Oh man! Bob Mould! What happened to Bob Mould?! Matt & I went to see Kaki play tonight and Bob headlined and we had to leave after four songs. I know, I know, being from Mnpls and giving up on Bob is like being a Christian and saying you didn't think the crucifiction was realistic enough. When did Bob jump the shark? He's doing (not to mention him again) the Scott Stapp, or like, maybe worse, like that dude from Live (don't front like you forgot that cassingle/or that you just went to the 120 minutes tour for PIL!) --he ditched the first few consanants and pureed the rest of his lines with extended use of Now-owo-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-Now now now/Me-ee-eee-e-ee-e-ay-ay-ay-eye-eyeayeate / Oo-whor-ho-ho-ho-hoho-ye-ea-ea-ea-ea-ah-ah-ah --into infinity and beyond. And he sings through all the songs parts, does not let up, like he is making sweet love to his own voice--which only works when you are Ginuwine because if you are Ginuwine you have songasms instead of choruses. And he does not play the leads! Where is the hot licks?! He opened with "Wishing Well" and for the first .03 seconds I was stoked. He was like, emo-scatting. After he turned "Hoover Dam" into what sounded like a cut off Pearl Jam's Ten*, as played by a confident singer-songwriter at an open mic at Uncommon Grounds in Downers Grove, we had to bail because he is Bob Mould and our memories need not be sullied with this Purina Cat Chow he was wholesaling now-ow-ow-ow. I am crazy sentimental about Black Sheets of Rain ** and was unwilling to idle as he just fucks it to death infront of a paying audience, and after the nouveau treatment of "No Reservations", collectively, we ran from the theatre. I hate to hate, since he's practically the state bird, but my tip to ol' boy is ditch the 12-string pedal and step with the real. Do not step with the aye-aye-aye-aye -- that's Popeye's schtick.
(*best worst album cover ever - true or false? - with the fold out art work so it's a silouhetted poster of dudes doing a group high-five--sensitacho before their time!)
(** In 1994, I accidentally stabbed myself in the ass with scissors while listening to this record. I fell off a ladder onto them. I was on the ladder breaking my roommates cigarettes in half and gluing them to the place where the wall met the ceiling, to avenge the fact that earlier that week, I had walked into the living room at 4 am and he was beating off to Battlestar Galactica. I was also possibly still avenging that his favorite song was "Devil Went Down To Georgia" -- Britt was my other roommate at the time and can vouch for all of these things.)Posted by Jessica at February 19, 2006 12:59 AM | TrackBack