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Guided
by Voices
[guided
by voices website]
Alien Lanes
There they go. They've taken a baby step
towards sounding like professionals. Still sounding homemade,
but coming to the realization that some folks want to actually
be able to hear the music they purchase, GBV have attempted
to clean up the quality of their recording just a little bit.
There's still plenty of hiss and canned sound, but some of
the harmonies and guitar can actually be heard and enjoyed
amongst the background noise. This album didn't leave my five-disc
player rotation for at least six months, as my windowless,
brick-lined Third Ave. apartment in Manhattan rang with the
sounds of joyous Brit (by way of Ohio) guitar pop. This, due
to timing and just flat out fun, is my favorite GBV album.
Sure, it's a little crazy at 27 tracks (even though all but
six of them are under two minutes), but it's hard to listen
to this thing and not just absolutely fall in love with music.
I dare you. |
Bee Thousand
Ah, here's the album that Propeller
and Vampire on Titus promised to deliver! Granted,
the horrible sound quality still drives me mad at times, but
what the hell do I expect? I don't want glossy or anything,
but if they could keep the tracking from going from one ear
to the other in what sound more like a mic outage than an
intentional mistake, I would be less irritable about it. The
band swings wildly between pop rock barrages and gently strummed
acoustic folksy songs (some of which sound a bit like latter-day
Beck), which certainly keeps the album from sounding samey-samey.
There are just so many good unfinished and crappily recorded
hits on this thing that you just wish would bust forth with
some real umph. Like "Gold Star for Robot Boy,"
for instance, which is a great little pop song just sits behind
this wall of mute, where it could really bust out and rock
hard if only someone wanted it to. It's a little frustrating,
honestly, in some instances. It's funny, though, as on later
albums when they dared to actually spend a couple dollars
on recording equipment that fans all but rioted. |
Do the Collapse
I must admit that I heard "Teenage
FBI" on the radio about a week before this album came
out and was waiting like a slobbering dog for it. Granted,
I was like the only GBV fan who thought it was a good song.
I'm sure most heard the Ric Ocasek Weezer-like
keyboard flourishes in the background and almost tossed their
lunches. So, of course, they put this track first on the album--an
album that was supposed to be their major label debut, but
turned into another one of those rejected records thrown to
the dustbin of history. It's obvious after the second song
on the record why. I'm not even sure what's happening here.
It became really obvious on this album in particular that
Pollard had been getting
by on charm for a little while. If one of his songs was boring
or kinda sucked, the homemade sound and tape blips and bloops
covered the weak writing with charm and homemade fun. Now,
in bright shining Technicolor, the warts are showing. The
songs just aren't that interesting in the cold pale light
of day. Sorry, man, it just ain't you. |
Earthquake Glue
This is oddly a bit of a return to form
of sorts. Again, Pollard dials it back (to the future), and
comes away with an album that sounds more complete and album-like
than anything he's practically ever done. There are less individual
hits on this one than on some others, but rather a set of
comprehensive tunes that comprise an actual album. I don't
really pay that much attention to lyrics, but at least a couple
of these sound like they're not complete nonsense. A nice,
mature playlist of songs for an aging rocker who doesn't need
one--at least for now. |
Half Smiles of the Decomposed
I like it! It's been a while since I've
actually tapped my toe and/or bobbed the old head to a GBV
song. And here you go. Sure, it's not Alien Lanes
or anything, but it'snot only a decent swipe at getting back
to what made that old GBV stuff good, but a nice place to
bow out. This, the last GBV album (at least until Pollard
changes his mind) is just another wink at why it's cool to
be a rock 'n' roller. |
Isolation Drills
That's a little more like it. After the
debacle that was Do the Collapse, Isolation Drills
gets back to the big rock sound. See, this was what I was
talking about with some of those older albums. Why couldn't
they have used this recording technique for some of those
classic songs and really blown the doors of the place? It's
not the slick Ocasek stuff, but it certainly adds some punch
to the songs without making them sound overproduced and un
GBV-like. This doesn't have the most memorable songs (in fact,
I only really remember one, "Chasing Heather Crazy")
but it's a solid, but rather downcast, record nonetheless.
It's their, uh, Exile on Main Street. Whatever. |
Mag Earwhig!
For some reason the first song on this
album reminds me of that terrible King Missile song, "Detachable
Penis." I'm probably the only person who thinks that,
and luckily that nonsense doesn't continue. One of the best
songs on the album (and no doubt one of the best GBV songs
ever) is "I am a Tree," which was written by Pollards
new bandmate Doug Gillard. In fact, when I saw one of their
shows, Pollard said, "Here's one I wish a wrote"
right before breaking into the song (complete with flying
kicks and beer swigging). Almost equally as good is "Bulldog
Skin," which Pollard did write. It's a rollicking rock
song that feels like he should be playing a bar in Texas complete
with Bud bottles and a pair of cowboy boots or two. It's GBV's
answer to "Keep Your Hands to Yourself." There's
some good stuff on this album, but nothing quite matches their
early output. It's not that it's worse or anything, just different. |
Propeller
Sigh. This is going to be a pretty crazy
undertaking, going through GBV's entire discography (or at
least the one's I own). This debut starts it off with a blast
of Brit-tinged fuzzy guitar rock. 1992, the height of grunge,
saw a lot of bands pouring on the weepy testosterone (if such
a thing exists), but here was a band with anthematic aspirations.
They write cheery pop songs and throwback tunes that recall
everything you'd find in any cool parent's LP collection.
Granted, this is an arena rock band on a shoestring, recording
on old equipment in a garage. I've forgotten over the years
how really good this record is. What a way to start it off! |
Sunfish Holy Breakfast
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Under the Bushes Under the Stars
Whoa there. Who is this? Apparently this
is Kim Deal of the Pixies' idea
of what GBV should sound like (as she produced the album).
I may actually go back on my word and ask for the fuzz back.
This sound is too big for these guys. The thumping bass drum
threatens to drown out everything and overwhelm the songwriting
somehow. It calms down a little bit after the first couple
of songs, but it's funny to hear GBV in full stereo. I guess
it wouldn't be such a shock if this was any other band, but
that being their shtick, it's funny to hear anything else.
There are a bunch of good songs on this album, but the production
and playing makes them sound more lumbering, rather than the
nimble pop snippets that they were on previous efforts. I
think part of it was Pollard
tinkering with his songwriting, trying to flesh out concepts
and song structure. It kind of works and fails at the same
time. |
Universal Truths and Cycles
GBV has subtly moved back into a lo-fi
groove. Granted, it's not all tape hiss and broken songs,
but even this album's best song, "Cheyenne," has
an echo effect on it that smacks of understatement. So I guess
lo-fi isn't the thing, but it's a subtle move to situate themselves
back in the little band making big sounds category of which
they were once kings. GBV is like the kids' Who, and Pollard
is its Townsend (or is it Daltrey?) He's just doing his thing
here, and trying to entertain. |
Vampire on Titus
They really dial up the lo-fi on this one.
Some of the songs sound as if they were recorded in Robert
Pollard's shower, and are mere snippets of songs. Reminiscent
of earlier Sebadoh or its side-project
sister Sentridoh, a lot of these
songs feel like rough edits of ideas of songs and not really
songs themselves. I tend to like Propeller a little
more than this one, just because the fidelity on this is so
low I have trouble hearing any melody in anything. I know
it's intentional, but sometimes too much fuzz and hiss is
just too much. There are certainly some cool songs on this
album, and even more kernels of pieces of tunes that could
have been something if Pollard didn't get bored half way through
and move on to the next ten songs he was writing. |
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