From "Under the Bushes Under the Stars" LP, 1996
Zeitgeist 1996: Most of the popular music is crap, not surprisingly, and there is a weird undercurrent of whiny, grunge-lite post Cobain suicide. Notably, Guided by Voices never was a grunge band, but zeitgeist influences all and if ever there were a moment that GBV were to think that they might make it bigger than dorky dorm room supremacy, as I have noted before, one is led to believe that "Under the Bushes Under the Stars" was maybe their best shot. If one is attempting to maybe try to make it big, one is wise to listen to the airwaves and see what's popular and see if there isn't something they vaguely can imitate to sell a bit. Probably it's not even that consicous. Probably we are informed by what's around us, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, often for some of each.
In 1994, Bush had hits with drivel like "Glycerine" and "Everything Zen." (Editorial sidenote: When this comparison occurred to me, I did some "research" that consisted of watching the "Glycerine" video on YouTube. Firstly, I'd never really consciously listened to this song as an adult; it fucking sucks. Secondly, judging from the YouTube comments, a lot of people still really, surprisingly, love Bush. Still, as YouTube comments go, I was impressed to see no misspelled racist screeds by toothless idiots, who I am convinced are the primary constituency of YouTube's commenter-base...so that's something.) In 1996 Dishwalla played an even drippier brand of late-grunge shit into a single with "Counting Blue Cars." "Red Men and Their Wives" is a metric shit-ton better than the aforementioned crap, and it's also better than Ben Folds Five's sniveling "Brick," which followed in 1997, but as no art is created in a vacuum, it's hard for me to not see "Red Men" as analogous. A better looking cousin, but the sort of cousin whose better haircut still can't hide the tell tale family eyes.
This song opens with the ennui of a gray morning. Lyrically, this song is not strong by Pollard-standards, but this opening line and the breathy sadness in Bob's voice is evocative, if not exactly revelatory. The slow building of the single guitar line builds behind the vocals. In comes a basement-y, reverb-y, effects-ridden, sitar-y guitar line in the background. (Is it apparent I'm not a musician? There's no doubt a name for this effect, but I am an appreciator of art, not an arter myself.) It's sad, see. Get it?
After that, the hook is played boldly twice before the band fully kicks in. When the band kicks in, this song begins to rock a little, but still with the melancholic plangency of the times.
All this sounds pretty negative, and a way it is, but I still sorta like this tune. I've been mulling over this entry and listening to it a lot lately. I think it kinda stimulates the receptor in my brain that might be primed for nostalgia for Bush but is too smart to actually be nostalgic for mid-90s sad-sack rock sung by pretty-boys. It is like the best Bush song Gavin Rossdale never wrote. (Editorial note: I'm not afraid to like catchy songs from "uncool" bands. I still like "Singing in My Sleep" by Semisonic...okay...I only really like the keyboard line...)
Or, you know, alternately, I could take the college-freshman-anarchist-with-one-semester-of-sociology-under-his-belt approach and declare the song racist and sexist based merely on its title. Firstly, "Native American" or "American Indian" are really the preferred terms. Secondly, by defining the wives as merely modifiers to the "Native American males" we are robbing them of their individual humanity the way the patriarchal structures of the West have for millenia.
C (but maybe I'm just inflating the grades like they were when I was a know-it-all-college-radical-who-had-taken-one-course-in-socilogy)
Favorite Lyric: Lyrically, this song is prohibitively weak, and I ain't gonna mine for gold where there's only lead.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Tractor Rape Chain
From Bee Thousand, 1994
I still don't get the appeal of Hot Freaks. But you know what I do get the appeal of? Tractor Rape Chain.
I think this song is probably one Echos Myron and one I am a Scientist from being unquestionably, UNQUESTIONABLY the best song on Bee Thousand. And Bee Thousand is good. Being the third best song (or better) on an album like Bee Thousand speaks to a staggering amount of quality. This song is absolutely top shelf.
Now
Let's go over what this song has going for it. Ok, structure wise, there is some thought put into this one. It begins with the acoustic guitar playing a charming little riff in a warm setting. You can hear the fingers moving up and down the frets, you can hear what is clearly a screen door closing. You can hear Bob say, "Come in." I can imagine the exact kind of summer day this was recorded on and the exact kind of kitchen or back deck it was recorded in, maybe on a handheld tape recorder and maybe spliced in later.
This intro ends abruptly, and intentionally so, and we're in a studio (of sorts) with a full band. The contrast here probably does little more than give the song more weight when it breaks open, but it works, specifically because this song comes after Buzzards and Dreadful Crows, which ends with a full tilt rock barrage. The intro serves not only to make a little space but also to ensure the song stands out. Of note is that the song that follows Tractor Rape Chain is the sleepy, minimal Goldheart Mountain Top Queen Directory. The meat of this song is an island.
The electric guitar that breaks in is playing variations on an A chord while the bass drones over and over and drums keep it steady. The riff is neat, doing a lot with a little, and the drums carry plenty of cymbal noise, laying a blanket of white noise hiss over the whole thing that holds it together like icing on a cake.
When the vocal line comes in, again, Pollard does a lot with a little. Though the music is based around one note, the vocal line moves around a lot with a few bends. It's anything but a drone.
When the chorus comes in though, what a jump! The vocals leap up at least a fifth, soaring with big open notes. The drums change here too, the ride cymbal gives way to a high hat and the white noise from the verses is now gone. It's like a moment of clarity in the middle of the song, again an island. That's not even mentioning the rhythm between the kick and snare in this part, which is just neat.
In the second verse, they switch it up a little bit, which is kind of rare for them. The drums are now doing a neat little tripple kick drum thing that kind of trips over itself. When Pollard gets to the line "It's a thing, I know it's a think I believe in," it sounds like he starts to say he knows but then starts over, saying it with twice as much conviction, the vocals again making a huge leap. That's followed with the whole band bringing it down before building on the beat, to go back into the chorus, which soars like the first one. The song ends with Bob repeating the end of the chorus multiple times, repeating double syllable phrases before resolving at the end of the melody line "Speed/up-Slow/down-Go/All-a/round- in the end." The end of this melody line is the lowest note sung in the song. I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, but it makes a nice counter point to the mile high verses.
Unlike most GBV lyrics, which don't lend themselves to any kind of interpretation, this is actually one of Pollards most straight forward, other than the title phrase itself. It's in the tradtion of songs about broken relationships that are addressed to "you." The parellel lines on the slow decline are Bob and whoever the song is about. Maybe his ex wife? Who knows? The specifics don't really matter that much. Who hasn't been the first one in a relationship to realize that the whole things gone pear shaped?
One of my favorite songs of all time and in my top ten GBV songs in a walk, maybe top five.
A+
Favorite Lyric: There's a ghost in my room and he says I better run. It's a thing i know - it's a thing i believe in. Won't you tell it to go away?
I still don't get the appeal of Hot Freaks. But you know what I do get the appeal of? Tractor Rape Chain.
I think this song is probably one Echos Myron and one I am a Scientist from being unquestionably, UNQUESTIONABLY the best song on Bee Thousand. And Bee Thousand is good. Being the third best song (or better) on an album like Bee Thousand speaks to a staggering amount of quality. This song is absolutely top shelf.
Now
Let's go over what this song has going for it. Ok, structure wise, there is some thought put into this one. It begins with the acoustic guitar playing a charming little riff in a warm setting. You can hear the fingers moving up and down the frets, you can hear what is clearly a screen door closing. You can hear Bob say, "Come in." I can imagine the exact kind of summer day this was recorded on and the exact kind of kitchen or back deck it was recorded in, maybe on a handheld tape recorder and maybe spliced in later.
This intro ends abruptly, and intentionally so, and we're in a studio (of sorts) with a full band. The contrast here probably does little more than give the song more weight when it breaks open, but it works, specifically because this song comes after Buzzards and Dreadful Crows, which ends with a full tilt rock barrage. The intro serves not only to make a little space but also to ensure the song stands out. Of note is that the song that follows Tractor Rape Chain is the sleepy, minimal Goldheart Mountain Top Queen Directory. The meat of this song is an island.
The electric guitar that breaks in is playing variations on an A chord while the bass drones over and over and drums keep it steady. The riff is neat, doing a lot with a little, and the drums carry plenty of cymbal noise, laying a blanket of white noise hiss over the whole thing that holds it together like icing on a cake.
When the vocal line comes in, again, Pollard does a lot with a little. Though the music is based around one note, the vocal line moves around a lot with a few bends. It's anything but a drone.
When the chorus comes in though, what a jump! The vocals leap up at least a fifth, soaring with big open notes. The drums change here too, the ride cymbal gives way to a high hat and the white noise from the verses is now gone. It's like a moment of clarity in the middle of the song, again an island. That's not even mentioning the rhythm between the kick and snare in this part, which is just neat.
In the second verse, they switch it up a little bit, which is kind of rare for them. The drums are now doing a neat little tripple kick drum thing that kind of trips over itself. When Pollard gets to the line "It's a thing, I know it's a think I believe in," it sounds like he starts to say he knows but then starts over, saying it with twice as much conviction, the vocals again making a huge leap. That's followed with the whole band bringing it down before building on the beat, to go back into the chorus, which soars like the first one. The song ends with Bob repeating the end of the chorus multiple times, repeating double syllable phrases before resolving at the end of the melody line "Speed/up-Slow/down-Go/All-a/round- in the end." The end of this melody line is the lowest note sung in the song. I'm not sure if it's intentional or not, but it makes a nice counter point to the mile high verses.
Unlike most GBV lyrics, which don't lend themselves to any kind of interpretation, this is actually one of Pollards most straight forward, other than the title phrase itself. It's in the tradtion of songs about broken relationships that are addressed to "you." The parellel lines on the slow decline are Bob and whoever the song is about. Maybe his ex wife? Who knows? The specifics don't really matter that much. Who hasn't been the first one in a relationship to realize that the whole things gone pear shaped?
One of my favorite songs of all time and in my top ten GBV songs in a walk, maybe top five.
A+
Favorite Lyric: There's a ghost in my room and he says I better run. It's a thing i know - it's a thing i believe in. Won't you tell it to go away?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Entry Seven Part Two: In Defense of "Hot Freaks"
From Bee Thousand, 1994
Firstly, allow me to disabuse our non-existent audience of a possible misconception: this blog actually has two authors! Not only is it bi-authored, it is bi-coastal. One dork, Gary, in Portland, OR, and on dork, me--Zak, in New York, NY, together bro-loving the shit out of the work of another dork, Bob, in Dayton, OH. We cover a lot of ground. Gary wrote the last entry that was railing against Bob Pollard for Hot Freaks. While his imagery about the crazy, sleeveless, domestic-lager-in-cans-swilling uncle is undeniably vivid, I feel it falls short of truly assessing "Hot Freaks."
I am more than willing to admit that "Hot Freaks" is not a home run, in spite of Pollard's status as the Sadaharu Oh of modern indie rock songwriters (wikipedia "Sadaharu Oh" if you're not as big a jerkoff baseball nerd as I am). This does not mean it is a failure. It also, of course, does not mean that Pollard hasn't absolutely and momentously failed in some efforts. (I'm building up for some total slamfests on Bob for writing "Hold on Hope" and the snoring in "Ex-Supermodel...wait for it.)
What Gary failed to look into is what it means to be Bob Pollard. Sure, in the most glowing view he is a genius of the Lennon/McCartney model, and at the worst a savant tunesmith, but he was also, at one point, an unheralded dude pushing middle-age with a day-job as a middle school teacher. Say you're 37 (I was totally wrong...Bob's 51 and going on 52 this year...sorry for earlier errors) in 1994, you've finally gotten enough cred to quit your job teaching middle school students because someone at Scat Records (an almost minor-major) has decided you rock hard enough to be a full-time rockstar. Say you've been drinking Miller Light in a basement for years with your buds, pretending to be a rockstar on the weekends. Say you've recorded hundreds of songs and FINALLY someone thinks you're worthy of performing out on a national level. Say that you're finally, after a decade or more, in a position to make some money doing so. Say you love curious and inventive shit like King Crimson, but you also want to out-roger-daltrey Roger Daltrey and you want to, when you perform live, really fucking rock? What do you do?
Well, first, you release an album with some of your best stuff (as is on Bee Thousand--see "I Am a Scientist" or "Tractor Rape Chain" or "Echos Myron" [sic] or "Gold Star for Robot Boy"). Also, though, you want some totally rock out songs during which you can chug a beer and kick your leg as high in the air as you can. That's why you write "Hot Freaks."
Not intellectually challenging musically, you can pound a Nattie during the slow points. But it has a kicking Mitch Mitchell guitar line and begs even the Grumpiest Gus (Gary, for example) to tap a toe slightly and begs a bit of rockstar showmanship. Throw in some delightfully obtuse lyrics and a great refrain to yell--HOT FREAKS!--and you're good to go. You can go back to being a genius later...for now you want to Iggy Pop your ass off by screaming, kicking, and spinning the mic on its cord, and spitting beer into the crowd. You can be smart and clever later.
On a more serious note, this is a song which is carried lyrically. While Gary may (somewhat rightfully) poo poo this song musically, in the context of an album or of a live set, it offers a brief reprieve and an opportunity to really enjoy the bizarre lyrical world of Bob Pollard. How can a "non-dairy creamer" be "laid out explicitly like a fruit cake?" It may not mean a goddamn thing, but it sounds okay all slurred together. It fits neatly between "The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory" and "Smothered in Hugs" and *SHOULD* be on this album, if one looks at the album as a whole. As for "Yours to Keep," well, that's another blog entry for another day...
B- (There's much better, but there's also much, much, much worse...even on this album)
Favorite Lyric: (Gary's right): "I walked into the Hall of Miraculous Recovery / And stood before King Everything"
P.S. If this is lacking in sense or syntax or spelling...I wrote it a bit buzzed and refused to proofread. Bob would forgive.
Firstly, allow me to disabuse our non-existent audience of a possible misconception: this blog actually has two authors! Not only is it bi-authored, it is bi-coastal. One dork, Gary, in Portland, OR, and on dork, me--Zak, in New York, NY, together bro-loving the shit out of the work of another dork, Bob, in Dayton, OH. We cover a lot of ground. Gary wrote the last entry that was railing against Bob Pollard for Hot Freaks. While his imagery about the crazy, sleeveless, domestic-lager-in-cans-swilling uncle is undeniably vivid, I feel it falls short of truly assessing "Hot Freaks."
I am more than willing to admit that "Hot Freaks" is not a home run, in spite of Pollard's status as the Sadaharu Oh of modern indie rock songwriters (wikipedia "Sadaharu Oh" if you're not as big a jerkoff baseball nerd as I am). This does not mean it is a failure. It also, of course, does not mean that Pollard hasn't absolutely and momentously failed in some efforts. (I'm building up for some total slamfests on Bob for writing "Hold on Hope" and the snoring in "Ex-Supermodel...wait for it.)
What Gary failed to look into is what it means to be Bob Pollard. Sure, in the most glowing view he is a genius of the Lennon/McCartney model, and at the worst a savant tunesmith, but he was also, at one point, an unheralded dude pushing middle-age with a day-job as a middle school teacher. Say you're 37 (I was totally wrong...Bob's 51 and going on 52 this year...sorry for earlier errors) in 1994, you've finally gotten enough cred to quit your job teaching middle school students because someone at Scat Records (an almost minor-major) has decided you rock hard enough to be a full-time rockstar. Say you've been drinking Miller Light in a basement for years with your buds, pretending to be a rockstar on the weekends. Say you've recorded hundreds of songs and FINALLY someone thinks you're worthy of performing out on a national level. Say that you're finally, after a decade or more, in a position to make some money doing so. Say you love curious and inventive shit like King Crimson, but you also want to out-roger-daltrey Roger Daltrey and you want to, when you perform live, really fucking rock? What do you do?
Well, first, you release an album with some of your best stuff (as is on Bee Thousand--see "I Am a Scientist" or "Tractor Rape Chain" or "Echos Myron" [sic] or "Gold Star for Robot Boy"). Also, though, you want some totally rock out songs during which you can chug a beer and kick your leg as high in the air as you can. That's why you write "Hot Freaks."
Not intellectually challenging musically, you can pound a Nattie during the slow points. But it has a kicking Mitch Mitchell guitar line and begs even the Grumpiest Gus (Gary, for example) to tap a toe slightly and begs a bit of rockstar showmanship. Throw in some delightfully obtuse lyrics and a great refrain to yell--HOT FREAKS!--and you're good to go. You can go back to being a genius later...for now you want to Iggy Pop your ass off by screaming, kicking, and spinning the mic on its cord, and spitting beer into the crowd. You can be smart and clever later.
On a more serious note, this is a song which is carried lyrically. While Gary may (somewhat rightfully) poo poo this song musically, in the context of an album or of a live set, it offers a brief reprieve and an opportunity to really enjoy the bizarre lyrical world of Bob Pollard. How can a "non-dairy creamer" be "laid out explicitly like a fruit cake?" It may not mean a goddamn thing, but it sounds okay all slurred together. It fits neatly between "The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory" and "Smothered in Hugs" and *SHOULD* be on this album, if one looks at the album as a whole. As for "Yours to Keep," well, that's another blog entry for another day...
B- (There's much better, but there's also much, much, much worse...even on this album)
Favorite Lyric: (Gary's right): "I walked into the Hall of Miraculous Recovery / And stood before King Everything"
P.S. If this is lacking in sense or syntax or spelling...I wrote it a bit buzzed and refused to proofread. Bob would forgive.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Entry Seven: Hot Freaks
From "Bee Thousand" 1994
You know, we show a lot of love to Guided by Voices and Bob Pollard here. We've done six entries and the lowest grade we've given something was a C+. And that was only in relation to a superior version of the song. We love the songcraft of Robert Pollard. It's evident in every way. Even the name of the blog is a nod to how the man can almost do no wrong. In the interest of being fair and balanced, let me present a song that I just about totally hate.
I believe Hot Freaks, from Bee Thousand, is a damn bad song. A lot of people don't seem to think so. On the live album "Jellyfish Reactor" he announces the song and the crowd goes nuts. I honestly don't get it. Here's what we call an extended metaphor: picture a car that drives in a straight line at thirty miles per hour. In this car is your Vietnam vet uncle, wearing a sleeveless shirt with a beer between his legs. He shouts at the girls he passes. He calls some guy leaving a convenience store a fag. He drives through town and arrives at your wedding reception, late, and only because there is an open bar. At the reception, you have a buddy playing acoustic guitar to entertain the guests. This uncle asks your friend to improvise some bluesy droney groove and proceeds to ramble shit off over it, screaming "hot freaks!" every once in a while. Other days, you love this uncle. He gets high with you on Thanksgiving, he gave you your first beer. This time though, shit doesn't fit.
Hot Freaks feels extremely musically lazy to me, which is something rare for the boys from Dayton. And there's an important distinction to be made between lazy and effortless. GBV, at it's best, sounds effortless but I know it isn't. Pop music, hooks, those things are difficult to do right. The math rock kids and the post rock kids will tell you it's easy but it's not. Hot Freaks doesn't sound effortless, it just sounds like no effort was put into it. It just goes on and on, amelodic, repetitive. There's no pop here. And that's the thing, Guided by Voices are masters of beer swilling anthemic rock music that sounds classic before it is even written. And one of their many secret weapons, one of the reasons why the band works is Bob Pollards ear for pop and melody. Pop sensibility is a cornerstone of why GBV works. It's the difference between Guided By Voices and the originals the Cream Cover band sneaks into it's set at the local VFW. I admit that I'm probably the most dedicated fan of pure pop that you'll meet. But putting my biases aside, I still think this song doesn't work. There's no hook, the yelping of "hot freaks" is embarrassing for me to listen to and it sounds like the longest song I've ever heard that's under 2 minutes. It sounds like the down side of the otherwise awesome prospect of having Bob Pollard be your kick ass drunken uncle.
And yet... and yet, it's not a complete loss. The difference between Robert Pollard and your drunken Vietnam Vet uncle is that Robert Pollard is one of the best lyricists in the history of rock and roll. Hell, I'll say that he's probably a better lyricist than the entire country of Vietnam(humor). Bobs lyrics aren't politically conscious or always filled with deep meaning, but he knows how to turn a phrase and fire the imagination without having a literal narrative. This song is not an exception to that.
But I still don't think it's worth listen to this yelping monotone mess.
D+
Favorite lyric: "I walked into the house of miraculous recovery And stood before king everything"
You know, we show a lot of love to Guided by Voices and Bob Pollard here. We've done six entries and the lowest grade we've given something was a C+. And that was only in relation to a superior version of the song. We love the songcraft of Robert Pollard. It's evident in every way. Even the name of the blog is a nod to how the man can almost do no wrong. In the interest of being fair and balanced, let me present a song that I just about totally hate.
I believe Hot Freaks, from Bee Thousand, is a damn bad song. A lot of people don't seem to think so. On the live album "Jellyfish Reactor" he announces the song and the crowd goes nuts. I honestly don't get it. Here's what we call an extended metaphor: picture a car that drives in a straight line at thirty miles per hour. In this car is your Vietnam vet uncle, wearing a sleeveless shirt with a beer between his legs. He shouts at the girls he passes. He calls some guy leaving a convenience store a fag. He drives through town and arrives at your wedding reception, late, and only because there is an open bar. At the reception, you have a buddy playing acoustic guitar to entertain the guests. This uncle asks your friend to improvise some bluesy droney groove and proceeds to ramble shit off over it, screaming "hot freaks!" every once in a while. Other days, you love this uncle. He gets high with you on Thanksgiving, he gave you your first beer. This time though, shit doesn't fit.
Hot Freaks feels extremely musically lazy to me, which is something rare for the boys from Dayton. And there's an important distinction to be made between lazy and effortless. GBV, at it's best, sounds effortless but I know it isn't. Pop music, hooks, those things are difficult to do right. The math rock kids and the post rock kids will tell you it's easy but it's not. Hot Freaks doesn't sound effortless, it just sounds like no effort was put into it. It just goes on and on, amelodic, repetitive. There's no pop here. And that's the thing, Guided by Voices are masters of beer swilling anthemic rock music that sounds classic before it is even written. And one of their many secret weapons, one of the reasons why the band works is Bob Pollards ear for pop and melody. Pop sensibility is a cornerstone of why GBV works. It's the difference between Guided By Voices and the originals the Cream Cover band sneaks into it's set at the local VFW. I admit that I'm probably the most dedicated fan of pure pop that you'll meet. But putting my biases aside, I still think this song doesn't work. There's no hook, the yelping of "hot freaks" is embarrassing for me to listen to and it sounds like the longest song I've ever heard that's under 2 minutes. It sounds like the down side of the otherwise awesome prospect of having Bob Pollard be your kick ass drunken uncle.
And yet... and yet, it's not a complete loss. The difference between Robert Pollard and your drunken Vietnam Vet uncle is that Robert Pollard is one of the best lyricists in the history of rock and roll. Hell, I'll say that he's probably a better lyricist than the entire country of Vietnam(humor). Bobs lyrics aren't politically conscious or always filled with deep meaning, but he knows how to turn a phrase and fire the imagination without having a literal narrative. This song is not an exception to that.
But I still don't think it's worth listen to this yelping monotone mess.
D+
Favorite lyric: "I walked into the house of miraculous recovery And stood before king everything"
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Entry Six: Unleashed! The Large-Hearted Boy
From "Propeller," 1992.
With the rise of Mp3s, there has arisen a legitimate concern that the album as a unified entity is on the outs. While I think that Chicken Little-ism is often foolish, it is undeniable each major mutation in how music is stored has caused a shift away from the album as the meaningful rock unit. Hell, that we focus on individual Pollard/GBV songs in this very blog is probably evidence that we (the bloggers of Apollardgist) have taken this shift to heart. Of course songs matter and of course the concept of song-as-independent-unit significantly predates the medium of album. To wit, I'm pretty sure Negro spirituals stood alone when sung in the field. The decline of the album as the unit-of-rock is undeniable, however, and there has been collateral damage as a result. The switch from LP to CD caused a noteworthy decline in the size, and therefore importance, of album art. The switch from CD to Mp3 has led to a decline in the importance of song-sequence because one can sort his Mp3s as he sees fit, erase the ones he doesn't want, or may never get them in the first place because he only downloaded the single.
Song-sequence, of course, is one of the things that makes albums great as unified works of art, and it is especially important with regard to LPs. While "Propeller" was released at the point when vinyl was dying and CDs were rising, it is important to note that this album was originally sequenced for vinyl. There is a definite Side A and a definite Side B. Obviously, one needs a hook to start Side A, but to start Side B you always need a real ass-kicker as well, and one that transfers from the end of Side A fairly neatly. This is precisely what "Unleashed! The Large-Hearted Boy" does. Following the muddy, metally sludge-fest of "Lethargy," one must follow with a real-rocker, and "Unleashed!" rocks.
At the same time, the Side B opener has cannot be a filler song...it's got to stand up enough to reel you back in, in case you went to get a beer before flipping the album. "Unleashed!" rocks, but it stands on its own more proudly than its Side A lead-in "Lethargy.'
"Unleasehed!," essentially, is the best song you could have ever hoped for from the punk-ish band at your high school's "Battle of the Bands." No polish, but plenty of balls. Bob's a little off-key, the bass-line is driving, the drums pound away in an unrelenting 2/4, and the song as a whole seems like the band fell into a groove and were too eager and energized to put in any variations for fear the whole thing might fall apart if they slowed down or changed things up. It's mostly a feed-backy, balls-out garage rock tune...and that's a helluva good way to start out Side B before moving into more clever tunes like "Exit Flagger" or "14 Cheereader Cold Front" or "On the Tundra."
B
Favorite Lyric: (Not that this is by any means a great line, but there just ain't much to work with in this song...and I'm hesitant to break with format) "It's up to you to stay put / The shoe is on the other foot..."
With the rise of Mp3s, there has arisen a legitimate concern that the album as a unified entity is on the outs. While I think that Chicken Little-ism is often foolish, it is undeniable each major mutation in how music is stored has caused a shift away from the album as the meaningful rock unit. Hell, that we focus on individual Pollard/GBV songs in this very blog is probably evidence that we (the bloggers of Apollardgist) have taken this shift to heart. Of course songs matter and of course the concept of song-as-independent-unit significantly predates the medium of album. To wit, I'm pretty sure Negro spirituals stood alone when sung in the field. The decline of the album as the unit-of-rock is undeniable, however, and there has been collateral damage as a result. The switch from LP to CD caused a noteworthy decline in the size, and therefore importance, of album art. The switch from CD to Mp3 has led to a decline in the importance of song-sequence because one can sort his Mp3s as he sees fit, erase the ones he doesn't want, or may never get them in the first place because he only downloaded the single.
Song-sequence, of course, is one of the things that makes albums great as unified works of art, and it is especially important with regard to LPs. While "Propeller" was released at the point when vinyl was dying and CDs were rising, it is important to note that this album was originally sequenced for vinyl. There is a definite Side A and a definite Side B. Obviously, one needs a hook to start Side A, but to start Side B you always need a real ass-kicker as well, and one that transfers from the end of Side A fairly neatly. This is precisely what "Unleashed! The Large-Hearted Boy" does. Following the muddy, metally sludge-fest of "Lethargy," one must follow with a real-rocker, and "Unleashed!" rocks.
At the same time, the Side B opener has cannot be a filler song...it's got to stand up enough to reel you back in, in case you went to get a beer before flipping the album. "Unleashed!" rocks, but it stands on its own more proudly than its Side A lead-in "Lethargy.'
"Unleasehed!," essentially, is the best song you could have ever hoped for from the punk-ish band at your high school's "Battle of the Bands." No polish, but plenty of balls. Bob's a little off-key, the bass-line is driving, the drums pound away in an unrelenting 2/4, and the song as a whole seems like the band fell into a groove and were too eager and energized to put in any variations for fear the whole thing might fall apart if they slowed down or changed things up. It's mostly a feed-backy, balls-out garage rock tune...and that's a helluva good way to start out Side B before moving into more clever tunes like "Exit Flagger" or "14 Cheereader Cold Front" or "On the Tundra."
B
Favorite Lyric: (Not that this is by any means a great line, but there just ain't much to work with in this song...and I'm hesitant to break with format) "It's up to you to stay put / The shoe is on the other foot..."
Monday, April 6, 2009
Game of Pricks (Original compared to 7" version)
Original: Alien Lanes
Remake: Tigerbomb EP, 1995
Since the last entry mentioned Vampire on Titus, an album where Polards lo-fi mode did him few favors, I wanted to highlight a song where the lo-fi treatment unequivically works.
In 1995, Bob Pollard recorded the Tigerbomb EP, which includes more produced versions of songs from THE BEST GUIDED BY VOICES ALBUM Alien Lanes. The first is "My Valuable Hunting Knife," which is a great song to be sure, though the re-recording does it no favors. The second, and more offensive, is this re-recording of perhaps the best song on Alien Lanes (and I'm more than willing to admit that's debatable) Game of Pricks. Game of Pricks is a masterpiece, catchier than anything has a right to be, with emotive lyrics. The chorus, the latter half full of repeated vocal triplets (Nev/er/asked for/the/truth/ but/you/owe/ that to me/) falls down a few steps before triumphantly climbing back up, an appealing reversal of a classic melodic arc, like a reverse "Yesterday". The verses are dynamic, there's a lot of space between these chords and the song breathes very well as a result. Lyrically, Robert Pollard has a way of making things that should sound cliche sound totally fresh. Lines like, "You can never be strong but you can only be free" and "I never asked for the truth by you owe that to me" become almost like proverbs in the hands of Pollard. There is no denying the quality of the song. However...
However, this version doesn't do the song much justice. What's different? Well, there's a totally new intro that sounds a lot like "I am a Tree" from Mag Earwhig! Theres some totally unnecessary vocal harmonies and polish. The drums keep double time, giving the song a much more driving rock feel. Mostly though, the entire affair is cleaned up. This, frankly, kind of sucks. There is a lot of character in the lo-fi tones of classic GBV. It's softer, it's less precise, more relaxed. This version sounds like he recorded it with Cobra Verde, his latter day back up band. I'm not one of those guys who only likes a bands early albums or feels a band has some how sold out by choosing to clean up their sound. They're all just artistic choices. I feel that Pollards song writing shines through no matter what. Case in point, I love songs from much maligned albums such as Universal Truths and Cycles and Do the Collapse. In this case, however, the song already existed and was already perfect. What was the motivation? The only thing I can think of is a bid for radio play and that is a little dissapointing. I won't begrudge anyone the desire to make some money from their art, or give that art wider exposure, but if you listen to both versions back to back, I think it's clear that the original is supperior.
C+ (For the remake)
A+ (For the original)
Favorite line: Ill climb up on the house/ Weep to water the trees/And when you come calling me down/ Ill put on my disease
Remake: Tigerbomb EP, 1995
Since the last entry mentioned Vampire on Titus, an album where Polards lo-fi mode did him few favors, I wanted to highlight a song where the lo-fi treatment unequivically works.
In 1995, Bob Pollard recorded the Tigerbomb EP, which includes more produced versions of songs from THE BEST GUIDED BY VOICES ALBUM Alien Lanes. The first is "My Valuable Hunting Knife," which is a great song to be sure, though the re-recording does it no favors. The second, and more offensive, is this re-recording of perhaps the best song on Alien Lanes (and I'm more than willing to admit that's debatable) Game of Pricks. Game of Pricks is a masterpiece, catchier than anything has a right to be, with emotive lyrics. The chorus, the latter half full of repeated vocal triplets (Nev/er/asked for/the/truth/ but/you/owe/ that to me/) falls down a few steps before triumphantly climbing back up, an appealing reversal of a classic melodic arc, like a reverse "Yesterday". The verses are dynamic, there's a lot of space between these chords and the song breathes very well as a result. Lyrically, Robert Pollard has a way of making things that should sound cliche sound totally fresh. Lines like, "You can never be strong but you can only be free" and "I never asked for the truth by you owe that to me" become almost like proverbs in the hands of Pollard. There is no denying the quality of the song. However...
However, this version doesn't do the song much justice. What's different? Well, there's a totally new intro that sounds a lot like "I am a Tree" from Mag Earwhig! Theres some totally unnecessary vocal harmonies and polish. The drums keep double time, giving the song a much more driving rock feel. Mostly though, the entire affair is cleaned up. This, frankly, kind of sucks. There is a lot of character in the lo-fi tones of classic GBV. It's softer, it's less precise, more relaxed. This version sounds like he recorded it with Cobra Verde, his latter day back up band. I'm not one of those guys who only likes a bands early albums or feels a band has some how sold out by choosing to clean up their sound. They're all just artistic choices. I feel that Pollards song writing shines through no matter what. Case in point, I love songs from much maligned albums such as Universal Truths and Cycles and Do the Collapse. In this case, however, the song already existed and was already perfect. What was the motivation? The only thing I can think of is a bid for radio play and that is a little dissapointing. I won't begrudge anyone the desire to make some money from their art, or give that art wider exposure, but if you listen to both versions back to back, I think it's clear that the original is supperior.
C+ (For the remake)
A+ (For the original)
Favorite line: Ill climb up on the house/ Weep to water the trees/And when you come calling me down/ Ill put on my disease
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Entry Four: Jar of Cardinals
From "Vampire on Titus," 1993
To me, "Vampire on Titus" is, as an album, a hit-or-miss proposition. Some of the songs are simply not fleshed out or so experimental and hasty in their construction as to be almost non-melodic. Other songs (see "Wished I Was a Giant") are great tunes but suffer from mixing and production problems so severe that they greatly subtract from a song's overall effectiveness. Lo-fi is cool; no-fi isn't.
"Jar of Cardinals," however, stands out on this inconsistent opus. Its jaunty little guitar line all but begs the listener to sway his head from side-to-side a la Hamburg-era Beatles. It is an honest and earnest pop song, unashamed to be almost cute. Never was Bob's ersatz English accent more appropriately deployed than in this chipper little ditty. The dual tracked Bob-on-Bob haromny at song's end pretty well cements this tune as a playful homage to the pop tunes of the early to mid-60s.
Lyrically, as with most Pollard, it's not a literal song. That being said, there is a strongly pastoral feel to the words. It may, in part, be a love song, but we are not berated with specific and trite imagery. In fact, the lyrics in "Jar of Cardinals" illustrate one of Pollard's strongest assets as a lyricist: an ability to be unpredictably uncliched. While there is an upbeat, major-key chirpiness to this tune, Bob as always, avoids cheesiness and values lyrical unpredictability without veering too far in the other direction of cheap "Purple Monkey Dishwasher" non-sequitir. By swapping "seedling" for the well-worn "baby" in the line, "Hush now seedling, don't you cry" Bob manages to redirect our conditioned expectations. Similarly, the alternation of the lines "Quite soon for you / Quite sinful you" at the songs end is effectively playful without being too clever by half.
B
Favorite lyric: "Hush now seedling, don't you cry / Maybe I'll be coming home quite soon for you / Quite sinful you..."
To me, "Vampire on Titus" is, as an album, a hit-or-miss proposition. Some of the songs are simply not fleshed out or so experimental and hasty in their construction as to be almost non-melodic. Other songs (see "Wished I Was a Giant") are great tunes but suffer from mixing and production problems so severe that they greatly subtract from a song's overall effectiveness. Lo-fi is cool; no-fi isn't.
"Jar of Cardinals," however, stands out on this inconsistent opus. Its jaunty little guitar line all but begs the listener to sway his head from side-to-side a la Hamburg-era Beatles. It is an honest and earnest pop song, unashamed to be almost cute. Never was Bob's ersatz English accent more appropriately deployed than in this chipper little ditty. The dual tracked Bob-on-Bob haromny at song's end pretty well cements this tune as a playful homage to the pop tunes of the early to mid-60s.
Lyrically, as with most Pollard, it's not a literal song. That being said, there is a strongly pastoral feel to the words. It may, in part, be a love song, but we are not berated with specific and trite imagery. In fact, the lyrics in "Jar of Cardinals" illustrate one of Pollard's strongest assets as a lyricist: an ability to be unpredictably uncliched. While there is an upbeat, major-key chirpiness to this tune, Bob as always, avoids cheesiness and values lyrical unpredictability without veering too far in the other direction of cheap "Purple Monkey Dishwasher" non-sequitir. By swapping "seedling" for the well-worn "baby" in the line, "Hush now seedling, don't you cry" Bob manages to redirect our conditioned expectations. Similarly, the alternation of the lines "Quite soon for you / Quite sinful you" at the songs end is effectively playful without being too clever by half.
B
Favorite lyric: "Hush now seedling, don't you cry / Maybe I'll be coming home quite soon for you / Quite sinful you..."
Friday, April 3, 2009
Entry Three: How Loft Am I?
From "Same Place The Fly Got Smashed," 1990
According to Wikipedia, Pollard has said that this album contains the lyrics he's most proud of. I haven't spent a lot of time with Same Place the Fly Got Smashed, but if I had to judge solely from this track, I'd find that hard to believe. Well, to rephrase, I certainly believe that he is most proud of these lyrics, as who the hell knows what goes through that guys head most of the time? But I can't really agree. Lyrically, this song is as simple and full of pop platitudes as early GBV gets. It's a different kind of pop than the saccherine Things That I Will Keep style stuff that comes later, but it's still operating on a different level than he usually does. This song sounds like something from early seventies AM radio or like a late sixties byrds b-side to me.
That said, the song is catchy as hell. The internal rhyme of "Maybe Baby" is repeated an absurd amount of times for a sixty seven second song but it becomes hypnotic and comforting quickly. Stripped down to just Pollards voice and an accoustic guitar or two really lets the melody speak for itself and that melody is pretty strong. Also of note is that this is the last song on what's said to be a concept album about alcoholism. I can't say how the lyrics would fit into this theme but musically, texturally, it's really nice as a closer, with it's marching almost heroic strum pattern and relaxed vocals
B
Favorite Lyric: Stay with the clouds when they scatter And maybe baby Maybe baby Maybe baby Maybe baby You will see.
According to Wikipedia, Pollard has said that this album contains the lyrics he's most proud of. I haven't spent a lot of time with Same Place the Fly Got Smashed, but if I had to judge solely from this track, I'd find that hard to believe. Well, to rephrase, I certainly believe that he is most proud of these lyrics, as who the hell knows what goes through that guys head most of the time? But I can't really agree. Lyrically, this song is as simple and full of pop platitudes as early GBV gets. It's a different kind of pop than the saccherine Things That I Will Keep style stuff that comes later, but it's still operating on a different level than he usually does. This song sounds like something from early seventies AM radio or like a late sixties byrds b-side to me.
That said, the song is catchy as hell. The internal rhyme of "Maybe Baby" is repeated an absurd amount of times for a sixty seven second song but it becomes hypnotic and comforting quickly. Stripped down to just Pollards voice and an accoustic guitar or two really lets the melody speak for itself and that melody is pretty strong. Also of note is that this is the last song on what's said to be a concept album about alcoholism. I can't say how the lyrics would fit into this theme but musically, texturally, it's really nice as a closer, with it's marching almost heroic strum pattern and relaxed vocals
B
Favorite Lyric: Stay with the clouds when they scatter And maybe baby Maybe baby Maybe baby Maybe baby You will see.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Entry Two: Official Iron Man Rally Song
From "Under the Bushes Under the Stars" LP, 1996
Classic, quintessential Pollard anthem. It's hard for me not to look at this song in the context of GBV history. After something in the realm of a decade of Guided By Voices being little more than a hobby, Bob and the boys found themselves the level of famous that, while not garnering massive wealth, at least allows musicians to quit their day jobs. In a few years, Guided By Voices had gone from an inside joke to a Dayton oddity to the sort of band that hipster's used to measure their dicks against one anothers' to the sort of band that was filling venues, selling albums, and even getting the occasional plug from Kurt Loder on MTV News. All of a sudden Matador's gonna pay for studio time and, shit, they even snag Steve Albini to produce. If you're Bob and you've "made it," what do you do next?
Fuck Disneyland, man. You pound a couple of Nattie Lights and write your own goddamn "We Are the Champions." While the descriptors "anthemic" and "fist pump worthy" were used in the last entry, they are here, too, apropos. This is, indeed, a rally song.
It's a call to arms, a rock n' roll union hymn, a uniting anthem of some absurd Midwest separatist political movement whose platform planks are threefold: 1) Rock the fuck out. 2) Drink beer. 3) Make sure that you have your buddies along while you accomplish planks 1 and 2. Bob Pollard: the Joe Hill of the Drinking Class.
Less indulgently, this song is concretely a "radio single." Weighing in at a lean-for-radio-but-downright-portly-compared-to-some-Pollard-songs two minutes and forty eight seconds, and with a hook, it is packaged to sell. That being said, I don't think it's a compromise, but rather a song idea that actually comes to fruition, which can't always be said for some Pollard efforts.
A
Favorite Lyric: "Confirmations through the wire / Spitting gas into the fire / Am I also worthy of a drink?"
ALSO: Apollardgist would be remiss if we failed to belatedly acknowledged Bob's 50th Birthday. Happy birthday, Bob! 50 years of Bob is worth more than a million years of Roger Daltrey. You're way the fuck better than The Who, Bob!
Classic, quintessential Pollard anthem. It's hard for me not to look at this song in the context of GBV history. After something in the realm of a decade of Guided By Voices being little more than a hobby, Bob and the boys found themselves the level of famous that, while not garnering massive wealth, at least allows musicians to quit their day jobs. In a few years, Guided By Voices had gone from an inside joke to a Dayton oddity to the sort of band that hipster's used to measure their dicks against one anothers' to the sort of band that was filling venues, selling albums, and even getting the occasional plug from Kurt Loder on MTV News. All of a sudden Matador's gonna pay for studio time and, shit, they even snag Steve Albini to produce. If you're Bob and you've "made it," what do you do next?
Fuck Disneyland, man. You pound a couple of Nattie Lights and write your own goddamn "We Are the Champions." While the descriptors "anthemic" and "fist pump worthy" were used in the last entry, they are here, too, apropos. This is, indeed, a rally song.
It's a call to arms, a rock n' roll union hymn, a uniting anthem of some absurd Midwest separatist political movement whose platform planks are threefold: 1) Rock the fuck out. 2) Drink beer. 3) Make sure that you have your buddies along while you accomplish planks 1 and 2. Bob Pollard: the Joe Hill of the Drinking Class.
Less indulgently, this song is concretely a "radio single." Weighing in at a lean-for-radio-but-downright-portly-compared-to-some-Pollard-songs two minutes and forty eight seconds, and with a hook, it is packaged to sell. That being said, I don't think it's a compromise, but rather a song idea that actually comes to fruition, which can't always be said for some Pollard efforts.
A
Favorite Lyric: "Confirmations through the wire / Spitting gas into the fire / Am I also worthy of a drink?"
ALSO: Apollardgist would be remiss if we failed to belatedly acknowledged Bob's 50th Birthday. Happy birthday, Bob! 50 years of Bob is worth more than a million years of Roger Daltrey. You're way the fuck better than The Who, Bob!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Entry One: Stronger Lizards
From "The Pipe Dreams of Instant Prince Whippet EP," a companion EP to the Universal Truths and Cycles album, 2002.
If there is one thing Robert Pollard knows, it's the value of brevity. He seems to follow the line of thought that one should never do something sixteen times if they can do it eight times and shouldn't do it eight times if they can do it four. On one hand, I'm in favor of this approach because it means I can trust that after a song is over, I'm wanting more. I can't say that about very many musicians, even those whose work I enjoy and admire. In this case, it's probably to the songs detriment just in that the song is so good and it's a shame to hear it end. It's clearly the beginning of a classic Pollard anthem and just as it threatens to break into a fist pump worthy chorus, the song ends after just 55 seconds. The effect is disorienting in a good way but it leaves one wondering what might have been.
Lyric and instrumentation wise, we're in familiar territory, lots of G chords and C chords and D chords, abstract lyrics that hint at menace and failure in men, without being overt. This familiarity does nothing to hinder my enjoyment, however. I don't go to Robert Pollard for innovation and find that a lot of the time, when he tries for it, he falls short.
B+
Favorite Lyric: Her dissolve deserves/ to think themselves awake/ dressed in religion in peril.
If there is one thing Robert Pollard knows, it's the value of brevity. He seems to follow the line of thought that one should never do something sixteen times if they can do it eight times and shouldn't do it eight times if they can do it four. On one hand, I'm in favor of this approach because it means I can trust that after a song is over, I'm wanting more. I can't say that about very many musicians, even those whose work I enjoy and admire. In this case, it's probably to the songs detriment just in that the song is so good and it's a shame to hear it end. It's clearly the beginning of a classic Pollard anthem and just as it threatens to break into a fist pump worthy chorus, the song ends after just 55 seconds. The effect is disorienting in a good way but it leaves one wondering what might have been.
Lyric and instrumentation wise, we're in familiar territory, lots of G chords and C chords and D chords, abstract lyrics that hint at menace and failure in men, without being overt. This familiarity does nothing to hinder my enjoyment, however. I don't go to Robert Pollard for innovation and find that a lot of the time, when he tries for it, he falls short.
B+
Favorite Lyric: Her dissolve deserves/ to think themselves awake/ dressed in religion in peril.
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