Bob Mould - 'Body Of Song' (Cooking Vinyl)
2/5
By: Thomas Hannan
When you're not in full-on musical encyclopaedia mode, discovery of 'Body of Song' can go along these lines. Bob Mould. You recognise the name, momentarily feel ashamed at not being able to pinpoint its relevance more precisely, and decide to spin the disk just so you can kick yourself when it becomes blatantly obvious within seconds who it is you're dealing with. The vocals commence, and realisation dawns. Oh of course, Bob Mould! That Bob Mould!
You see, a few reverb-soaked words into the opening ever so slightly anthemic 'Circles' and it's clear, Mr Mould used to be in Husker Du - who were incredible. That distinctly rough but at the same time comfortingly warm timbre makes you feel at home, gives you a feeling you're in for a good record. A glance at the sleeve notes reveals that Fugazi's Brendan Canty sits behind the drums on it also - double trouble! But in comparison to his past, the voice is one of the few aspects to his sound that hasn't undergone a major overhaul. Things here aren't quite the same as they used to be. Talk of a proper return to a signature guitar-based sound is somewhat premature. There are unashamedly bright, colourful, electronically treated pop songs all over the place here. There are, it's chilling to say, vocoders...
They're used by a man who retains a certain grit and way around a sturdy rock melody, but it's probably fair to say that this is Bob at his very shiniest. On the crowning parts of this 'Body of Song', most of which occur in the foremost half, it's a shine which dazzles, lifting Mould's often bitter and impassioned rants to a place where a corking tune carries their sentiment infectiously, planting it right in the middle of your head. It's carried off with most success on the captivating 'Paralyzed', the multitude of production tricks not burying the fine tune but amplifying it to splendid effect. 'Underneath Days' too contains a fair bit of in-studio knob twiddling (quiet at the back), but works because it's the strongest example of the kind of tenacious, ballsy rock music that we love this guy to make on display anywhere on the record.
But as with most things slightly experimental (even if in this case it's an experiment involving a pioneer of alternative music dabbling in the more conformist side of things rather than vice versa), there are misses amongst these could-be hits. The shine starts to blind instead of dazzle, to the extent where all you can see is the sheen, and the tune is amongst the casualties. Moments where you either wonder what Mould was thinking or why Brendan Canty didn't refuse to bang the kit along with something quite so sickly do litter the disappointing closing half of the record, arriving in the overly vocoder heavy 'Best Thing' (believe it or not, Cher's favourite vocal aid is actually used quite engagingly earlier on), or the especially difficult to stomach sweetness of 'Missing You'.
As if to address his own sonic abandonment of the grime for the shine, the ninth of these curious songs finds us being posed the tricky question - 'who could live with me in high fidelity?' Given that we rather dug the first half dozen of the efforts here Bob, we might just manage to, but we'd demand separate rooms. Especially if you keep playing those damn electronic bells quite so loud...
Artists in this article: Bob Mould
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