Feb 08, 2008  |  By: Rebecca Armendariz  | COMMENTS     

Bob Mould is a legend and icon in gay and punk rock circles but as a local resident, he remains accessible to D.C. area fans. With his newest album, “District Line,” the 46-year-old pays homage to his hometown city in his own cynical way.

Mould told Spin Magazine recently that the title refers to the first question out of a D.C. hotshot’s mouth at a bar — “What do you do for a living?” — and he calls the ubiquitous question “the District line.”

Mould’s roots are in D.C. style post-hardcore punk. He fronted the band Hüsker Dü from 1979 to 1987 before releasing a string of solo records (“District” is his seventh) and leading another project, Sugar, for two full-length records and a slew of E.P.s in the early ’90s on Rykodisk. Sugar found a home in college radio heaven with “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” one of the band’s most successful singles, ringing with upbeat acoustic guitar charm.

Mould’s worldliness has expanded with his age. He’s still playing music and touring with a band, and he and his business partner Richard Morel deejay at Blowoff, a monthly dance night at D.C.’s 9:30 club. Blowoff has been around for five years now, and what was once home to a niche group of leather-clad bears has expanded to include all walks of gay life.

Mould’s voice is a deep, honey-coated baritone along the lines of Mark Eitzel, another gay indie rocker. “Stupid Now,” the opening track of “District Line,” acts as a warm-up with lo-fi guitar strumming in typical ’90s grunge style — until the chorus. The fierce punk in Mould has not died. He pounces with the lyric, “Everything I say to you feels stupid now” with the energy of a pubescent teenager. The frustration that welled up during the quiet verse reaches its boiling point. He then injects a modern flair by distorting his voice for the remainder of the song.

The first single “The Silence Between Us” will definitely please a liberal-arts-college, English-major fan base. Strummed verses, a raucous chorus of chiming guitars and Mould’s warbling, beautifully carried vocals make for a radio-ready hit.

Mould isn’t trying anything remarkably different with this record. His style hasn’t changed, his lyrics can still border on self-loathing (on “Again and Again,” he sings “A sad attempt at poetry / A sad attempt at happiness / The sadness of reality”). He was infamously “outed” by Spin Magazine in 1994, even though he has said he was never really closeted. But the universality of the themes he uses makes “District Line,” in addition to his other albums, not just for the gay community, but for fans of rock ‘n’ roll.

Mould has also been commended for the remixes he makes of other bands’ songs. The synthesized backdrop to “Shelter Me” hints at that, but the squeak of fingers over changing guitar chords helps keep the listener grounded. He balances dance tracks by following them up with his signature rock, as on “Very Temporary,” throwing fans back to their triumphant escape from ’80s new wave about 15 years ago. The album ends on a bittersweet note, with languid strings over simple acoustic guitars.

It’s easy to expect that such an accomplished musician would consistently release well-constructed, tight tunes like those on “District Line.” Even though Mould is older and famously reaches out to the gay community with Blowoff, the unadulterated pop-rock of this record makes it accessible to fans from all walks of life.