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In 1991, I left Virgin Records after two solo albums, ended the Anton/Tony electric rock band, and toured as a solo acoustic/electric artist. Most of the songs for Copper Blue and Beaster were written in 1991, then recorded in early 1992. I licensed those two (and subsequent 1990s) albums to Ryko and Creation. Copper Blue was a great personal success, and it’s been wonderful to read the 30th Anniversary mainstream media mentions, as well as your comments and recollections on social media.

In 2011, I left Anti- Records after two solo albums. I had toured with Jon Wurster, Jason Narducy, and Rich Morel, released my autobiography, and was planning a combination “play/read” book tour. I was a guest on the Foo Fighters song titled “Dear Rosemary”, performed on some tour dates (both as house DJ and walk-on guest), and closed the year with the tribute show at Disney Hall in Los Angeles. That positive energy was the fuel I needed to write many of the songs that appear on Silver Age.

Merge Records and Demon Records both wanted to license the Sugar catalog, which was back in my possession. With the 20th Anniversary of Copper Blue coming up in September 2012, I also wanted to have a new release — a companion piece — that echoed the tone and feel of Copper Blue. I convinced Merge and Demon to license Silver Age from me. That album was released September 4, 2012 — exactly 20 years after Copper Blue — and was also a great personal success.

“They come for the past and end up with the future”.

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I often talk about environment being key to the work. There’s also “the cycle”, and my current cycle was fractured in March 2020. For me, “the cycle” goes something like this…

I carve out a period of time — usually three to six months — to gather up stray ideas from the prior cycle. I look for themes, I write and edit, then round up the team and head into the recording studio. After the album is mixed and mastered, I begin the promotion (press, videos, radio). Months later, the album is released and the touring begins.

I read reviews of my work, but for me, the main test of the new album is how the new songs fit into the live show. I get immediate feedback from the audience each night. When the touring is complete, “the cycle” is basically over. I go home, gather my stray ideas, and the next cycle begins.

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In some ways, 2022 feels similar to 1991 or 2011. I’m doing a lot of solo touring this year, Jon and Jason are busy with other projects, and my creative well is filling up with new ideas.

In other ways, this decade is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The last two years have had a profound effect on how people live, work, and play. My “cycle of cycles” was broken. The market is saturated with touring musicians attempting to make up for long periods of inactivity. Tours with bands and crews have higher overheads. Some concert goers are hesitant to return to live shows. It’s a challenge.

Anyhow. My current cycle concludes in late October 2022. I’m having a blast playing shows for all of you, I’m always grateful that you’re still interested in what I’m doing, and I look forward to seeing you at the upcoming Solo Electric shows.

Yours in music,
Bob Mould

Most of you already know how important the Buzzcocks are to me. From the book:

Early in my sophomore year, two concerts had a major impact on me. The first was at the Longhorn, with Gang of Four opening for the Buzzcocks. I was a huge fan of the Buzzcocks’ approach to pop songwriting and also appreciated the slashing guitar of Gang of Four. I was front and center for the entire Buzzcocks set, studying singer-guitarist Pete Shelley, watching his every motion. Legend has it that the entire band was tripping on LSD that evening—I don’t know, but many times during the set, Pete did lean down, off-mic, and shout the chord changes at me. It left a deep impression, and I became an even more intent student of their work.

I’d seen the Buzzcocks twice in the past ten years; both shows were very enjoyable. The rhythm section was tight, Steve was carefree and animated, and Pete’s voice was joyous and insistent — just like the first time I heard it on record in 1977.

Thank you for all the wonderful music you shared with the world. Rest in peace, Pete.

Greetings from Oakland CA. I’m ensconced in a recording studio this week, producing a new album for one of America’s premier rock bands. (I can’t mention the band, as per their request.) Somewhere in the middle of this week’s fairly intense activity, I managed to share some words about the newest single, What Do You Want Me To Do, with Rolling Stone. It’s the second song on my new album, and one of the easiest for me to play!

If you’re a guitarist and want to learn the riff, here’s the secrets: Standard tuning, except low E goes down two steps to D, and capo at the fourth fret. Those tips should make it real easy for you to figure out the riffs. Good luck hitting Jason’s high harmonies, though.

Studio Session is the first in a group of Granary Music videos that are central to the storytelling campaign for Sunshine Rock. I’ve gathered lots of footage over the past two years, and I look forward to sharing some of these moments with you in the near future. Anyone up for a Karaoke video of Sunshine Rock? I think the young kids (and young at heart adults) might get a kick out of something like that.

That’s all for now. It’s time for me to get back to work — this production job has a Friday deadline. After we finish the mixes, I return to Berlin to begin the European press campaign. And grocery shopping. Always the groceries.

So much of what I do with music and art is about trying to heal myself. I aspire to make things that will have lasting value in my life. In the creative moment, I forget about everything that’s going on in the world. I’m there to conjure and channel and capture my feelings. I can always edit and refine and detail those essential moments over time.

When I share a song, I’m always nervous. It’s similar to the preparation for a first date — put on my nicest clothes, check my ears and nostrils and eyebrows for stray hairs, and make sure my teeth are clean and my breath is fresh. With albums, however, I spend two or three years getting ready for that one night, the first impression, that solitary chance.

As the song was about to go live, I started having questions. Will people think I’m serious? Will people think I’m being ironic? Will people think it’s tongue in cheek?

I wasn’t expecting to see so many people saying, “Thank goodness, this is exactly the lift I needed right now.” I’m embarrassed that I hadn’t thought about the song having this effect on listeners. I was just going with the idea of an upbeat, simple, catchy love song about a couple of great experiences I had last August in Berlin. It’s the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (the song) of this album. As a six year old kid, I imagined that song saying: Welcome to our world, here’s the characters in our show, sit back and enjoy as we take you on a ride.

The six note signature melody, inspired by the bells of a nearby church. The breezy 60s American pop “bah-buh-bah-buh-bah, buh-bah-baow” vocals that appear in the second half of the intro. The back half of bridge two, when my Czechoslovakian string players saunter onto the launchpad. Those nagging Russian bots tucked into the far corners of the last bridge, taunting me with their “nah-nah-nah-nah-nows”. I hope you don’t mind me deconstructing all my sonic flourishes — the little gems that tumble freely from the sky and take forever to fashion into a crown of song.

That’s enough for now. Thanks for the thoughtful and encouraging words. I’m glad you’re loving the new song. And if you need another song with guitars and astronauts and hope, this one is pretty damn good. One of my all-time favorite bands, bringing the noise and the joy at exactly the right time. One more song like this and I’d say we’ve got ourselves a movement!