90s Kids Rejoice: Sugar, Good Flying Birds, and S.G. Goodman

After a long break, OG Brad is back to give OG Brian some help. Brian has been doing the Lord’s work in keeping this site going and growing, developing the new weekly “Quick Take” features about new releases on top of the normal posts. Brad has had lots of exciting life moments happening, including relocating (mostly) to Tucson, and there just hasn’t been enough space to keep up. Lots of great albums and some great shows to write about in the future, but he’s back in the saddle (given that his neighbor in Tucson is a horse stable) but a bit cranky this time to focus on a somewhat disappointing S.G. Goodman show and reviewing some of his key likes/dislikes at a show, sandwiched between Brian’s write-ups of a phenomenal new record from Good Flying Birds (which we were early to the party for back in January) and a revisit of a Sugar record that is not Copper Blue, but glorious all the same with the news that they’re coming back.

New Album: Talulah’s Tape by Good Flying Birds. Remember the early ‘90s? I certainly do. And man, it was great. No social media, lots of glossy magazines and local newspapers. Sure, it wasn’t great for everyone. But at the very least, back then, everyone generally agreed that Indiana Jones was the good guy in those movies (at least in contrast to the Nazis; regarding his plundering of ancient relics… well, we might have to take the “L” on that). “Remember when” may be the lowest form of conversation, but damn it feels good.

Music can inspire that “remember when” feeling. I’m not talking about music that’s rehashed or derivative. I’m talking about artists that clearly draw inspiration from past genres but add their own creative spin to make a reliable formula sound fresh. In recent years I’ve seen artists take influences ranging from power pop to shoegaze to Native Tongues hip hop to alt-country and update them for younger, modern audiences. Want the kids to discover Big Star or R.E.M.? Have them start with young’uns like Ducks Ltd. or 2nd Grade.

The latest example of this is Good Flying Birds. The Indianapolis-based band (which, until they started playing shows, was primarily a project of Indy/indie musician Kellen Baker) is heavily indebted to the indie guitar pop of Guided by Voices (the band’s name even comes from one of the songs on Alien Lanes) and the lo-fi sound of their debut album, Talulah’s Tape, instantly brings me back to late ‘80s / early ‘90s DIY recordings with a touch of experimentation.

Talulah’s Tape, released in January on Rotten Apple Records (which OG Brad was on top of in his roundup of great new records in January) and then re-released in October on Carpark and Smoking Room, is a collection of home recordings Baker made from 2020-2024. It’s catchy guitar hooks covered in 4-track fuzz and so much more.

The opening track, “Down on Me,” encapsulates Good Flying Birds’ sound right from the start, featuring catchy, head-bopping melodies just slightly under lo-fi recording. The GBV vibes continue with the single “Eric’s Eyes,” which transitions expertly from jangle pop chords to quick drum breaks to a manic burst of guitar solo insanity.

Good Flying Birds’ influences don’t begin and end with Robert Pollard’s band of Midwestern indie rock legends. “I Care for You” and “Every Day is Another” both contain just enough psychedelia to make Good Flying Birds sound like a long lost Elephant 6 band, with the latter song’s Casio drum machine beat offering the right amount of retro-inspired experimentation. “Wallace” and “Glass” show Baker’s punk influences, and the latter in particular highlights his skills as a guitarist, switching from power pop chords to intricate noodling.

Fellow Hoosier rockers Kevin Krauter and Nina Pitchkites of Wishy contribute drums and vocals to “Fall Away,” along with a DIY recording story involving voice memo drum tracks, dating shows, and a hot tub. The catchy hooks of “Dynamic” prove that Good Flying Birds make for a great on-stage with Wishy or recent tourmates Ducks Ltd. Even the album’s interludes are interesting. “GFB” is an instrumental that makes the most of Baker’s skills, while “Hard Ass Beat” is as its title suggests, albeit with the unexplained addition of a screaming ape. And then there’s the two ellipsis tracks – “…” and “…2” – the former being an electronic freak-out and the latter six seconds of playing the record in reverse to hear the devil speak.

There’s a difference between learning from, emulating, and building on your influences, and cosplaying/posturing for effect (for examples of the latter, see Jet or Greta Van Fleet). Talulah’s Tape by Good Flying Birds is a prime example of the former, and gives me that “remember when” feeling in the best possible way. Their sound and aesthetic remind me of what I was listening to 30+ years ago (shudder…) but the spin they put on it leaves no doubt that I’m listening to something new and creative and different. (Brian)

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Planting by the Signs by S.G. Goodman. I have long bemoaned the death of concert banter and the rise of album replay shows (i.e. when an artist plays an album from start to finish, in order). Both of these personal peccadilloes rose up for me during a recent S.G. Goodman show.

When done well, good banter connects you to an artist, gives you a chance to stretch for a second (I never sit down for shows, and, as the site says, I’m old, so a stretch now and again is essential), and process what you’ve been hearing during the show. An artist who can engage an audience also takes away a bit of the wall between performer and audience and offers a chance to imagine what it would be like to have a beer together after the show. Steve Albini’s (RIP) band Shellac famously used to do Q&A sessions with the audience during its shows; you can find a fun as hell collection on YouTube here. Patrick Stickles from Titus Andronicus, Craig Finn of the Hold Steady, the bands Priests, Florry, and the Bug Club, Open Mike Eagle - I can remember shows from all of them where there was humor, storytelling, and a moment to think and connect between songs.

At the start of a recent show by indie country artist S.G. Goodman, I was excited when she began a banter session after just a couple of songs. I am not on IG but am told she’s got an excellent page, so I figured this would be super entertaining. And it was. Until it felt like it never stopped. I wan’t exactly counting, but there were 3-4 interludes of upwards of 8-10 minutes each, where she covered everything from stories about the album (in one case more or less reciting in prose form the lyrics of one song) to life on the road to incredibly long intros of her band to the disdain her Western Kentucky family has for DC and government employees (this was during the government shutdown, so she was both expressing sympathy and apologizing, but without bringing the thoughts together into anything other than “this sucks and I feel bad, but my people hate you”). In most shows, one or two of these could have been entertaining and even refreshing. And there is no doubt she is a phenomenal storyteller and has a sharp and caustic sense of humor. But each of these breaks ended up transitioning from bringing a welcome respite to sucking the energy out of the show for me, making it hard to reconnect to the music once it began again (which I explain a bit more below). Given how few artists banter at all these days, this feels like a beggars-can’t-be-choosers moment, but it’s also a reminder there can be too much of a good thing.

The other dislike I have is of album replay shows, where an artist just plays an album start to finish, usually for an anniversary of some kind, or when they appear to need to pay some bills. After attending a bunch of these, I decided never to go to one again because it takes the excitement out of going to a show in the first place (I also never check setlist before a show). I want to remain excited at what’s to come, first and foremost, and also consider how an artist’s catalog over time works together. Other than an artist touring on their first record (in which case I’m hoping for some covers or unreleased stuff), the purpose of a live show for me is to not only experience the songs viscerally, it’s to deepen my connection to the artist overall.

To be fair, S.G. Goodman did not exactly replay her album from start to finish in order, but it was pretty damn close, with just two songs from the record omitted and two others shifted around. There was one song from an earlier album during the main set and one during the encore. For an artist touring her fourth album, this just felt odd and, frankly, made me come away with a sense that the new record feels out of place in her catalog. That’s a shame, to be sure, because of how her new record expands and deepens from her earlier sound.

It also was a shame because, frankly, while I generally love this record, it’s not easily adaptable to a club show setting (the show was at the Atlantis in DC, a 400-ish cap. club designed to be a scale model of the original 9:30 club), especially when the louder and far more energetic band Fust opens. The songs are largely slower and mid-tempo, and although the band sounded crisp, the show felt like it may have hit harder as a solo set or with the songs reimagined into a louder and bigger format. Or even just performed at a different venue. But when you try to be true to a record with this feel and tempo, all the more challenging to build in the long banter sessions because the hold on the energy feels shaky at best.

All of that said, there were standout moments. After the initial verses of the track “Snapping Turtle” (the song she’d explained in story form), the deeper verses came into a starker relief for me (“I grew up hard on bottom land/Where only crops should grow/Watched people reap what the demons sowed/And I take it with me everywhere”). Although I was wishing Bonnie Prince Billy had been there in person given how well their duet works on “Nature’s Child,” the song still struck a chord, especially the closing verse (“I call your name in sweet surrendеr/Oh, marry me in inclement wеather/You are my lady/And I’m the king of the junkyard, baby”). And the closing song of the main set was the stunning album closer, “Heaven Song,” which feels like a cross between classic rock canon songs “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and “Helpless,” with an allegorical arc and depth of emotion that stops you in your tracks every time. But it felt a bit too little, too late for the show itself.

One of my other strong feelings about shows is that every one should end with a cover. And indeed, S.G. Goodman finished her show, according to the setlist, with 90s alt-rock classic “Pepper” by the Butthole Surfers. Sadly OG Brian and I had left by then because, well, we were tired and feeling a bit let down. I guess that’ll teach me to make sure to stay to the end and get over myself a bit, but when you see video of how great she sounds when playing it, it only deepens my feeling about what more this show could have been. (Brad)

Album (well, EP) being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): Beaster by Sugar. Brace yourselves, American males over 40! That which was once considered impossible is nearly upon us. While we’re at it, American males of a certain age, your partners should brace themselves too. Because they’re going to hear about this for the next 10 months or so.

Sugar are back!

That’s right. Bob Mould’s post-Hüsker Dü, post-start-of-solo-career, pre-rest-of-solo-career early ‘90s power guitar trio (with bassist David Barbe and drummer Malcolm Travis) is back with a new song and a planned 2026 reunion tour. You can keep your $500-for-nosebleeds, football stadium, Britpop nostalgia tours. I’ll take some Midwestern melodic punk-influenced ‘90s alt-rock in a 1500-cap room for a reasonable price.

(Apologies to Oasis – not that the Gallagher brothers need it – but man they’ve been catching some strays from me lately. I love Britpop and have no doubt those reunion shows were amazing, especially in the UK. But I’ve never been enough of an Oasis fan to justify paying such high ticket prices. However, if anyone had offered to sponsor me, I’d have gladly donned a bucket hat, a Man City kit, and hopped on a Virgin Atlantic flight to one of the Wembley shows.)

Despite my clear excitement for the return of Sugar, here’s where I need to pump the brakes a bit. Just a bit. Since the last Sugar album, 1994’s File Under: Easy Listening, Mould has released 12 proper solo albums, and the six recent releases featured his most frequent touring band that includes bassist Jason Narducy (of Verboten and Split Single, among others) and Jon Wurster (of Superchunk). I’ve seen the appropriately-named Bob Mould Band several times (including, notably for me, my first post-COVID show) and the sets were loaded with punk energy, power guitar riffs, and a mix of the Hüsker Dü, Sugar, and Mould solo discographies. Now while every band is different – the Sugar rhythm section will naturally bring different skills, abilities, and tendencies than the Bob Mould Band rhythm section – both have the same guitar-bass-drum structure and both play aggressive punk-influenced guitar rock.

In fact, the Bob Mould Band toured while playing Sugar’s classic 1992 debut, Copper Blue, in its entirety in 2012. So while Sugar itself was on hiatus, Mould has, over the years, given us a taste of Sugar (sorry).

With tracks like “Helpless,” “A Good Idea” and “Hoover Dam,” Copper Blue cemented itself as one of the greatest rock albums ever, and certainly of its era. File Under: Easy Listening may not have been the same achievement as Copper Blue, but it was still an enjoyable listen with songs like “Your Favorite Thing,” “Gift” and “Gee Angel.” Wedged in between was Sugar’s 1993 EP Beaster.

The songs on Beaster were recorded during the Copper Blue sessions. Whereas Copper Blue is the considered the apex of Mould’s ability to incorporate pop sensibilities into aggressive guitar rock, Beaster is heavier, darker, and has more in common with Mould’s Hüsker Dü output. As a result, Beaster was somewhat of a mainstream afterthought in its time despite a degree of critical acclaim. And while the EP has largely been forgotten en masse, it still stands as sort of a benchmark IYKYK release for Mould-heads. Similar to Black Sheets of Rain, Mould’s heavy, downbeat, imperfect and divisive second solo album that some fans (like me) maintain a fondness for even if it failed to match the successes of its predecessor, the widely beloved and acclaimed Workbook.

It’s understandable that the songs on Beaster didn’t make it onto Copper Blue. In addition to being heavier, the lyrics incorporate a lot of religious imagery (the EP was even released during the Holy Week) and would have made for an odd mix with the more accessible tone of its predecessor. Take the largely instrumental opening track, “Come Around.” It starts with 15 seconds of acoustic strumming and from there it’s all pounding drums and droning electric guitar chords. Sort of Hüsker Dü-meets-My Bloody Valentine. Mould’s playing is beautiful and haunting, and gives the listener the first sign that this ain’t “If I Can’t Change Your Mind.”

“Tilted” is a blast of mosh pit mania. Having the guitars layered so heavily over Mould’s shouting vocals (“I hear a voice inside the silence / Speak your peace and all’s forgotten / I hear the static on the line / Remember how this all got started”) calls back to Hüsker Dü circa Zen Arcade or New Day Rising. And Travis’ drumming stirs echoes of Grant Hart’s. This is followed by the mid-tempo but relentless “Judas Cradle” and you can hear Mould’s doubt and frustration with every lyric, scream and power chord (“It goes back to your beliefs / What you said you never said / You’re trying hard to find relief / It’s not telling truth or lies / It’s about convenience”).

“JC Auto” allows space for each member of the band – Travis’ drum intro, Barbe’s impending doom bass line, and Mould’s guitar ranging from chainsaw-growling to distorted squealing creates a horror movie soundtrack feel. And that sense of hopelessness and despair seems like exactly what Mould was going for (“Passing judgment on my life / You never really got it right / I can’t believe in anything”).

Of all the songs on Beaster, “Feeling Better” is the one that probably came the closest to cracking the Copper Blue track list. Barbe’s stellar bass work, along with accompanying keyboards and interstitial cowbell, makes this the most accessible song on the EP. But the song’s bitterness is right up front (“Where in the hell do you think you are / And who ever thought you’d get this far / And was the travel worth the time / It’s time to open up your mind”) and makes it a better fit for Beaster. The EP closes out with “Walking Away,” another track seemingly influenced by My Bloody Valentine and built primarily around a pipe organ with buried vocals chanting repeated lines about “walking away back to you.”

Despite being a member of one of the most influential indie rock bands of all time, Mould has always been able to acknowledge and even celebrate his past while not falling into the trap of nostalgia baiting. After his brief foray into dance and electronic music in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s – during which, while living in DC, he hosted a regular DJ set with Richard Morel at the 9:30 Club called Blowoff – Mould released some of his best solo work, including 2005’s Body of Song, 2012’s Silver Age, and 2014’s Beauty and Ruin. While I didn’t see the “Bob Mould plays Copper Blue” tour, his recent live shows have been a thoroughly satisfying blend of eras. (Sort of like an Eras Tour. Has that name been taken?)

Which is why I’m excited for the Sugar reunion. The new song is really good and I have high hopes for the album. And for next year’s shows, I can see the guys sneaking one or two Beaster songs onto each night’s setlist. So if you attend a Sugar show in 2026, brace yourself for potentially overhearing an American male over 40 argue (incorrectly) that Beaster is actually their best album. Don’t get me wrong – Beaster is great. But Copper Blue is still Copper Blue. (Brian)