit the road, but they hit the studio to recording their follow-up. WHAT?! No rest for the wicked, indeed.

What they came out with only plays on the strengths of "Zen Arcade" (i.e. "pop doesn't suck"), finding Mould and Hart honing their individual song writing sensibilities, escaping from the confines of hardcore. Yet, the band was still capable of churning out ball-stomping anger jams (?). "New Day Rising" opens with the bass-snare-bass-snare stomp of the title track, repetitive and climactic. True garage band hypnotism, but with an attitude. Mould's guitar spirals in and out, like psychedelic shrapnel played with razor blades.

As mentioned, Mould and Hart continue to duel in the song writing department (the ol' "my song's better than your song"). There's Hart's "Terms of Psychic Warfare," a bouncy number just dirtied up enough to miss being commissioned by Sesame Street. How 'bout Mould's, "I Apologize," a song as equally pissed off as it is catchy? But wait, what about Hart's "Books About UFOs," with its skipping down the street piano lead-in that just bubblegums the shit out of "I Apologize" in a good way? Whoa then, hold on. Just turn the record back to Side-A for Mould's "Celebrated Summer", and don't tell me it's not the anthem to end all... uhh, summers. Forget "Pomp and Circumstance." Kids, petition to get "Celebrated Summer" at your graduations instead. And these are only a few on the best tracks on here!

After all this reveling in what would be known as "alternative rock," the album closes with three oddballs (the drugged out "How to Skin a Cat," the short-lived dip back into the hardcore jacuzzi with "Watcha Drinkin," and the Motorhead-esque guitar-riff driven "Plans I Make"). It's a dizzying, and weak finish to such a strong album, but still has the power to kind of fascinate. Ehhh, nevermind. "How to Skin a Cat" is a waste of my minutes.

Where "New Day Rising" falls short, is its TERRIBLE production. Recorded by SST Records' house engineer, SPOT, one can only discern there was a serious lack of money and time after "Zen Arcade's" marathon sessions less than a year earlier. "Powerline" and "Perfect Example" are two tracks with some great fuzzed out guitar jangle that suffer from whatever the fuck the vocals are supposed to be doing. Are they hidden, and drop in and out on purpose? I think not. Speaking of fuzzed out, Mould's guitar just sounds like it's being trebbled to death, and Greg Norton's bass is in serious need of a volume boost in many sections. But such disarray in fidelity almost adds to the band's desire to get these songs out NOW, and makes the album that much more enjoyable!

Has their been a band since The Beatles that had tried something so daring as releasing two flourishing albums in under a year that didn't age poorly over time? I mean, I'm sure you can argue Clapton or Pearl Jam or someone did it, but come on now. Don't be silly.

10/10

Husker Du- "Zen Arcade"

Husker Du
"Zen Arcade"
SST Records
1984

You and a couple dudes start a punk band. You play as fast as your uppers and muscles will allow you. You release a shitty sounding live album, some more punk records, tour relentlessly. What's next on the list? Hmmm, how about lock yourself away in an abandoned church in Minnesota and construct a double concept album about a fucked up kid finding religion, drugs, comfort in his own homosexuality after leaving home, and coming to realize things are all fucked up no matter what? If any of my friends told me this was to be their path, I'd have a chuckle and say "good luck making that piece of shit, guys."

Instead, that's what Husker Du did in 1984, releasing a pretentiously overloaded piece of punk coneptuality (a word? well it is now). "Zen Arcade" is the classic double LP, 23 song overload from the same band who brought you the blink-and-you'll-miss-it fury of songs like "Punch Drunk" and "Let's Go Die," some two years earlier. Okay, "Zen Arcade" still retains moments of incredible speed, and as an extremely angry record, but with a barge load of ideas and daring experiments thrown into what was still a tight minded community in many ways. This is the first true kitchen-sink punk album. Perhaps most importantly, the melodic leanings began to shine in both Bob Mould's and Grant Hart's combative song writing efforts that shape "Zen Arcade."

Like their "Everything Falls Apart" LP, the album opens with marching-esque drum rolls, but ones that sound like their moving forward rather than trying to make and immediate statement. Mould's guitar work on said opener, "Something I Learned Today," is also filled with melodic jabs; immediate as fuck, yet toe-tapping. Mould's best punk song to that point, until possibly later in the album.

From there, we're bombarded with bitter acoustic folk (Hart's "Never Talking to You Again"), tape loop interludes ("Dreams Reoccurring"), patience-trying psychedelia ("Hare Krisna"), scalding hardcore ("Beyond the Threshold," "Pride"), creepy bass-driven sea shanties ("Standing by the Sea"), arena-worthy punk rock ("Turn on the News"), and piano cuts straight from the credits of an after-school special, but with soap opera titles ("One Step at a Time," "Monday will Never be the Same"). And after all that, how do they wrap it up? With a 14 fucking minute, 2-track recording of free noise association, glued together with a repeating guitar and bass lines that fade into an extended frequency, until the needle falls off the groove.

Is it all a punk opera? I don't know, but if it is it's actually a good rock opera. Honestly, I don't know what the full narrative is. If over the years I'd read it was a Kafkian tale about a mailman who turned into a dog in an ironic twist of fate, I'd buy that. Bottom line, "Zen Arcade" is a fucking mess. It makes no sense. There's too much bullshit stacked on top of more bullshit. It's more unorganized that "The White Album" (and that album's a pop junkyard). It was recorded AND mixed in 80 straight hours and it shows. AND, IT'S AMAZING.

One of the most astounding albums in punk history, that gets better with age. One of those rare records that manages to be an oddity and a masterpiece. Thank God the Huskers were all fucked up on drugs at this point, 'cause they'd probably try and do something foolish like release 2 more amazing albums in the next 14 months. Oh, wait.

9/10

Husker Du- "Metal Cirucs" EP

Husker Du
"Metal Circus" EP
SST Records
1983


For all those familiar with X-mas anticipation, I've got scenario for ya'. Your 9 years old and it's Christmas Eve. December 23rd kind of fucking dragged, but in retrospect you kind of enjoyed the build up. You know tomorrow, Christmas will fucking rule to high heaven, religious references to heaven not withstanding. So your family comes over and you're shitting your pants over receiving pre-gifts. It's become a bonus fun day. But then you unwrap it all to find out you now own one kick ass toy and five itchy sweaters. If you're of other celebratory faiths, I implore you to take in a holiday film or two. If you know what I mean, you can get an idea behind the essence of “Metal Circus.” By this point, Bob, Grant, and Greg cemented their reputation as a relentless touring band that could steamroll out both power-chord rants, and releases. This 7 song EP falls between the nervous "Everything Falls Apart" LP and the right around the corner opus, "Zen Arcade."

"Metal Circus," the band's first on SST Records, takes further baby steps toward poppier territory, much more than the small glimpses on “Everything Falls Apart.” The pop aspect is more prevalent through Grant Hart, delivering two songs of his own among Bob Mould’s typical fury. Unbeknownst, an indie Lennon/McCartney feud came to fruition on this EP.

The A-side blasts through four great songs. "Real World" opens the mini-album with an aggressive punk push that folds into bouncy guitar lines that you can whistle along to, or something snazzy-like. Grant Hart's "It's Not Funny Anymore" is not only his first shining moment in Husker Du, but the band's poppiest songs to date. And "First of the Last Calls" is a downright scalding piece of pogo-worthy rage with a guitar line lifted from fellow Minnesota indie legends, The Replacements and their song, "Kids Don't Follow." But who gives a shit, really?

The B-side, in comparison, really blows. "Lifeline" sounds like an outtake left off of "Everything Falls Apart" for sounding as boring as the song’s title. Grant Hart's "Diane" is 4 and a half minutes of downtrodden hooklessness, a true tale about a murdered St. Paul waitress that goes nowhere. "Out on a Limb" closes this phoned-in side. We're left with a bunch of mumbling that give way to screeching vocals over squealing guitar slop solos. The song’s about as interesting as advanced geology on a Sunday. So yea, way to get us all exited with the A-side Huskers. But fear not. The true surprises were soon coming for the listeners on their next release.

6/10

Husker Du- "Everything Falls Apart"

Husker Du
"Everything Falls Apart"
Reflex Records
1983

Following "Land Speed Record," the Husker's put out "Everything Falls Apart," quite a punk sounding title if ya' ask me. Ironically, things seemed to be coming together for them on this album. YOUCH, that's cornier than a can of Green Giant.

No, really. "Everything Falls Apart" is the perfect metamorphosis record. A "where we're going, and we're we've been” of sorts, without sounding awkward or discombobulated. Opening with a militant drumbeat, crashing down with Bob Mould's perfunctory guitar jabs, “From the Gut” walks a fine line of contrived attitude versus AWESOME FUCKING SONG. Following the initial stomp of the verse, the song expands into a section of airy, major chord strums intertwined with a melodic bass line? What the fuck punks? Basically, this is a side of Husker Du not found on “Land Speed Record,” but one that would become more prevalent over time. Leaving the endless jackhammer of their debut live LP behind, "Everything Falls Apart" is more an erratic jackhammer. This album ebbs and flows, jitters and jolts through hardcore blasts and some down right pop-punk moments from second song on.

"Blah Blah Blah" opens with a Greg Norton bass-riff that sounds like something a high-school kid would fiddle with, trying to emulate the intro to a Lifetime song. However, here it is fresh and starts the song off on a raged bounce, before diving into a speedy-fist waving chorus of profound statements, "BLAH BLAH BLAH."

Songs like "Target" and Grant Hart's "Wheels" (a great song for all you Manson family fans, nonetheless), show reserved angst without the hardcore daredevilry found on "Punch Drunk" and "Obnoxious." A proper recording of “Bricklayer” fucking rules here too. And to round things out, Husker Du through a wrench in the mix and drop a Donovan cover of “Sunshine Superman” smack dab in the middle of this sucker, and not a hardcore infused cover either.

This is Husker Du's acne scars album, a collection of songs that both find them equally embracing and abandoning their hardcore beginning. They seem hellbent on growing up, but still struggling to weed out the growing pains. Shit, the title track alone holds up to their best melodic mid-80s moments. Mould could have easily used a title like "Everything Falls Apart" to scare the shit out of your mother as you boot-stomped on her antique coffee table. But we're introduced to our first true Mouldian moment, confusion and angst at a fast tempo, not breakneck speeds; confessional, high-voltage bedroom rock. The beginning of the mid-west invasion.

7/10

Husker Du- "Land Speed Record"

Husker Du

"Land Speed Record"

New Alliance Records

1982

Who woulda thunk it after hearing “Land Speed Record,” that within 4 years this blitzkrieg trio of Minnesotans would go on to become the best band in the world? It all started with this ramshackle live album, a pummeling, nearly atonal mesh of erratic bass drum thumps and razor-thin guitar screed held together with chicken wire.

Bob, Greg, and Grant unveiled themselves to the world of recorded sound with this 2 sided live nugget, a bootleg quality slab o' tunes straight from the soundboard. The record's comprised of 8 songs on side A, and 9 songs on side B, undeterred by something as frivolous as groove separations between songs (the CD version later on SST Records is literally 2 tracks, Part 1 and Part 2 of this live recording). One can only guess that those at New Alliance Records had no fucking clue when these songs began and ended, possibly not even the Huskers themselves.

However, the argument of unidentifiable song bleed doesn’t hold up after the bombastic opener, “All Tensed Up.” In “Don’t Try to Call,” Gran Hart holds it altogether not with his drumming, but by somehow managing to yell “DON’T” at the appropriate times in the song’s chorus. A head scratching accomplishment upon second and third listens, as if 2 songs in the band need to already provide a vocal reference point in the song for us to wrap our heads around.

From there, the songs don’t differentiate much. It is more of the same with a few “fucks” and “yyyyyaaarrggg”s thrown in, played at literally one of the fastest tempos punk had seen so far. And with the overly appropriate-to-the-point-of-chuckling title, “Land Speed Record” brings to mind images of a runaway soapbox down “Dead Man’s Curve” or some arbitrary, impending-doom filled name, with an angry amphetamine fiend behind the wheel who doesn’t give two shits if he happens to mow down grandma on the way down.

It’s a shame that Husker Du never got a proper recording of these songs as there are some stunning blasts among the mess. Luckily, “Bricklayer” and “Let’s Go Die” survived on later studio recordings. But one can’t help wonder how Bob Mould’s frantic, guitar noodling on “Guns at My School” would’ve sounded spewing out at studio quality. Or to actually be able to identify what Greg Norton was playing on the bass during “Ultracore,” or, uh, actually every song on this album.

The Huskers not only wanted to emulate their heroes, Black Flag at the time, but possibly wanted to put them to shame. But t hey fall short, but with valiant effort. However, it was a phase they would begin to slowly abandon with the passing of the interesting, brief, and delightfully frustrating document of a night in Minneapolis.

6/10

Introduction to My Indie Nightmare

So for years I've been scrolling down reviews in old marble notebooks, on napkins, into lost computer documents. I've talked incessantly in my car while driving listening to these songs, these chords, all this shit coming out of the speakers. So, finally I'm attempting to scroll down these thoughts onto a blogsphere template.

So, hmmm, plans, plans, plans. What I intend to do... No wait, what I'd like to do... No wait. Okay, I'm gonna post some thoughts on albums by band, in chronological order. Hence, I'm gonna start with a band's 1st album and write the reviews daily straight to the last. I am I looking forward or dreading the days of The Fall and Guided by Voices? We'll find out by how much I'm drinking while writing them.

I'm starting off with Husker Du. Why Husker Du? I don't know, I like them. They're close to the center of my indie nightmare. What's my indie nightmare anyway? I don't know. I guess it's when I begin to feel bogged down by trying to listen to all these great bands, amazing albums, as well as complete shit albums and form thoughts about them, and in turn, turn what's learned into everyday life. Huh, that sentence was a bit of a nightmare. I'm not even gonna go back to read that because I might be diarrhea brain. Hope you enjoy this shit on here. Check back daily if you want. Thanks.