When he's on, he's really on. Bob Mould is able to turn distortion and feedback into melody with so little effort, you don't always notice what he's doing. The first track, Gift, is full of blistering guitar solos, but it's as catchy as the Beatles.
The rest of the album follows the same pattern, turning guitar tones into perfect pop songs. Mould has a knack for writing back-biting lyrics, too, reflecting on burnt-out relationships and betrayal. He sings sweetly, but you can tell he's not happy.
If every song was as good as Panama City Hotel, Granny Cool, and Gee Angel, this would be a five-star album. But too many songs are based on a single hook . . . and too many are played on acoustic guitar.
Like his fellow songwriter from Minneapolis, Paul Westerberg, Bob Mould delivers less than he promises. Maybe some day he'll make that perfect rock album. Until then, this will have to do.
Gift is a punchy opener. There is not a moment in the song that lets up on momentum. It really does serve the purpose for waking up the listener and making him or her pay attention. But then we arrive at Company Book, sung by Dave "I'm-shouting-into-a-bucket" Barbe. It's really fortunate that you can't hear him because the lyrics are not good. It's elementary preaching-to-the-choir rhetoric about how corporate bosses run everyone like sheep. A message that could have been stated more eloquently.
Your Favorite Thing is nice and vibrant, peppy; true punk-pop. But it's followed by the ever-mediocre What You Want It To Be. It's just a song with lots of distortion and repetition. Then it's GEE ANGEL! This is one of Sugar's best songs, with the energy behind it to convince you. The music is solid and Mould's vocal performance pulls its weight in this should-be power pop classic.
Panama City Hotel starts the second half. Now this is a song that lacks guts, and not because of its acoustic origin. It just whimps its way through to the last note. Can't Help You Anymore is another nice song that Mould wrote while avoiding his dark side (I guess he exocised most of it with 1993's Beaster) in the vein of Your Favorite Thing. Granny Cool comes up next, and I really like the message of this song: making fun of old people who try to be hip: "you look like such a fool/hey look it's granny cool!" I think that's pretty funny. But the vocals are melodyless and the guitars sound like sludge.
Can't Believe What You're Saying reinstates Bob's ability to write with the acoustic guitar. Although it does not succeed as a sequel to If I Can't Change Your Mind from Copper Blue, this is a pretty good song. It once again shows that Mould can be a tad cheery to his own devices. Explode and Make Up is probably FUEL's most sinister moment. What seems to be about personal spats is taken to a personal extremeties as Bob shouts "I hate you/explode and make up." So the CD concludes with a rather sobering impression, but that's Bob Mould for you! He has to get angry somewhere.
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But is it good? Yes. Everything Bob Mould does is pretty good and at least worth a glance. I'd put this on the same level as Mould's self-titled album (released right after this). Good stuff. I'd look into (at least) "Copper Blue" and later Husker Du albums first, though.
Here, of course, it's all Bob Mould, and therefore the songs start sounding very indistinguishable from one another. There are only a few stand-out tracks, like "Believe What You're Saying." The others just get weighted down in the white-noise-guitar-wash production.