Guided By Voices are a fairly well-kept secret. Most of their tracks hover around the half million listens on Spotify, which places them very much in the mid-table of bands.
However if you’ve never come across their two classic albums, Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes …. well, I suppose I can’t guarantee you’ll like them. They are indeed an acquired taste. Their singer and guiding light, Bob Pollard, likes staying put in the anonymity of Dayton, Ohio. I was somewhat reminded of him and the town when I forced myself to read Hillbilly Elegy recently, the J D Vance memoir. It’s got its problems, God knows, but if you’re not an expert on the so-called Rust Belt of America – the area of decaying industry around the Great Lakes – it’s quite good on explaining how Ohio became something of an aspiration for those leaving Kentucky and other states further south. It’s noted for defence, aerospace and healthcare businesses these days. So maybe Dayton approximates to Milton Keynes?
Anyway we know Bob feels at home in this mid sized town. He was originally a teacher. Then produced six aggressively lo-fi albums in the late 80s and early 90s in his buddy’s basement on a 4-track recorder with his brother and other friends, the last of which, Bee Thousand (featured here) became an unexpected cult classic in 1994. It chimed with the US lo-fi movement (Pavement, Sebadoh, Archers of Loaf and so on) but was distinct from those further east, or indeed west coast in the case of Pavement. Abstract titles, abstract lyrics, fuzzed-up music, collage artwork. Alien Lanes, for me their apotheosis, followed in 1995.
Major label resources opened up when they signed for Matador, but, let me speak plainly, the magic was not quite present thereafter. Sure, there are magnificent tracks and there’s a terrific GBV compilation which serves as a shortcut if purism is not for you. One of the paradoxes of GBV is that though their heartland is indie music, Bob Pollard loves the idea of being The Who or The Beatles more than anyone else. Indeed his songs, in other hands, can be arena fillers – Glad Girls, covered by Glen Campbell of all people, being the prime example.
But there was always something inherent in the DNA of his songwriting that prevented the band going full-on U2 or Strokes. His drinking and chaotic live performances are not major venue appropriate. But, more importantly I think, the soul of GBV is marginal concerns. The songs on this episode are often over before they’ve got going, his butterfly mind moving ever onwards to another and another and another new song.
We mustn’t forget his bandmates either, Torbin Sprout in particular, whose contribution was significant.
Well, it looks as if they’ve stopped touring now though there may be more recordings. I will be honest and say, I stopped listening to new GBV some time ago – there are dozens of albums, and I imagine this is how it feels to be a casual Fall listener. Bob’s nearly 70 and puts a lot into the performances. His hearing can’t be tip-top. He deserves to potter round Dayton for a bit and hang out with Kim Deal and his mates.
But for two years in the mid-90s they did capture lightning in a bottle.
