Of all the tributes that have poured in for Grant Hart, the most powerful encomium could only have come from his former Hüsker Dü bandmate Bob Mould. “We made amazing music together,” Mould wrote on Facebook. “Grant Hart was a gifted visual artist, a wonderful storyteller, and a frighteningly talented musician. Everyone touched by his spirit will always remember.” Hart died at age 56, following a struggle with cancer.
He wrote many of Hüsker Dü’s greatest songs, but listeners only passingly familiar with the beloved indie-rock pioneers may be forgiven if the group member they had been more likely to recall was Mould. Although Hüsker Dü were active just from 1979 to 1988, their guitarist and co-vocalist has stayed visible in the years since, cracking ’90s modern-rock radio with Sugar, penning the “Daily Show” theme, and singing on a Foo Fighters album, all while keeping up a steady solo career. Drummer and co-vocalist Hart released music infrequently by comparison, and he was too often beset by misfortune, not least a 2011 fire that ravaged his family’s longtime house.
The paradox here is that it was Hart who wrote some of Hüsker Dü’s most immediately recognizable tunes. In the history of bands with dual and dueling songwriters, Mould’s passionate urgency often sees him associated with John Lennon. It’s an oversimplification, of course, but in this formula Hart’s sweet melodicism sets him up as the group’s Paul McCartney. This was a crucial role, considering it was Hüsker Dü’s catchiness that guided them out of the hardcore scene they’d tired of, helped spawn a soon-to-be-popular strain of alt rock, and made them Minneapolis music royalty (right next to Prince and the Replacements). As bassist Greg Norton once said, “I don’t tend to walk down the street whistling hardcore.”
Hart’s drumming could be billowing and powerful, but it was his songwriting rivalry with Mould that famously seemed to drive both—and Hüsker Dü—to greater heights. Tensions mounted, too. The trio split in 1988 in the aftermath of their manager’s suicide, as Hart fought off a heroin addiction and stared down an HIV diagnosis that turned out to be a false alarm. Mould’s tribute acknowledges that over the 29 years that followed their contact would be “sometimes peaceful, sometimes difficult, sometimes through go-betweens.” Hart always shot down the idea of a reunion, but with Numero Group’s upcoming release of a box set collecting Hüsker Dü’s early unreleased material, their devoted fans had reason to hope. Of course, his four solo albums, and a pair of albums with his post–Hüsker Dü group Nova Mob, also had shining moments of ambition and songcraft.
In 1988, when Hüsker Dü improbably enough sat down on late-night TV with Joan Rivers, she pegged Hart as “the wild one.” There could be a playfulness to his compositions, sure, but he also survived his share of challenges, from battling heroin toward the end of the band’s breakup to the fact that he, like Mould, was gay in an America none too accepting of homosexuality. “Grant was tortured for sure,” Numero co-founder Ken Shipley wrote in a note today. “But he had a hell of a lot of fun bringing you in on the joke, even if you were part of the punchline.” To quote the Posies’ song “Grant Hart,” “I can’t cry, I can’t apply a word to sum it up.”
Here are 10 songs from throughout Hart’s career that demonstrate his tremendous gifts as a songwriter.
“Diane” (1983)
Hüsker Dü’s first couple of albums, 1981’s live Land Speed Record and 1982’s Everything Falls Apart, were blistering hardcore excursions—the kinds of records that prompted journalists to say the band would never have a hit, according to Our Band Could Be Your Life. “Diane,” a harrowing tale of rape and murder that Hart wrote for their 1983 Metal Circus EP, suggested that at least with those kinds of irresistible refrains, the band might have a shot at a wider audience after all. Another Hart song from the record, the scene-skewering “It’s Not Funny Anymore,” also signaled his viciously sharp wit.
“Pink Turns to Blue” (1984)
Hüsker Dü followed up Metal Circus with Zen Arcade, their sprawling landmark album that included plenty of opportunities for Hart’s songwriting to shine. His strummy kiss-off “Never Talking to You Again” is the one that everybody seems to cover, and the guitar-blazing diatribe “Turn on the News” remains all too relevant. But the delicately poised overdose snapshot “Pink Turns to Blue,” with its angelic chorus, would be a standout in any songwriter’s catalog.
“Books About UFOs” (1985)
Clearly, Hart didn’t only write songs about death and depravity. This jaunty piano highlight from 1985’s New Day Rising draws out his playfulness, offering the kind of character study you can imagine having influenced Belle and Sebastian. From the same album, Hart’s “The Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill” also ranks among the band’s best.
“Green Eyes” (1985)
With Hart and Mould both writing prolifically, Hüsker Dü released a second album, Flip Your Wig, before 1985 was up. Hart again more than held his own, especially with “Green Eyes,” a sunny romantic sing-along that sounds like a lost hit. Also vital is the deeper cut “Keep Hanging On,” so insistent it prompted the Posies to sing, “Got to turn up ‘Keep Hanging On’ as if I had a choice.”
“Sorry Somehow” (1986)
With Candy Apple Grey, Hüsker Dü jumped to a major label, but clearly Hart had already been writing songs worthy of a major push. Wistful first single “Sorry Somehow” captures Hart’s knack for a catchy tune, and the way his lyrics could be tender and yet endearingly goofy all at once. What an apology: “Take me to the cleaners, baby,” he spits.
“Actual Condition” (1987)
Hüsker Dü returned to the double LP format for their final album, Warehouse: Songs and Stories, as Mould and Hart notoriously battled for songwriting supremacy. Hart’s folksy anthem “She Floated Away,” the story of a girl who lifted her arms and did just that, feels appropriate now that the author has left us. But “Actual Condition” better illustrates what set Hart apart, and why he and Mould might occasionally find disagreement. Hüsker Dü rockabilly? It works, and judging by the whimsical guitar licks, Mould may have actually enjoyed it, too.
“2541” (1988)
The title track of Hart’s first solo EP, “2541” was not inspired by some sci-fi prophecy about the future, but rather, an address. Hart goes into exquisite detail about the place at hand, as he recounts the crackup of a relationship. Performing in Minneapolis this past summer, Hart said, “I don’t want to bust any bubbles or myths, but it was just a fuckpad.” The feelings it evokes go much deeper than that, though.
“Old Empire” (1994)
Mould started Sugar, and Hart formed a new trio called Nova Mob. The band released two albums, including 1991’s conceptually grandiose The Last Days of Pompeii, but they were hampered by limited label budgets, as well as a serious car accident. “Old Empire,” buzzing power-pop from the band’s 1994 self-titled album, shows Hart’s ear for hooks intact.
“You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water” (2009)
Hart didn’t release another album until 1999’s Good News for Modern Man, which once again drew only modest attention despite displaying his usual charms on songs like “Think It Over.” It would be another decade before his next album, Hot Wax, saw him teaming up with members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor. That album’s “You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water” is a Nuggets-worthy garage-rock koan that’s been severely overlooked.
“Is the Sky the Limit?” (2013)
For Hart’s final album, The Argument, he deployed another elaborate conceit, this time involving John Milton’s Paradise Lost and William Burroughs. Highlight “Is the Sky the Limit?” is whip-smart folk-rock, and as hummable as Hart’s best, but the tone is almost elegiac. Still, a glimmer of light pierces through.
