MOGWAI - Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will

Remember the days when Mogwai was supposed to save music?

In case that sounds like the setup for a snide, derisive takedown of the now somewhat veteran Scots, it's not. Back in the late '90s, Stephen Malkmus' famous prediction that Mogwai were the "best band of the 21st Century" felt in no way an exaggeration. Everything about the mostly instrumental group's sound was primed to launch indie rock into some new plane of existence—taking the haunted minimalism and starkness of what was becoming post-rock and marrying it to both a simple melodiousness and—in particular—moments of destructive heaviosity. With ear-crushing live shows of legendary import, Mogwai's music changed how half of indie rock was being played, to the point where every second new band bore very distinct traces of their sound (if not a wholesale lifting of it).

After Mogwai finished pushing themselves to the absolute limits their style dictated (climaxing in the 20-minute brutality of "My Father, My King", a hallowed set-closer that bore witness to a forceful peak worthy of its title), the group began to explore songs that were shorter and that revolved more completely around melody. The first result of this shift, 2003's Happy Songs For Happy People, has endured to be (in my opinion, at least) one of the finest in the band's catalogue. Tracks like the vocoder-fueled ballad "Hunted By A Freak" revealed how Mogwai had evolved to write highly immediate, yet oddly expressed pop songs, while the massive middle of "Ratts Of The Capital" reminded us that their raw power was still present when they chose to exploit it.

But following this small victory, the band displayed a kind of cruise control. Neither Mr. Beast (2006) nor The Hawk Is Howling (2008) are especially bad albums, but they both found Mogwai a little aimless—more efficient than inspired, more competent than memorable. Now after moving to a new North American label (to Sub Pop from Matador), the brilliantly-titled Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will certainly sounds like a defining statement, if a little tongue-in-cheek.

Just as the title implies both an iron endurance and a winking surrender to the inevitable, Mogwai's latest gains great strength by playing entirely within their known sonic boundaries, rather than trying to break through them. "Rano Pano"'s endlessly restated riff is a stirling example of how well they can be heavy and robotic, yet still convey crackling feeling. And whether quick and to the point ("San Pedro"), languid and drifting ("Letters To The Metro"), or playing their unique strain of cyborg motorik pop ("Mexican Grand Prix"), there's just something about the record that feels far more at ease than on their past two studio albums.

Of course, maybe it's just me as a listener, too. While the band's output has not slowed down any (last year also saw a very good live album and film released by the group), the belief that they are the future of music has clearly waned. As much as getting over that can be a pain, by seeing themselves through to the other side, a new kind of appreciation has set in. New label. New record. In 2011, Mogwai are now just another band. They may no longer change the world, but they and their music are all the better for it.