I can admit it. I latched onto the whole grunge thing in the early ‘90s. I was seventeen years old in a small town. I had given up punk rock and skateboarding a few years earlier because I was sick of getting in fights with rednecks and metalheads. I was already on my way back to where I belonged by listening to Pixies and Sonic Youth, but then Nirvana happened and suddenly there was this whole thing and bands were everywhere. Of all those Seattle bands, Mudhoney was always my favorite, probably because they were less metal and more garage/trash punk… And they covered The Dicks. I find it amusing that these long couple of decades later that Mudhoney is one of the only bands from that era still standing. Kind of like that guy who shows up at your high school reunion. He always drank more, did more drugs, and generally did all the stupid shit that everyone else had at least one shred of common sense not to do. Yet he’s there. Looking and sounding a bit rougher around the edges, but that smirk and glint of crazy in the eye are still firmly in place. That is Mudhoney in 2013. Vanishing Point has everything a good Mudhoney record should have: searing, effects-laden guitar, a definite groove behind the noise, and that sarcastic caterwaul that can only be Mark Arm. This record makes me happy. It shows that the underdogs who didn’t get swept up into the “twice an hour” rock radio purgatory can still put out quality music a lifetime after the hair farming “superstars” of the era have long dried up and blown away.
–ty (Sub Pop)