Bob Mould

Arriving after years of sonic bombast in Hüsker Dü, the reflective, acoustic nature of Bob Mould's first solo album, Workbook, was a bold statement of renewal. Like all of Mould's work, it's an intensely introspective record, finding him purging demons left over from the dissolution of Hüsker Dü. Instead of relying on raging guitars, Mould explores a wide variety of styles, from pure pop ("See a Little Light") to reflective folk laced with cellos. It's an astonishing array of styles, and the songs are among Mould's finest. For many observers, the record established him as a major songwriter, but it also established a way for underground post-punk artists to mature – echoes of Workbook could be heard throughout the '90s, from R.E.M.'s elegiac Automatic for the People to Nirvana's use of cellos on In Utero and Unplugged. But Workbook remains a stunning work of individuality, marrying a distinctive body of songs with an original musical vision.

A TRIPLE-CD of radio broadcast live recordings of Minneapolis' finest. Two of the discs feature Hüsker Dü live action, taped at a 1981 show in Portland and in Minneapolis 1985. Disc #3 features a fine 1989 performance, given by singer-guitarist Bob Mould (after the band split up) at a radio station in Germany.

In the winter of 2019, Bob Mould bucked the era’s despair with his most melodic, upbeat album in ages, Sunshine Rock. Cut to spring of 2020, and he has this to say: “We’re really in deep now.”

It's tempting to call District Line a return to form for Bob Mould – tempting, but not quite accurate. Mould might have started to wander into the electronic wilderness after his 1998's The Last Dog and Pony Show, a self-conscious farewell to rock & roll, but he revived his roaring guitars on 2005's Body of Song, so calling District Line a return to rock isn't right, even if its release on the maverick label Anti- suggests that this album may hark back to his Hüsker Dü years. Quite the contrary, actually: while there are plenty of guitars and molten pop hooks, Mould has yet to shake his inexplicable fixation on vocoders, and "Shelter Me" is a straight-up disco track, elements that he picked up in the years since Sugar's disbandment. Such exploration is at the heart of Mould's restless artistic spirit, a restlessness he's possessed since Hüsker – never forget that Zen Arcade was a concept album – but what's striking about District Line is that Mould sounds calmer here, even relaxed. That's not to say that he sounds complacent or that the passion has drained from his music, but for the first time he's able to mesh all his disparate musical interests into one cohesive album, one that sounds diverse yet unified.

The cliché that circulated after the 2016 election foretold a new artistic golden age: Artists would transform their anger and anxiety into era-defining works of dissent in the face of authoritarianism. Yet Bob Mould calls his new album Sunshine Rock.