Album Review: Mudhoney - Vanishing Point

Vanishing Point marks the ninth album of Seattle's perennial shitstirrers Mudhoney, and in many respects nothing's changed. Now considered elder statesmen of the grunge movement that they inadvertently became an intrinsic part of, Mark Arm and his cronies continue to shirk the limelight, focusing instead on venting their spleens to a backing track of dissonance and bluster. Taking aim at the youngsters vying for the types of crowns that adulatory music “intelligentsia” are rabid for, Mudhoney let fly with strong invectives on songs such as Chardonnay (“You've always been the critics' darling/Get the fuck out of my backstage”) and I Don't Remember You (“I don't care if you think I'm a prick/It's clear to me you're the same piece of shit”), and are as risible yet incendiary as ever. Filled to the brim with cynicism and snarling disdain, the band thrash through Vanishing Point with a strong sense of delivery and purpose.

They don't always nail their subjects to the wall, however. Douchebags On Parade hammers its point home then hangs around far too long, not what's expected in a Mudhoney closer. And What To Do With The Neutral, while at its core an amusing diatribe about people insisting Arm get a positive attitude, is fairly mediocre on every front. Yet even at their most tired, Mudhoney songs are rent asunder by the musicianship, and the four-piece are as furious here as they've ever been.

The true positive from Vanishing Point, then, isn't the music itself rather than what it represents. Mudhoney are still fighting the good fight, are blowing all other pretenders off the stage, and are a live force to be reckoned with.