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 |
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. |
Musical Connections:
Airport 5
The Breeders
Chavez
Fig. 4
Robert Pollard
Tobin Sprout
Swearing at Motorists
|
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