Returning to the Barrowlands is always a privilege, but last night, it felt particularly special. It’s been over three decades since Sugar last graced a Scottish stage—at this very venue in 1994.
The sweat-soaked mosh pits and raw, cider fueled abandon of those days have long since been traded in for a room full of appreciative, significantly older and wiser fans, but the ferocity on stage has remained entirely untouched by the passage of time. The sweatiness was still very much a feature of proceedings.
A special mention should be made to J. Robbins, former frontman of 90s DC hardcore punks Jawbone. He provided an entertaining half hour with acoustic interpretations of some of his more recent solo output. These included a rather fine satirical poke at the senile buffoon currently demolishing 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue called Dear Leader. All the best with the guys at Homeland Security when you touch down back home!
Sugar’s existence in the early 90’s was a blink-and-you-miss-it phenomenon. Emerging just as the music press’ manufactured scenes hit a lull, somewhere between the demise of Shoegaze (Mk1) and mere moments before the dual tsunamis of grunge and Britpop defined the decade, they carved out a singular space. Fronted by Bob Mould, the architect of the seminal noise merchants Hüsker Dü, and backed by the rock-solid rhythm section of David Barbe and Malcolm Travis, they were a band that thrived on razor-sharp efficiency.
Seeing the original trio reunited, back at the site of their final 1994 Scottish appearance, felt like closing a circle that had been left open for too long.
The performance itself was a masterclass in barely controlled volatility. Malcolm Travis remains an enigma behind the drum kit; he navigated the set with a stoic, effortless precision that defied the furnace-like conditions in the Barrowlands. Beside him, Bob Mould looked and sounded as vital as ever, barreling around stage with unrefined abandon. While his trademark blue Strat may be enjoying a well-earned retirement, the black Strat he wielded last night was thrashed into submission, producing that unmistakable, gargantuan wall of melodic noise that defined Sugar’s sound.
For a band with such a lean discography—two full LPs and one EP—the setlist covered all the big hitters with a few B-sides and rarities thrown in. They hit the ground running with a monstrous rendition of The Act We Act, immediately followed by the Pixie-esque charm of A Good Idea and the driving urgency of Changes. It was a sequence that ticked every box on the wishlist. There was even room for a change of pace, with David Barbe stepping into the spotlight on several occasions to take over vocal duties. On Company Book his softer tones provided the perfect foil to the snarling, serrated power of Mould’s delivery.
Perhaps most surprising—apart from the fact that there was new material at all—was how well those new tracks, House of Dead Memories and Long Live Memories, sat alongside the classics. They were received not with the polite indifference often afforded to reunion sets, but with genuine warmth and appreciation, feeling natural, tight, and lyrically evocative extensions of the Sugar ouvre.
Picking out other highlights got tricky. The set might not have reached the 30 plus track marathon pace that Pixies hit in 90 minutes, but at 24 songs, they gave it a fair crack. For me, the night peaked with the trio of Tilted, JC Auto, and Helpless. A special mention has to go to the solo on Tilted—dark arts were involved, the kind of fret-shredding sorcery that proves Mould hasn’t lost an ounce of his edge, at least not in his fingers!
As the old adage goes, actions speak louder than words, and Sugar proved that their sound doesn’t rely on the energy of youth to carry it—it relies on the sheer, timeless quality of the songwriting.
The years may have passed, but the razor-sharp intensity of Sugar’s live performance remains exactly where they left it: at a volume and velocity few others can match.
Words and pictures: Calum Mackintosh @ayecandyphotography