Mudhoney Articles
Melody Maker
7 April '90
Clear As Mud
Mudhoney
Kardomah Cafe, Sydney
Make no mistake, there is a place for Mudhoney's we're - hairy - and -
can't - play - all - that - well - and - don't - give - a - f*** - and -
hey - we're - just - making - a - racket - and - having - fun - and - it's -
only - rock'n'roll - anyway ethic. There has to be a place for it.
Whichever other way this thing we call rock expands, contracts, refracts,
implodes, reaches stars or chases its own tail, there needs to be someone
labouring at the basics, and doing so with enthusiasm, if only to remind us
from the sidelines this is what it's all about. Someone to mind the shop,
if you like, while everyone else is off pursuing dreams with butterfly nets
in their lunch break.
There's a place for Mudhoney, because unless we have anchors, we don't know
how far we've drifted.
Tonight Mudhoney's place is in the here and now. The here is a low-slung
room without sufficient space between the heads of the audience and the
ceiling to post a letter through, meaning any visual aspects of the
performance are rendered somewhat academic. The now is, well, right now,
which is fine, because Mudhoney's impact is all in the instant - it's all
been done before, but it's not retrogressive. And sure as spotty lads like
loud guitars, it'll all be done again, but it's not the future of rock'n'roll.
It's just something you have to actually experience. You need to be there.
Because live, as on record, when Mudhoney have their moments, they're great.
Pure adrenalin.
There are three great things. Two of these are the first two songs,
their two best. "In'n'out of grace", a mighty Hendrix-fuelled rumble, and
"Touch me I'm sick", either a warped testament to Funhouse faith-healing
or an ode to the joys of infection. The third great thing happens a bit
later on during a protracted technical hitc when Mark gravely informs the
assembled that "Tough guys drink tea". It's all in his delivery.
In an interview-type situation, Mudhoney will pledge total and unswerving
allegance to punk's doubtful credo, "anyone can do it". Paradoxically, the
band themselves stand as a dumbcracking contradiction. Face it, the entire
rest of Sub Pop's roster must rank as one of the most convincing arguments
ever that anybody can't do it, and even if they can, who really wants
music made by just anybody? (Wedding Present fans, don't answer.)
Mudhoney's most useful asset (apart from a fistful of fine songs, that is)
is their knowledge of their own limitations - they only play 40 minutes
because they know any more would be boring. They stick to their sound because
it's what they're good at, and because it's rock at its barest, most
fundamental, that's not a problem.
Most of all, Mudhoney know that the day they start giving a f*** is the day
they cease to exist.
Andrew Mueller
