The year was 1985 and I was depressed. Deeply. Due to a combination of a lack of resources and a lack of imagination, I chose a stint in the United States military as my post high school launching point. The fact that I intrinsically knew that I had no temperament to be in the armed forces did not impact my decision. The quixotic thought was that I would learn some invaluable skill that would launch me into success in the private sector. Doing eight hours of mind numbing data entry work while being constantly demeaned in the finest military tradition was not what I had planned. Living thousands of miles away from all of my loved ones was a difficult transition as well.
Culturally, I had moved from a pre-teen that was obsessed with Top 40 music to album/hard rock radio in my late teens and I enjoyed Rolling Stone magazine up to the point when I discovered Creem. Creem bestowed two fine gifts to me that year. After writing a fan note to John Mendelssohn, who graced the magazine’s “Eleganza” column with an awe-inspiring combination of eloquence and candor, we became pen pals. I was amazed at John’s ability to make the English language sing and dance and his friendship meant (and continues to mean) the world to me. Musically, I was taking many of my cues from Robert Christgau and when he completed his enthusiastic review of Hüsker Dü’s “New Day Rising” with, “Play loud – this is one band that deserves it,” it was my next purchase from Tower Records.
The centerpiece of the album is the glorious “Celebrated Summer,” with it soaring guitar riffs and the loud/soft/loud dynamic that the Pixies and Nirvana would often take to the cash register. It’s one of rock ‘n’ roll’s finest moments. Elsewhere, Mould’s burning resentment was captured in “Perfect Example,” – “A perfect example is all the things it’s done to me/I think I might lose my mind, but not my memory.” Mould didn’t want to forget his pain, he wanted to savor it.
Hüsker Dü had been marching toward this combination of melody and punk rock aggressiveness for several years. The band was never punk rock purists – their first studio album included a cover of Donovan’s “Sunshine Superman.” In 1984, the band released the double album Zen Arcade, which had acoustic numbers, piano interludes, a thirteen plus minute instrumental jam, the kitchen sink. Hart contributed two of the most conventional and best songs for the record – “Pink Turns to Blue,” your standard punk rock drug overdose lyric but much more tuneful than most, and the intense anti-media rocker “Turn on the News.” However, their best moment was never released on an album. In 1984, the band recorded a cover of the Byrd’s “Eight Miles High,” that is indescribably thrilling. Mould wails like a man that has been pushed beyond exhaustion yet has unconquerable reserve. In the words of Robert Christgau, Hüsker Dü , “transformed the Byrds' gentle paean to the chemical-technological sublime into a roller coaster lifted screaming off its tracks–bruising and exhilarating, leaving the rider both very and barely alive.”
On a personal level, Hüsker Dü ’s music provided a most necessary outlet for my own anger and frustration. It was cheaper and less messy than busting windows, but with the same cathartic benefits. Flip Your Wig, the follow up to New Day Rising, was another solid effort with the title track dealing with the benefits of fame (sans fortune) and the pop hit in a perfect world “Makes No Sense at All.” As the band grew more conventional, Greg Norton and his handlebar mustache would carry the melody on bass. Grant Hart had a light but fast touch on the drums, pushing the tempo with frequent snare rolls. Mould made his Flying-V sound like a punk rock hurricane.
The band transitioned from SST Records and signed with Warner Brothers for their last two albums. Candy Apple Grey and Warehouse: Songs and Stories show less inspiration than previous efforts. Between drug issues and ego clashes, the band was beginning to implode. This is not to say that either are bad records, but it would have been unreasonable and probably unhealthy to expect any band to consistently rage as fervently as Hüsker Dü did at their peak.
During the Flip Your Wig tour, I saw the band perform in Sacramento (with the Descendents in one of the opening slots). The group was so DIY, they didn’t even use a roadie. They set up their equipment, roared for almost two hours, and left the crowd exhilarated. During a bleak time, Hüsker Dü not only recognized personal and structural ugliness in our world, but also displayed an undeniable inspiration to overcome those obstacles. They gave a very unhappy young man a reason for hope.
Their legacy has been covered in Michael Azerrad’s essential indie-rock book Our Band Could Be Your Life, as well as by books by Mould (See a Little Light: The Trail of Rage and Melody, with Azerrad as a collaborator) and Andrew Earles (Hüsker Dü : The Story of the Noise-Pop Pioneers Who Launched Modern Rock). Additionally, Mould has returned to form this year with an excellent new album, Silver Age. Which you should purchase. And play loud. He’s one artist that deserves it.