Album: Bob Mould

Modulate, Cooking Vinyl

This is Bob Mould's first album since 1998's dismal The Last Dog and Pony Show, during which hiatus he spent the better part of a year working as creative consultant for the (now defunct) WCW wrestling circus – yes, wrestlers need consultants, too – and elected to "re-learn the process of composition" on the new technology of synths, samplers and computers, rather than the guitar with which he invented grunge. Not that Bob's re-education seems to have altered his basic approach that much: tracks like "Semper Fi" and "Sunset Safety Glass" simply replace the guitar thrashes with keyboard sequences that barrel along at a ridiculous rate, like berserk piano players, while he attempts to impose a vocal melody over the top.

This is Bob Mould's first album since 1998's dismal The Last Dog and Pony Show, during which hiatus he spent the better part of a year working as creative consultant for the (now defunct) WCW wrestling circus – yes, wrestlers need consultants, too – and elected to "re-learn the process of composition" on the new technology of synths, samplers and computers, rather than the guitar with which he invented grunge. Not that Bob's re-education seems to have altered his basic approach that much: tracks like "Semper Fi" and "Sunset Safety Glass" simply replace the guitar thrashes with keyboard sequences that barrel along at a ridiculous rate, like berserk piano players, while he attempts to impose a vocal melody over the top.

It's no contest: in most cases, the songs are strangled by the barrage of speed-minimalism. Elsewhere, "Without?" and "Homecoming Parade" offer tentative excursions into musique concrète, while "Homery" is a short feedback/noise collage, like a potted version of Neil Young's "Arc-Weld". Unsurprisingly, the most listener-friendly tracks are those which draw on Mould's tried-and-trusted melodic-grunge style, such as "Slay/Sway" and "Trade", whose tunes are allowed to trace their serpentine beauty unaccosted by the madly cycling keyboards, and whose lyrics reflect a longing for the simplicities of an earlier outsider youth culture: "How long have you lived in a dead-end town/ Where there's nothing around you/ But an empty garage full of nothing to do?/ It was fun to have a few friends over." And still is, I hope.