If incessant radio airplay and massive record sales are the measure of a band’s relevance, then Mudhoney hasn’t mattered since it first jammed on New Year’s Day, 1988. And yet, 25 years later, the guys still play the gloriously garage-y rock that was always more grungy than “grunge.” They’ll celebrate the release of their latest fuzzy, funny studio album, Vanishing Point, with a show at Neumos March 30 and an Easy Street Records in-store April 1 (unless it’s a joke).
There’s a simple reason why Mudhoney still exists when so many of its local contemporaries faded into obscurity—or garnered global fame and flamed out—according to drummer Dan Peters: “We consider ourselves a shitty punk rock band that likes to have a good time.” Talking with me by phone recently, he dryly joked around, but was serious about that. “We’ve always felt pretty comfortable with where we are and the amount of success we’ve had. We’ve never been reaching for anything. I think a lot of bands try to reach beyond doing it for fun, and then you get defeated and break up.”
Peters and his bandmates Mark Arm (vocals/guitar), Steve Turner (guitar), and Guy Maddison (bass) should know; they’ve seen it all in their quarter-century-plus Seattle careers. Bands calling it quits. Bands blowing up too fast, then facing impossible expectations. Friends overwhelmed by pressure and addiction.
Mudhoney has experienced its own share of dramatic ups, downs, and what-ifs, of course. Forming from the collapse of Green River (which would also spawn Mother Love Bone), the band was instantly perceived as ascending. The then-fledgling Sub Pop label somehow landed the guys a gig in Germany before they’d even toured in the U.S. Their raw first single, “Touch Me I’m Sick,” wowed listeners, and subsequent singles and Superfuzz Bigmuff EP (named for Arm and Turner’s distortion pedals), helped keep Sub Pop bouncing along rock bottom.
By 1992 the band thought a major label would offer more stability, and signed with Reprise. Seven years and three albums later, Reprise dumped them. “But none of us really gave two shits about that,” Peters admitted. They did care about losing original bassist Matt Lukin shortly thereafter. “The shows around that time, right before Matt left the band, were pretty bleak,” said the drummer. But things turned around when Maddison joined up. (Now it’s hard to imagine Mudhoney without his blithe, smiling, nodding-to-the-beat presence.)
Like some of his contemporaries, Arm got into heroin. Unlike some, he got out of it alive and healthy.
And Peters could have altered history twice in 1990: by jumping to Screaming Trees after touring as their drummer, or by being invited to join a certain band fronted by Kurt Cobain.
“I was fortunate enough to play one show, and play one song that was a single for [Nirvana]—‘Sliver,’” he explained. “When I got the phone call from Kurt that I was not gonna be their drummer, that they chose Dave [Grohl], I was actually relieved. The fun and excitement and the way that Mudhoney is and was—it wasn’t that way with those guys.” And he wouldn’t have been with them for long, I reminded him. “But lots of money, though, huh?” Peters laughed.
That sense of humor reflects the ethos that gave us the terrific, twisted “Sweet Young Thing Ain’t Sweet No More” and “Hard-On For War” and (catchy new single) “I Like It Small,” among many other songs. (And it explains this kind of single artwork.) Peters credited Arm with the real comedic chops. “He’s a super-funny guy—bright and intelligent. A lot of that always comes through in his lyrics.” And it’s true—Arm’s lines are often harsh and hilarious at the same time, Bukowski-ish winks punctuating verses, or entire songs turned into (deadpan or clearly sarcastic) jokes, as with “What To Do With The Neutral” and “Douchebags On Parade” on Vanishing Point.
But Arm’s intelligently tossed-off witty words are matched by Mudhoney’s seemingly effortless, gritty signature sound: Peters’ tight staccato percussion, Guy Maddison’s ever-galloping bass, Steve Turner’s hip-deep fuzzy chords, and Arm’s occasional, similarly raw licks. Their studio records bear the punk-infused energy and power they unleash on stage; you don’t hear production. You hear straight foot-stomping, grin-baiting rock. It’s the sound of having a blast.
Catch them live and you’ll feel the same way. (Adding to the fun: Arm’s typical prowling of the stage with weird/hilarious mock kabuki glee.) Neumos-goers are in for a special treat, according to Peters. “We’ll do two different sets,” he said. “The new record from start to finish, and then actually give people some songs they might want to hear.”
So they’ll be taking requests? “Um, no.”
Mudhoney next heads to Europe to support Vanishing Point. And then… maybe a date with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The drummer laughed the (entirely possible) idea off, citing a lack of record sales, then added, “Is there a Seattle Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”
Joking aside, the guys in Mudhoney are having as good a time as ever. “The fact that we are still able to do this, and have really great shows all around the world—it’s amazing,” said Peters, sounding genuinely amazed. “I think back to the early days, when everybody was caught up in the whole—stuff. It was certainly great for us then, but the high point is right now.”
That’s true for the band’s fans, too.
