hüskers top 10: #1, 2, and 3

In chronological order. Might take awhile.


1) It’s Not Funny Anymore

If the years have done anything to my ears (as a teenager—and beyond—my listening abilities were never even close to what one would term “sophisticated”), they’ve made one thing especially clear—the schism between Bob and Grant’s writing styles was never more startling than on Metal Circus.

Many have noted that the six-song EP showcases the first significant hints of the giant steps forward they would take on the subsequent double-album masterpiece, Zen Arcade. But while both Mould and Hart show their growing comfort with melody, it’s Grant who makes the most notable move away from the the confining constraints of hardcore. “Real World” and “First of the Last Calls” might have more nuance and better grooves than those heard on blink-and-you-miss-it Land Speed Record, but lyrically the songs are simplistic and undemanding, engaging in the same kind of sanctimonious holier-than-thou-isms Bob would so often cite in his lambasting of the hardcore scene.

Grant, on the other hand, not only masters melody, but mood. On this, the third track and Grant’s first lead on the EP, he is fucking philosophical, fer crissakes. Even the goddamn title offers multiple interpretations. Within the song’s swaying tempo, Hart reveals a ruminative depth and melodic maturity that is alternately existential, exhausted, self-deprecating, resigned and—depending on your mood—sarcastic. All in 2 minutes and 10 seconds.

Context certainly elevates the song’s impact—coming as it does on the heels of the self-conscious defensiveness of “Real World” and “Deadly Skies,” it is a welcome relief. But “It’s Not Funny Anymore” would slay even if I’d never heard the rest of Metal Circus.

2) Diane

Yeah, it’s through the rapist’s eyes. It’s anything but pro-rape. I feel sorry for people who take these things at face value, but you take that risk any time you’re dealing with printed or spoken expression, I guess. People want things made easy. – Bob Mould

Listening to “Diane” is not an easy experience, but therein lies the heft of its power. You have the words, of course … detached, calculating, matter of fact. Laying bare the horror in a way no other narrative could. Throbbing toms like a heartbeat, bass darkly menacing, guitar swarming cold and merciless. And Bob never wrote a better solo—or at least one that better captured its song’s atmosphere. Fucking chilling.

Mind you, I am no masochist, nor I am pruriently drawn to the ghastly details. But I am fascinated with those who dare grapple with humanity’s dark nature and do so sans exploitative cheap tricks. But why sing about such truths? Because, in my mind, that is one of art’s most essential functions. To delve into those uncomfortable aspects of existence with the hope of reaching some sort of reconciliation, some level of understanding, without romanticizing or fetishizing. And though often there is no answer, no understanding, but only grim, senseless truths, the effort remains an essential one.

3) Chartered Trips

The first three tracks on Zen Arcade establish the back story, but “Chartered Trips” is where the album’s narrative begins its dizzying forward momentum. Mould depicts the protagonist’s ambivalence, confusion and excitement with psychedelic grace, ruminating on oblivious horizons and disorienting deserts. It’s really the first time on record that Mould has dared to get poetic instead of political, and the stunning results leave me wondering what took him so long.