Bob Mould's first solo album in six years (following the demise of Sugar) is unremittingly dark, direct, and brilliant. Entirely self-written, -performed, and -produced, the 11-song collection opens with Mould bellowing that he's "sick of myself, sick of everything I am" and ends with: "If I couldn't hold you I'd end it all." That last song is called "Roll Over and Die," if that helps provide a sense of the situation. In between, Mould rails with brutal bluntness about his personal and creative strife. Someone he "expected to grow old with" has broken his heart, and he's utterly grief-stricken. No matter how many times Mould insists he's "as useless as can be," and that what he creates is "bullshit," the urgency of such cathartic music argues to the contrary. --Steven Stolder
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