“Amphetamines and Coffee” — Afghan Whigs
Posted in punk at 10:16 pm
A few weeks back some guy at a party started talking to me because he noticed I was wearing a Dag Nasty T-shirt. I was pretty excited because it’s not often I get the opportunity to talk about the impact melodic hardcore albums like Can I Say made on my life. Turns out, all this guy wanted to do was spurt out a self-congratulatory soliloquy about his 7″ collection. Oh well, I guess it’s better than trying to wing my way through a conversation about NFL statistics. Once in awhile, though — I come in contact with someone that shares a similar agenda: talk about the music we dig because it makes us feel good. The other day I had one of those convo’s with a friend I work with. We were having a serious conversation about the impact of data on instruction when suddenly our focus shifted, and we slipped into an ongoing debate we’ve been having for months about the greatness of the early Afghan Whigs versus their post Congregation material. I lean towards the early days, while my pal feels Dulli’s greatest output started with the release of Gentlemen. Don’t get me wrong — I dig the boozy soul romps found on albums like 1965 and Black Love. And what about when they turn up in the bar scene in Beautiful Girls when Rappaport tries to suck face with Uma hot lips Thurman? They were the first band to convince me that dudes with slick looking suits could rock.
But at the end of the day the battle is a no brainer, and I always come back to my early year’s staple, Up In It. Now, these conversations with my pal aren’t so much debates as they are a chance to get dirty in the sandbox, and allow our minds a short water break. In keeping with the spirit of the debate, I think my pal has yet to hear the blast of punk dynamite provided by the Whigs on their early releases. So, here’s one for ya’, pal. Be prepared to discuss tomorrow morning.
“Burn it Clean” Mudhoney
A couple weeks ago, I saw Mudhoney perform Superfuzz Bigmuff plus Early Singles in its entirety. It was an experience to put in the books on a rainy Sunday night off the Bowery. “Burn it clean,” howled front-man Mark Arm as his eyes penetrated my skull. “Burn it clean.”
The six songs on the Superfuzz EP was released by Sub Pop in 1988, and the singles comp came out in ‘90. During the fall of ‘90, or maybe it was ‘91, Mudhoney came to town to headline St. Andrew’s Hall. I quickly snatched up a ticket and made plans to hit the show with my good pal, B.J. Three or four weeks later, I was on my bed staring up at my Misfits poster blasting “In ‘n Out of Grace” through my crappy Kenwood speakers. It was the evening of the show, and I was readying myself for the experience. “Jesus take me to a higher place!!!”
“What’s going on in here?” squealed my Mom, who hadn’t yet quite come to terms with my undying love for the rock.
“Oh, hi, Ma. I’m going to Detroit tonight to hit a show with B.J.” She always felt more comfortable when I hung out with B.J. because he was Jewish too. “Don’t worry, I won’t be out too late.”
“You’re not going to another one of those shows. It’s Yom Kippur tomorrow, and we’re going to your Aunt Mae’s for dinner. So change out of those black jeans and throw on something presentable.”
It was worse then a pistol whip to the head. I put up a fight, tried explaining to her the impact Mudhoney had made on my mind in the past months. “There is so much I need,” I said, quoting from the greatness. “You can’t keep me from what I want to do.” And it went on and on back and fourth. But in the end I made the call to B.J., tears streaming down my face.
“Dude, my Mom says I can’t go because it’s Yom Kippur.”
“Bummer, man. Yeah, I got lucky — we ate early.”
“Click you,” said my phone.
Some 17-years later, and I honestly think I never ever got over missing that show. Superfuzz impacted my nerves in all the right places, and poked holes in the discrepancies I saw, but never knew how to articulate, except through the occasional broken bottle and angst-ridden curse. Hats off to whoever decided it was time to bring back the raw grunge for the masses to absorb one last time; clearly this was a unique album that burnt itself into the consciousness of the underground. Now, I can finally bury the hatchet with my Mom, and move forward knowing I finally got a chance to soak up the all the fuzzy splendor put fourth by four dudes from a band called Mudhoney.
