Featured Essay: Nova Mob - The Last Days of Pompeii - Rough Trade 1991

by Tim Foley (aka T.J. Wolfsbane)

Before they called it grunge, before Seattle, before Subpop, there was Minneapolis in the mid-80’s. Young men in baggy clothes in basements, suffering through long cold winters with aggressive, chaotic hardcore, distorted guitars and savaged drumheads, lager and amphetamines. There came the Replacements and Soul Asylum and others, of course, but the most savage and frenetic of the 80’s Minneapolis bands was Husker Du.

Husker Du was a power trio onslaught. Bob Mould on Gibson Flying V, Grant Hart on the drums, Greg Norton on bass. What made them special was not just the ferociousness of their live sets, but the force of their songs – subtle commentary on consumer culture and dead-end lives, unselfconscious yet half-hidden behind the wall of hardcore thrash. When the weather permitted, they criss-crossed the Midwest in a battered van, playing wherever they could. By the time they had the audacity to release a twenty-three track double album, “Zen Arcade,” on SST in 1984, they had been noticed, and embraced, by third generation punks and college radio. 

Mould and Hart each wrote songs and sang lead, creating both a creative platform and an immediate tension. Mould’s songs were harder edged, Hart’s more playful. Mould’s voice was lower, more ominous, Hart could hit the high notes and carry a tune. The competition inspired both. If I was pressed, I’d say that I prefer Hart’s songs, which generally have a touch more melody and certainly have more wit.  

Regrettably, though, the story of this upstart, a story familiar to quite a few other bands, does not end well. The path: darling, talented, innovative indie band develops a following, releases some EPs and LPs on tiny labels, breaks out beyond the local to the national. Dreams come true. Then the suits show up and the band is signed to a major label. And, well (do we have to say it?), money and fame change everything. Drugs and alcohol don=t help much. Expectations weigh heavily. The music is no longer fun, it is now a product. Commerce must be served. Grant Hart became a heroin addict, and that addict was pissed that Bob Mould was getting more songs on the record than him. Husker Du imploded, for good and ever, in 1988, leaving behind some wonderful, unapologetic, influential records.

I found the Nova Mob album in a small vinyl shop on Polk Street in San Francisco in 1991. What caught my eye: Grant Hart’s name on the sleeve. He had stepped out from the drums and was playing guitar and fronting the band, writing and singing his post-Du songs. The title of the album was “The Last Days of Pompeii.” I later read that Hart considered it a concept album, with some kind of linking thread, but that notion, trust me, is just plain silly. The first and last tracks reference the world-shattering Mount Vesuvius volcanic eruption that destroyed Pompeii in 79 AD, but there really is no semblance of a narrative. What there is: three guys, bass, drums, guitar, and Hart’s somewhat incongruous voice over the top. Hardcore has softened, the arrangements and instrumentation are less confrontational. The guitar work is simple to the extreme, and eight-bar instrumental segments in many songs cry out, like a demo, for a non-existent solo. But the songs are catchy, driving, and, yes, fun. Hart is actually singing power-pop, and seems to enjoy it. My favs are on side two: the anthemic “Persuaded”, three chords and an attitude stripped from the Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” and the title track, about a poor soul strolling to the Roman baths when the whole frigging world blows up. The album ends with a volcanic eruption which might damage your speakers if you are not careful, and there you are.

Sadly, it was pretty much one and done for Nova Mob. The album is special because it was essentially – though not formally, the band did release a second, inferior collection, which contained filler in the form of recycled Husker Du tunes, in 1994 – their only album. It was released on indy label Rough Trade and went nowhere. There was an associated EP, but no single, though I hear many.

Grant Hart never really conquered his addiction problems and there were rumors of an HIV diagnosis. He certainly suffered health issues for years. He would surface from time to time with a solo project and endured the inevitable reunion queries. He passed on in 2017, age 56. He strikes me as one of those lost souls who, despite immense talent, cannot get past his own tendency for self-sabotage. Far too many of our dear rock-n-rollers are like that, aren’t they?        

Tim Foley is a writer and playwright, currently living in Sacramento. His collection of ghost stories, Tales Nocturnal, was issued by PS Publishing in 2025. Long ago, he played guitar for a few Bay Area bands and, even longer ago, he was the music director of an FM radio station. His website: www.TimothyJFoley.com