AUDIO: Helpless

So, let's analyze this beauty, shall we? One of the most perfect opening tracks ever, "The Act We Act" introduces Sugar's modus operandi with a fearsome blast of chugging guitar, quickly followed by Malcom Travis' walloping drums and Barbe's submerged bass. "I'm watching you walk, as you walk that distant way / Take that thing away from me, take away most everything", Mould sings, detailing one facet of a series of turbulent emotional themes detailed throughout the record. Then the chorus soars above the crunchy verse with the instantly memorable words, "Hours slipping by, as you watch the words collide / And now you're nothing more than another passerby", which Mould drives home with a ferocious vocal hook. Following directly on the heels of that powerhouse is the aforementioned "A Good Idea", which I learned later was Mould's attempt to mimic the style of one of his own disciples -- Black Francis of the Pixies. While it certainly doesn't sound like the Pixies (how could Bob Mould ever sound like anything other than Bob Mould?), Barbe's ultra-catchy bass line and Mould's sinister story move the track closer to the Boston foursome than pretty much anything else in his oeuvre. "He held her head high in his hands / He held her down deep in the stream / He saw the bubbles, the matted hair mixed in with seaweed / He started to scream, 'was it something I said?'"

The next track, "Changes", actually took me some time to warm up to. At first, I found the chiming, clanging guitar intro to be unspeakably annoying, and I would skip past the track in my haste to hear "Helpless" just one more time. However, after I'd lived with the record for awhile and had started to burn "Helpless" into the ground, I realized that "Changes" was nothing less than another crunchy pop gem, pretty much as good as anything else on the record. Mould had acknowledged the odd influence of the Byrds on his fiery post-punk way back in his Husker Du days, with their positively thrashing cover of "Eight Miles High" (which is widely recognized as one of the most effective covers ever recorded), and this influence comes full circle on songs like "Changes", with their catchy vocal melodies and chiming guitar lines run through the wringer of Mould's ever-present angst and the beautiful distortion of his amplifier.

Then, taking its position inauspiciously at track four, comes the whole reason that I was motivated to buy this CD in the first place, "Helpless". What can I say about this song, except that the sparkling guitar hook will bore its way into your skull, putting you into the titular state. The lyrics go around in circles, hovering over the idea of telling a loved one something important. "And now you find, as time goes by / You're left with nothing meaning much / Meaning I will have to try / To take your mind to places / I wish that I could help you / But you seem less than helpless / I always tried to tell you / Someday that it'd seem so special." Punctuated by Travis' machine gun snare rolls, the song is nothing short of a perfect three-minute pop explosion.

Although "Helpless" is the undeniable highlight of the record, the latter half of Copper Blue simply leaps from strength to strength, with Mould exploring every nook and cranny of pop songcraft, and filtering it all through his own distinct sensibilities. From the psychedelic touches that grace "Hoover Dam" and the closer, "Man on the Moon", to the perfect, simple pop of "If I Can't Change Your Mind", to the absolutely gut-wrenching expression of loss that is "The Slim" (a song which Mould had to swear off performing live because it was too emotionally draining) to the flat-out rocker "Fortune Teller" (a song that tends to get ignored, as it's tucked into the track eight position on a record that produced four instantly memorable singles, but it's easily as good as any of them), Copper Blue is simply one of the most consistent, quality albums produced in the '90s. The sole (slight) misstep is "Slick", a slightly awkward first-person account of a near-fatal automobile accident. Although the song conjures up an appropriately queasy atmosphere with Mould's de-tuned guitars and multitracked, echo-drenched vocals, it's easily the least impressive song on the record. However, when you consider the myriad of aces with which this album stuffs the deck, it's hard to fault a slight wrong turn. From the layered vocal harmonies of "If I Can't Change Your Mind" to "The Slim"'s harrowing portrayal of losing a lover to AIDS ("I, with your breath on my pillow / I, with the memory / I get to wait it out, never put it away / When you left, with your death / I felt anger when I looked back / On my pillow, what you used to say") to the hallucinatory imagery of "Hoover Dam" ("On a carousel, I can never tell / My direction home / Spinning down a hole / I'm losing all control / I'm down to the center of the Earth"), this is a record that simply does not let up, and continues to astonish with every new listen.

Like Sugar's renowned live performances, in which the band was known to plow through fifteen or so songs without stopping to take a breath, Copper Blue is the sound of Bob Mould telling the world that he is/was back, and in stronger form than ever. After two slightly-below-par solo records, and with the legacy of the mighty Hüsker Dü weighing heavily on his back, Mould had a lot to prove with this release. The amazing thing is that not only did he prove his worth, he actually upped the ante -- as excellent and essential as practically all of the Hüsker material is, I dare say that Copper Blue tops even the best Hüsker albums in terms of consistency and quality. Ten songs, 44 minutes, absolutely, undeniably essential.

-- Jeremy Schneyer