For a quarter century, Bob Mould has been making music that matters to lots of people, first as one-third of '80s Minnesota punk trio HĂŒsker DĂŒ, then as a solo artist and with alt-rock act Sugar. For alienated adolescents, college kids, and (among those in the know) gay men who felt at odds with mainstream queer culture, his bracing guitar playing and confessional songs have comforted many a darkened heart.

You could call Mould's the voice of a generation. But today, a better description is simply "hoarse." A few hours before his second sold-out Chicago gig, Mould could use a throat lozenge. Such are the consequences of his no-holds-barred performances. "I always think, 'Oh, I've got a show tomorrow, too,' but by the end of the night I've totally forgotten that," he admits.

Although Mould is touring to support his latest album, Body of Song, his current set list spans a wide gamut. "For the first time, with an electric band, I'm doing songs from all the periods: solo, Sugar, and the HĂŒsker stuff." To his surprise, some candidates he thought had no place in the program (particularly material from HĂŒsker DĂŒ's 1984 concept album Zen Arcade) fit fine, while others (such as seeming shoo-ins from Sugar's File Under: Easy Listening) were scratched because "they didn't have as much life as I wanted."

There's one more twist, too. "I'm trying to keep things optimistic," he reveals. "That ruled out a lot of songs."

This cheery shift in disposition is audible on Body of Song, too. Not that the disc veers into Pollyanna territory, but even cuts like the angry "Underneath Days" and heartbroken "Circles" feel direct, accessible. An unabashed Kelly Clarkson fan ("she can really sing, and she made a good rock record"), Mould doesn't mute his pop proclivities on "Paralyzed" and "Missing You," tracks that would dominate the TRL countdown if they were by Blink-182 or Good Charlotte, not a balding 46-year-old.

Mould has always known how to knock out an unforgettable hook—his 1989 solo single, "See a Little Light," and Sugar's "If I Can't Change Your Mind" from 1992 remain modern rock staples—but Body of Song represents the first time he has allowed that impulse to extend across a whole album.

"I feel more comfortable in my skin as a person, and I think that comes through," he says. "With this record, I was able to see my own experience as mirrored in the lives of my friends a little more clearly, and, in that, seeing that the work was more universal in nature, and not just about one guy writing alone in his room."

Self-acceptance has made Mould less prickly about his place in the gay world, too. With electronic producer Richard Morel (AKA Pink Noise), Mould hosts and DJs the Blowoff parties at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C., where queers can shake their booties to the latest jams by Junior Senior, Amusement Parks on Fire, and the Juan Maclean, as well as remixes of club-friendly new Mould cuts like "(Shine Your) Light Love Hope." Mould has noticed his comfort level with his sexuality rise as a direct result of Blowoff's success. "As the party went on, and we saw the variety within the community that passed through our doors, that helped a lot."

His increasing affinity for dance music has also inspired Mould to explore other musical textures in recent years—often to the irritation of some fans; his 2002 electronic album Modulate was bashed by many pundits. "Some of it was timing," Mould opines. "Six months after Modulate, the Postal Service album came out, and that was embraced by a lot of people."

But Ben Gibbard fans have grown up in an era where indie rock and dance music overlap more freely, while Mould represents a generation for whom punk rock was the antidote to disco—which may explain the double standard applied to his catalog. "People have this impression of my work being very pure, in the sense of using organic instruments," he adds, "so [Modulate] was way too much for them to comprehend. I understand. It was a challenging record. But the close-minded audience, they just want one thing... and if that's what they want, they should just listen to the old records."

kurt@thestranger.com