BOB MOULD/HER SPACE HOLIDAY
@La Zona Rosa, Austin, TX
May 7, 2002
When Bob Mould released his electronica-heavy album modulate. in March, fans were either bewitched or bewildered (or both) by its blipping synths and beat-crazy percussion. When he announced a tour promoting the record, the question was begged: how would the legendary singer/songwriter/guitarist replicate the sound on stage, especially when he declared he was going out sans band?

The answer, of course, was for Mould to perform with pre-recorded backing tapes. But this could lead to a static, uninvolving show—after all, how could there be any mistakes and improvisations, the kind of thing that makes live concerts exciting in the first place, when the performer has to keep up with his click track? A lot of folks attended this show worried about a stiff, dull performance. (A lot more folks didn't attend at all—this was the first Mould show I'd been to in ten years that wasn't sold out.)

While Mould did indeed play with pretaped backing, he didn't merely duplicate the record. For one thing, while his trademark guitar was pushed to the background on modulate., here it came roaring to the front. Flanked by two video screens displaying his own short films, Mould began the show with "180 Rain" and "Sunset Safety Glass," the first two songs on modulate. While on the record these cuts have little or no guitar, on stage the six-string reclaimed its rightful place in the mix; "Sunset Safety Glass" was particularly brutal (and, it must be said, a tad sloppy). It's always a pleasure to hear Mould's distinctive guitar tone, distorted, compressed, chorused and louder than an air raid siren cranked to 11.

He followed the album's order for the next few numbers, with unabashedly homoerotic videos accompanying "Semper Fi" and "Lost Zoloft." But when he switched to his trusty 12-string acoustic, he also switched tactics. The audience cried out with excitement when the opening chords of Hüsker Dü's "Hardly Getting Over It" rang out into the night. Mould immediately followed that mournful tune with another Hüsker song, the confident "No Reservations," backed by a languid R&B groove that made it stand out as the most radically altered golden oldie. After a powerful run through Sugar's "Hoover Dam," which has practically become his signature tune, Mould unveiled the biggest surprise of the night, accenting his playing's natural drone and moving into "Brasilia Crossed With Trenton," the impressionistic sleeper from his great solo debut Workbook. The crowd reacted with surprise and delight.

Then it was back to the Strat and more modulate. material: "Stay/Sway," an aggressive "The Receipt," a soaring "Soundonsound" (a future Mould standard backed by a sweet cartoon video), "Comeonstrong" and a viciously overamped "Trade." He closed out the main set with great versions of two songs that would undoubtedly make a short list of his finest ever: Workbook's deadly "Poison Years" and Hüsker Dü's pop anthem "Celebrated Summer."

Brought back for an encore, he strummed the 12-string for the harrowing "Thumbtack," the bare-bones ode to a shattered relationship that is the centerpiece of his 1996 self-titled album. Appropriately, this was the only tune with no sampled backup, though its accompanying film illustrated the lyrics quite literally. Mould went back to electric for the fan favorite "If I Can't Change Your Mind," which was transformed from the acoustic pop song of its original Sugar incarnation into an electronic rock anthem. The crowd howled appreciatively and Mould quit the stage once again.

Only to come back at the small but enthusiastic audience's insistence. One might think Mould would have no video or backup prepared for a second encore, but apparently he thought ahead. Both Hüsker Dü's infamous single "Makes No Sense at All" and Sugar's frequent set-closer "Man On the Moon" had both images and electronics to accompany them, though neither augmentation had as much impact as the melodies and guitar sounds themselves. After that sonic pop assault, it was impossible for any Mould fan to go home unhappy.

Her Space Holiday, an electronic pop duo from San Mateo, CA, opened the show with self-deprecating humor, a morose romantic outlook and a lovely sense of melody. Marc Bianchi and his partner Keely, occasionally accompanied by an extra guitarist, performed a brief set of songs from their latest album Manic Expression to a generally favorable response from a crowd impatient for the headliner to arrive. The duo's wry quips and catchy melodicism quickly won over the audience; despite the heavy use of blips and noises, the inherent tunefulness of the songs always stood out. Best effect: the robotic, Dr. Zoiberg-on-downers voice that introduced the band and provided segues between songs. It even read negative reviews of the band's music for the benefit of those who'd never heard them. The band needs to watch the self-deprecation thing, though—it's clearly too talented to get away with it for much longer. Michael Toland