Mudhoney: The Lucky Ones

When Mark Arm yowls "The lucky ones have already

gone down / The lucky ones are lucky they're not around" on the title track of

Mudhoney's eighth album, it's tempting to read it as a shoutout to all those Kurt

Cobains and Layne Staleys who checked out early. (Remember, this is the same

self-aware band that once sarcastically envisioned headlining a "10 Years Of

Grunge" celebration.) But everyone knows Mudhoney is the lucky one: Turning up

its nose at post-Nirvana expectations, it remained the same band of soused

smartasses who couldn't write a hit single if they tried—and for not trying, they've been

rewarded with eternal youth, even as their peers became dinosaurs. On The

Lucky Ones,

Mudhoney once again dances on the grave of grunge with a batch of spitting,

snarling blues-punk, reinforcing the notion that they never really deserved

that guilt-by-association. The limited recording time ("3.5 days, including

mixing!") leaves little room for overdubs—some handclaps here, a plonking

piano there—and this time out, Arm yields all guitar duties to master

blaster Steve Turner, robbing listeners of their often-fiery interplay, plus

half the energy. But lean and mean still suits Mudhoney like few others, and

from the ageless Stooges strut of "I'm Now" to the primal scream of "Tales Of

Terror," Lucky Ones is the sound of a band that obviously knows not to fuck with

a good thing.