Not doing a goddamned thing
Friday, 11. August 2006, 20:14:11
I grew up in a college town that didn’t have a whole lot happening. I spent a lot of time escaping into the surrounding rural areas or not-too-distant bigger cities. However, I was lucky to enjoy occasional periods of cultural fortune in my town.
The cultural amenities of East Lansing seem to have been planned to minimize one’s chance of encountering anything interesting. It was the place to go to find a Kinkade print. When the autumn semester at the university was starting, I would hear kids new to the town proclaiming their relief that their new home was not without a Taco Bell. “Oh, thank god for something reliably familiar.” Fittingly, most of the bars were very similar to one another, catering to lovers of all that is bland and easily recognizable. If there was live music, it was assuredly classic rock and Top 40 covers, terrible jam bands (e.g. Ekoostik Hookah), or the most dismal of oh-so-fucking-shitty slap-bass fueled “funk”.
Underneath all of this, though, much better things were happening. There was a lot of shit to be sure, and the good was few and far between, but at least there was something. Perhaps because Lansing was an easy stop between Detroit and Chicago, or because the university was home to a handful of worthwhile people (those who were neither aspiring capitalist fuehrers in business school, nor aspiring K Street republicans denied admission to Liberty University), or because the embers of the Mid-&South-Michigan 80s punk scene refused to fully extinguish, we had the privilege of some great local music. Bands were relegated to playing in basements mostly…but that was the most fun place to be, so who’s complaining. Bands from no more than a few miles away playing house parties on weekends…Laughing Hyenas, El Smasho, Bantam Rooster, Gravitar, Down, The Actionaries, Chinese Millionaires, Mule…these are the bands whose names you would see on tiny flyers, above an address in the worst of college housing and an admonition to bring your own 40.
This is all just a bit of background on my personal affinity for Mule. They were possibly the best band to descend semi-regularly into East Lansing basements. But they were so much better than that. They were a legitimately great band. You shouldn’t need a sentimental reason to like them.
Mule comprised former members of Laughing Hyenas and Wig, and for a time counted ex-Watusi Jim Kimball as drummer. Kimball would go on to fame and fortune during the Jesus Lizard’s major label sunset years. Since the sad demise of Mule, P.W. Long has gone on as one hell of a singer, songwriter, and guitarist. His albums are available from Touch and Go. You can’t go wrong with We Didn’t See You on Sunday (1997) or Remembered (2003). These sound almost nothing like Mule, but are just as good.
These tracks are from their self-titled 1992 debut. You should really buy every Mule record you can find. There unfortunately aren’t that many. If ever I get to making mp3s of vinyl, I will be sure to post their first 7”, along with Wig’s Just Obscene 7”.
Mississippi Breaks
Lucky
And I’ll throw in a track from Laughing Hyenas’ 1989 You Can’t Pray A Lie, possibly my favorite record ever (probably not quite, but it’s up there).
Desolate Son
The cultural amenities of East Lansing seem to have been planned to minimize one’s chance of encountering anything interesting. It was the place to go to find a Kinkade print. When the autumn semester at the university was starting, I would hear kids new to the town proclaiming their relief that their new home was not without a Taco Bell. “Oh, thank god for something reliably familiar.” Fittingly, most of the bars were very similar to one another, catering to lovers of all that is bland and easily recognizable. If there was live music, it was assuredly classic rock and Top 40 covers, terrible jam bands (e.g. Ekoostik Hookah), or the most dismal of oh-so-fucking-shitty slap-bass fueled “funk”.
Underneath all of this, though, much better things were happening. There was a lot of shit to be sure, and the good was few and far between, but at least there was something. Perhaps because Lansing was an easy stop between Detroit and Chicago, or because the university was home to a handful of worthwhile people (those who were neither aspiring capitalist fuehrers in business school, nor aspiring K Street republicans denied admission to Liberty University), or because the embers of the Mid-&South-Michigan 80s punk scene refused to fully extinguish, we had the privilege of some great local music. Bands were relegated to playing in basements mostly…but that was the most fun place to be, so who’s complaining. Bands from no more than a few miles away playing house parties on weekends…Laughing Hyenas, El Smasho, Bantam Rooster, Gravitar, Down, The Actionaries, Chinese Millionaires, Mule…these are the bands whose names you would see on tiny flyers, above an address in the worst of college housing and an admonition to bring your own 40.
This is all just a bit of background on my personal affinity for Mule. They were possibly the best band to descend semi-regularly into East Lansing basements. But they were so much better than that. They were a legitimately great band. You shouldn’t need a sentimental reason to like them.
Mule comprised former members of Laughing Hyenas and Wig, and for a time counted ex-Watusi Jim Kimball as drummer. Kimball would go on to fame and fortune during the Jesus Lizard’s major label sunset years. Since the sad demise of Mule, P.W. Long has gone on as one hell of a singer, songwriter, and guitarist. His albums are available from Touch and Go. You can’t go wrong with We Didn’t See You on Sunday (1997) or Remembered (2003). These sound almost nothing like Mule, but are just as good.
These tracks are from their self-titled 1992 debut. You should really buy every Mule record you can find. There unfortunately aren’t that many. If ever I get to making mp3s of vinyl, I will be sure to post their first 7”, along with Wig’s Just Obscene 7”.
Mississippi Breaks
Lucky
And I’ll throw in a track from Laughing Hyenas’ 1989 You Can’t Pray A Lie, possibly my favorite record ever (probably not quite, but it’s up there).
Desolate Son
