Three songs into Bob Mould’s set at the 9:30 Club on Saturday night, he sang, “The twentieth century has not been particularly kind to me.” Actually, he more screamed it than sang it, cords standing out in his neck and palpable rage spilling out over the microphone. It almost seems odd now that Mould can still deliver this line from his self-titled 1996 record with such vitriol; whatever the twentieth century’s transgressions, the twenty-first century seems to have been pretty kind indeed. He’s found a niche here in D.C., a place that seems to allow him the balance and the leeway to be whatever he wants to, be it electronic experimentalist, DJ night impresario, or punk rock elder statesman. I’ve been going to Bob Mould shows for 14 years now, and I’ve never seen him as confident or comfortable in his own skin as on Saturday night.

The early show started off with a solid set by the somewhat oddly matched openers, San Francisco’s Halou. Their dreamy pop, fronted by the rather enchanting voice of singer Rebecca Coseboom recalled bits of Portishead with slightly more rockish leanings. The dual MacBooks on stage were deceptive: rather than defining their sound with overly intrusive programming, the prerecorded bits were largely relegated to the undercurrent, allowing the band to sound like, well, a band on stage. Given Mould’s affection for electronics blended with more traditional rock instrumentation, and his excellent ear for melody, it’s easy to see why he brought Halou with him for this tour, even if their dark and floating sounds stood in stark contrast to the overdriven guitars and insistently catchy melodies of his own set.

Photos by Ian Buckwalter