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.