Dear Friends,
Sometimes I wish I was a crooner like Tom Jones. I definitely wish I could dance like the guy. He has some fine ass moves. That’s for damn sure.
Yesterday kind of sucked as I helped Rhondi out by closing down several of Doug’s credit accounts. Making those phone calls was way more emotionally taxing than I thought it would be. One lady who helped me at one of the companies said she had been through similar stuff and was very, very nice about it, but that made me cry a little.
It is still feeling so weird here. He’s everywhere. This is the same place I always looked forward to visiting him at and intellectually I know all this, but it just seems different and off. The trees seem so sad.
*****
The chair sits empty in the garage.
Belongings here and there
that now belongs to us, I suppose.
Nobody really knows.
He didn’t say.
The trees seem sad.
They knew how much he loved them.
Every night they sat together.
Every night there was a new expression
of lovely silence.
The shirts hang in the closet.
Would he care if any of us wore one?
Probably not.
He’s skiing or drinking beer with his dad or laughing
at a joke that I’m too alive to understand.
Or he’s just here, there, and everywhere.
Our conversations are one-sided
and maybe they were often like that
because he liked to reserve his comments
until the timing was just right.
Empty chairs and sad trees.
*****
Earlier this year, I professed my deep love for Mudhoney. My vinyl journey with them started with their 1989 debut LP, the appropriately self-titled, Mudhoney. I was hooked from the first chord of “This Gift” and the hook was lodged deep in my psyche. I already had Superfuzz Bigmuff, which was an EP that came out before this record, but when I saw this vinyl, I had to have it.
There really are no superlatives good enough for this record. It’s a perfect document of a time in history when a lot of us were looking for something different than punk rock but not so different that we couldn’t get a little pushy and shove-y when the band played live. Every time I saw Mudhoney in the late 80s and early 90s was a hot, sweat mess of hair, flannel, and fun.
Mudhoney is really everything you need from Seattle in those days. No offense to the other bands that did amazing things, but if there was only one record I could keep from those days and that scene, this is it. It’s that good.
I mentioned “This Gift” already, but it really is a barn burner to start things off. Steve Turner’s guitar work on this one is fuzzy, psychedelic brilliance. Mark Arm sneer-sings in the way that only he can (and get away with it) and, as mentioned, I was hooked right away on this record. If I close my eyes, I can see it sitting there in the vinyl bin in Zia’s on 7th Avenue and knowing it would be mine.
After making my purchase, I took it home to my studio apartment and let it rip. I think I have mentioned that I had some very tolerant neighbors, one of whom was very, very hard of hearing, so I never thought twice about playing music loud. I’m sure I couldn’t wait to talk about this record with someone, anyone, who would listen. Probably Alexa, as we had been dating for about six months at that point.
“Flat Out Fucked” is an excellent song title and an excellent song. Who hasn’t felt this way before? Arm, Turner, Dan Peters, and Matt Lukin were kind of enough to provide a sonic landscape to bring this feeling to life. Peters’ drums are especially tasty on this one and its follow up, “Get Into Yours.”
There are no dull moments on Mudhoney. Even the songs that aren’t quite as good as the really good ones are rockin’ and great. It would be easy to skip past “Get Into Yours” and go right for “You Got It” or “Magnolia Caboose Babyshit,” but then you would miss out on some great screams from Arm, as well as Peters’ pummeling beat.
Turner’s guitar opening on “You Got It” always gets me. When they played it live last year in Phoenix, I was floating above the ground for a while. As I listen and type right now, I can’t help but bob my head. It’s that fucking good.
As “Here Comes Sickness” rolls into “Running Loaded,” the record is really going full steam ahead. Both songs are just grunge classics. So many bands copied what Mudhoney did on this record, several of which I wrote about earlier in the year.
“The Farther I Go” and “By Her Own Hand” are also just about perfect. I love this whole record, as I’ve said multiple times, but it just seems to get stronger and stronger as it goes on. “When Tomorrow Hits” is heavy and satisfying. I can’t help but sing along.
“Dead Love” finishes things off and sadly, it has always occurred to me that this is where Mudhoney shot their wad. I know some people, the band included, would argue with me or be disappointed, but as much as I love moments from the records that came after this one, Mudhoney is their ultimate LP. Nothing else by them does it for me as much as this record and the first two EPs.
They’ve always held up their end of the bargain live, for the most part, but that is mostly because they play a lot of the really early stuff. I know I am kind of backtracking here on all the love I have given them via the written word, and I don’t mean to do that. I love them madly even though their later records don’t float my boat as well as the early stuff.
The thing is, everything they did is and was still way better than the best thing Guns & Roses ever did. I’ll shank a bitch who disagrees.
*****
See you tomorrow.
These are not the droids you are looking for.
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