Sub Pop Records
Mudhoney were one of the original bastions of the grunge explosion that dominated the early nineties; while never as fashionable or accessible as some of their contemporaries, their influence was massive. While grunge quickly died out, Mudhoney didn’t, and Plastic Eternity is their eleventh album, a testament to their longevity and ability to evolve their sound. Age doesn’t seem to be catching up with them, as frontman Mark Arm still shows he can still snarl with the best of them while they bring a psychedelic edge to their signature fuzzy tones.
Arm has always had a sharp sense of humour, but it has often been wielded more self-deprecatingly. 2018’s Digital Garbage saw the band move their aim outwards, raging at the state of the world. It was the band’s most accomplished effort since the nineties, filled with refined riffs while retaining a rough edge, brimming with anger and a sense of dread. Plastic Eternity delves into similar areas, Arm sounding more and more like Iggy Pop as he delivers snarling ruminations on the state of the world. However, sonically Plastic Eternity moves away slightly from Digital Garbage, utilising analogue synth sounds and even displaying some avant-garde tendencies.
‘Souvenir of My Tip’ welcomes you to the age of doom with its psychedelic squall as laser-like synths combine with hard-rocking riffs, almost as if the Stooges had been shoved through a time warp. ‘Cascades of Crap’ has a similar howling quality as Arm aims barbs at modern society: “Consuming frenzy/Producing never ending/Cascades of Crap”. ‘One or Two’ drifts into similarly trippy waters with its treacle-like rhythm.
Musically there are nods to punk, hardcore, and metal amongst the signature fuzzy overtones on tracks like ‘Tom Herman’s Hermits’, a tribute to the Pere Ubu guitarist of the same name. Several songs feature doom-mongering riffs that echo Black Sabbath, while the warped guitar breakdown on ‘Cry Me An Atmospheric River’ has echoes of MC5. But musically, Mudhoney are more than just borrowers, demonstrated on the thunderous guitar groove of the rebellion inciting ‘Move Under’ and the polyrhythmic percussion on ‘Almost Everything’. A particular highlight is the speedy riffs, and ragged bassline of ‘Here Comes the Flood’, which rattles along with real urgency.
Arm leaves little to the imagination throughout the record in demonstrating his seeming disdain for aspects of the modern world. On ‘Human Stock Capital’, he rages at the treatment of essential workers during the pandemic, half-screaming, “Essential means expendable” and “Get back in there/Don’t you know your place”. ‘Plasticity’ is a dual-slam at the state of the environment and the seeming indifference of the world, and at several times Arm seems eager to escape the mire. On the sludgy stomp of ‘Severed Dreams in the Sleeper Cell’, he howls: “I don’t wanna wake up”, seemingly content to escape reality. While on ‘Almost Everything’, he gets almost existential: “Will forever end?/How did forever begin?”.
Occasionally Arm’s humour drifts from biting satire into little more than childish toilet humour, particularly on the electric shuffle of ‘Flush the Fascits’ where he sings: “Drop the toothpaste in the toilet bowl”. But you can easily forgive him as the sentiment and intent are there, though the title of ‘Flush the Fascists’ had me primed for a punk banger and left me feeling a little short-changed. But despite Arm’s snarling mantras, the biggest takeaway from Plastic Eternity is the group’s musical prowess. Arm and Steve Turner’s interplay on the guitar is excellent, while drummer Dan Peters provides a consistent, unyielding rhythm. Closing on the goofy, tender ‘Little Dogs’, Mudhoney demonstrate they still have plenty of tricks up their sleeves.