The first time I saw Sugar live was at the University of Iowa Memorial Union in Iowa City, on April 27th, 1993. That’s still one of the two most intense concerts I’ve ever seen, although I’m not a frequent concert-goer. I remember the music much more than I remember the band: huge sheets of guitar snarling out of the speakers and permeating my body. I’d never heard anything so loud.
I love Bob Mould’s work and I was not about to miss seeing Sugar at the legendary First Avenue in Minneapolis, as a kind of welcome gift to the Twin Cities from myself. I didn’t expect the same level of relatively youthful energy, but I know Mould’s stayed engaged over the years and I assumed — correctly — that he wouldn’t be touring with Sugar if David Barbe and Malcolm Travis weren’t equally dedicated. I got tickets to the September 12th show a few months ago and have been anticipating it ever since.
J. Robbins opened with an acoustic set; he was fine, although nothing really stuck with me. I appreciated his song “Dear Leader,” which is about the horror of realizing that you share a birthday with Donald Trump. It gave me more evidence for the assertion that Minnesotans will yell “Fuck ICE!” at more or less any opportunity.
Sugar came on at 9 and they opened hard. I don’t actually understand how Mould plays guitar. He’s frequently in motion, dance-strutting across the stage, sometimes windmilling his arm. He plays like the music is just emanating from his body, as if his guitar is just another limb whose movements punctuate those streams of notes and feedback. His playing looks too abrupt and energetic to produce those rippling melodic guitar lines, too rough, but there they are. I imagine it has something to do with the fact that he sees himself as a rhythm guitarist, not as a lead. He is undeniable, not flashy.
Barbe’s pretty great too. Definitely one of the highlights of this concert was spending more time watching the musicians. He looks like your dad’s favorite rangy mechanic, and he plays like he’s building a foundation sturdy enough to hold the entire band, which I suppose is his job.
Travis just hung out behind his drum set, mouth usually slightly open, looking a little bit quizzical, hammering out precise snappy rhythms. I don’t know that he ever broke a sweat. The dude seems like a total machine, in the best way.
I loved how, before a few songs, the two guitarists huddled in front of Travis, making a little triangle, cranking out the first bar or so before exploding back to their places. There’s definitely a sense of being a band to these guys, which is neat.
Mould — well, he was never a great singer and he’s still not. He still has the voice he needs for these songs, even the demanding “JC Auto.” Undeniable, right? Barbe sung lead on the songs he usually sings lead on, plus a lot of harmonies, in a lovely clear tenor that complements Mould’s bellow well.
And yeah. It wasn’t as loud as they were in 1993. Also I wore earplugs like a sane person. But I could still feel the notes pushing against my skin, echoing down into my bones, making me feel alive. Sugar is not huge on crowd interactions; Mould still took the time to soak in his hometown’s appreciation at the very end of the show. I’m so glad I saw this.