Guided By Voices – Styles We Paid For

 

Guided By Voices – Styles We Paid For

By

Jesse E. Mullen

You’ve released over 100 albums. You’ve released six albums over the past two years. You’ve also released two double albums since you reunited with your current lineup in late 2016. But your group is more than just statistics. What happens next?

This was the story of Guided By Voices in December of 2020. The band led by the ultra-prolific Robert Pollard were on a hot streak which dated back to their second reunion in 2016. They had already recorded two albums to be released in 2020 by the start of March. But in a year that was anything but normal, some changes had to be made for their third album of the year.

Originally planning to record an all-analog album titled Before Computers live in the studio, the band would ironically record their most digital album yet. Using Pro Tools, file sharing, and five different studios in five different states, each member recorded his parts separately.

Producer Travis Harrison then assembled the recordings at his Serious Business Studios in Brooklyn, NY. Harrison – who also tours with the band as official soundman – has become a sort of “fifth Beatle” to Guided By Voices, producing every album from 2017’s August By Cake to the present.

All of the experience undoubtedly helped Harrison when assembling and mixing tracks recorded from thousands of miles apart. Harrison used the opportunity to experiment in Pro Tools, adding extra production touches not heard on a Guided By Voices record since the more colorful tracks on the early 2019 double album Zeppelin Over China. (an eternity in GBV time.) But fans still had to wonder – how coherent can an album recorded from such a distance really sound?

The album opens with the slow burning “Megaphone Riley.” A chugging rhythm guitar and Pollard’s vocals introduce the track in modest fashion. Gradually, drums and bass come in anthemically, in a way which resembles “Redmen and Their Wives” from 1996’s Under The Bushes Under The Stars. It also uses part of the melody from 2017’s “Whole Tomatoes.”

Lyrically, it’s a rare political commentary from Pollard. With lines such as “Your facts approved, click on/Check our jumbo virus,” Pollard seems to be alluding to misinformation online regarding COVID-19. And the final verse with lines about “building your walls very proudly” seem to refer to the former president Donald Trump.

Pollard uses the lyrics of “They Don’t Play The Drums Anymore” to lament the lack of live drums on modern pop songs. He uses cryptic language, referring to electronic percussion as “electric lily pads on cool blue amazon” while also namechecking famous drummers and pieces of a drum set.

Musically, it features some of the most diverse percussion on a GBV song to date. The guitars and basses drop out before the first verse, giving way to a variety of shakers, congas, and bongos. It all ends with Pollard complaining that today’s youth “sit beating their puds” instead of beating the drums.

Guided By Voices have been in the unique position of having a laundry list of talented drummers through the years – including The Breeders’ Jim “Jimmy Mac” MacPherson. But if MacPherson is the gold standard, current drummer Kevin March is easily silver medalist. March’s fills aren’t quite as manic as MacPherson, and he lacks MacPherson’s flow, but he has a rock-solid sense of rhythm and tempo.

On “Electronic Windows To Nowhere,” Pollard writes about artificial intelligence, seemingly dismissing it with the titular line. Pollard has always been dismissive of modern technology – see 2003’s “Useless Inventions” – but like on “They Don’t Play The Drums Anymore,” his target is much more specific.

Ironically – as pointed out by GBV podcaster Jeff Gomez – Pollard and the band would not have been able to make the album without modern technology. Without cloud-based storage, Pro Tools, or computers, the album would’ve had to have been shelved until it was safe to record face-to-face. And Pollard is famous for never slowing down.

“Slaughterhouse” resembles the dark dirges of Please Be Honest, but with the better musicianship of the current lineup. Lyrically, the track is Pollard’s “Meat Is Murder,” describing a slaughterhouse in cryptic terms. Lines like “they taught the babies to smoke” could have a double meaning – smoked meat, slaughterhouse, get it?

Industrial noises and clanging sounds recall earlier tracks such as “The Caterpillar Workforce” and “The Grasshopper Eaters.” Gillard’s three note guitar solo recalls the sound of Joy Division. It is an almost dreadfully hopeless tune, one which – while enjoyable in certain moods – will have the listener glad when it’s over.

The next track brings some much-needed optimism. “Endless Seafood” begins with a bouncy, descending chord progression which never quite crosses the line into cheesiness. Pollard uses the concept of “endless seafood” as a metaphor for “plenty of fish in the sea” with regards to love.

It’s the kind of cheerful pessimism that R.E.M. perfected on 1987’s “The One I Love.” Pollard sings that “you can be hungry, but empty inside.” An almost perfect anti-love song, it ends with swooping strings, and a skillful decrease in tempo.

On the other end of the spectrum is “Stops.” A beautiful love song about how feelings evolve as we age, Pollard uses a succession of bus stops as a metaphor. Doug Gillard turns in an absolutely gorgeous guitar part, recalling Neil Young during his On The Beach era.

Speaking of excellent Gillard guitar, “Mr. Child” features one of the albums best riffs. The track opens with a Gillard riff which can only be described as having the gusto and confidence of Keith Richards. Pollard describes a Peter Pan-esque character who attempts to stay young forever. But as we all know, this isn’t possible.

The track ends with a three-part prog suite. It slows to crawl with pounding drums and melodic bass, before building back up into an explosive finale. A thrilling would be single, it is the perfect bridge to the latter half of the album.

As the album gets closer to the end, Pollard becomes more obsessed with the passage of time. “Time Without Looking” is an absolutely gorgeous ballad. Gillard arpeggiates every note on his Les Paul in crystal clarity, before a midtempo acoustic guitar joins in with the rest of the band.

Pollard sings that he knows “the time without looking” before cryptically asking “where do they go? After the goldrush? After the screentest?” An obvious nod to Neil Young and a possible nod to the movies of his youth, Pollard seems to be looking back through the decades of his life.

It’s a haunting commentary on aging, which is put into sharp relief by album closer “When Growing Was Simple.” Bob treats this tune as a memoir of sorts, talking about his school days, his discovery of his athletic abilities, and his maturation as an artist.

A cold, almost industrial tune, it is less accessible than “Time Without Looking.” Still, Bob’s haunting vocal and lyrics when combined with Mark Shue’s Codeine-like bassline send chills down the spine of the listener. After a full album of twists and turns, Pollard gives the listener a chance to meditate on what they’ve heard.

While many bands floundered in 2020 or had to rely on Bandcamp handouts to stay afloat, Guided By Voices proved there was a third option – making three kickass albums and capping the year off with the strongest one. Styles We Paid For may have been recorded under different means than originally intended, but the end result was one of the group’s best outings.

GBV Inc./2020

 

 

 

Mike Johnson – What Would You Do

 

Mike Johnson – What Would You Do

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve toured and recorded with Dinosaur Jr. You’ve made records with Mark Lanegan and developed a knack for writing and arranging. Heck, J. Mascis even lets you play lead guitar on several songs. But what happens when you want to strike out on your own?

That was the big question surrounding Mike Johnson in the mid-1990s. After fronting a grungy Pacific Northwest punk band called Snakepit in the latter half of the 80s, he was asked by J. Mascis to replace Lou Barlow on bass in Dinosaur Jr. – no easy task, considering Barlow’s heavy/melodic, inimitable style.

However, Johnson quickly developed his own style. Primarily a guitarist before joining Dinosaur, Johnson began playing figures on the bass which resembled lead guitar parts, albeit in a much lower frequency. Better still, the notoriously controlling Mascis let Johnson play a handful of guitar solos on the 1990s Dinosaur Jr. albums.

Johnson’s skills as a musician led to him being tapped by Mark Lanegan to help the singer kickstart a solo career. The Screaming Trees frontman was looking for a stylistic change from the art damaged grunge of his former group and believed Johnson to be the man to do it.

Together, the two artists developed a style which combined the crooning blues of Leadbelly with the poetry of Leonard Cohen and the glacial pace of the burgeoning “slowcore” sound. The albums they made together led to even more acclaim for Johnson, but he still had one creative itch left to be scratched. His own solo career.

Johnson’s next move took him even furth down the path of Leonard Cohen and slowcore. His first three solo albums gained a warm reception and a cult following in the indie rock world, but none of the attention the Lanegan albums received – or even like-minded contemporaries such as Red House Painters, Low, and American Music Club.

On his fourth album, What Would You Do, Johnson sought to tip the scales in his favor. Opener “Arise” has a warm, sultry sound reminiscent of Luna at their most alt. country. In the chorus, the song reaches its climax. Trumpets flutter and Johnson’s smoky voice fills the air, repeating the title.

“Names” is a chilly mope of a tune that doesn’t get dragged under its depression, thanks to Johnson’s genuine delivery. Musically, it’s a three-chord, minor key waltz, with Johnson repeating a lyrical phrase along with a descending third. Its late-night vibe calls to mind American Music Club at their most mellow.

On “Things…” Johnson opens with some fiery guitar work, jamming in an unconventional rhythm against the drums and bass, before settling into a two-chord minor key groove. Johnson and second guitarist Bret Netson – of Built to Spill fame – share a vocal which can only be described as sounding like it was beamed up from the ninth circle of Hell.

The record’s only cover is a version of “Deliver Me from My Enemies,” a song originally recorded by Yabby You and written by Vivian Jackson. While it was originally a somewhat hopeful reggae tune, Johnson completely reworks it into his own style, adding a stinging sadness and a slow, ringing resonance from his telecaster.

Speaking of gorgeous guitar tones, the instrumental track “The Introduction” – which actually comes towards the end of the album – features Johnson playing ambient, clean notes on his guitar, which resemble Slowdive’s work during the Pygmalion era of the band.

Some albums save the best for last. What Would You Do is one of those albums, closing with the haunting, yet strangely uplifting “Over.” And it does so with a twist. While “Things…” evoked the sound of the ninth circle of Hell, Johnson references Purgatory here.

Rather than penning his own lyrics, he reads several verses from Canto XVII of Dante’s Purgatorio. This brave act would collapse in a pile of hubris if it weren’t for the gorgeous instrumental backing. Johnson plays a heavily flanged and delayed part on his telecaster, a figure which finishes with a stinging arpeggio.

It all ends with the part when Dante’s guide informs him that he must discover the true nature of love for himself – the only logical conclusion to the album. Much like a cliffhanger ending to a film, Johnson leaves the end of the album open to interpretation.

While Mike Johnson is best known for his collaborations with other artists, it is his own solo work where we get closest to understanding the true nature of the man himself. On What Would You Do, he reached the pinnacle of artistic achievement while trapsing through the dark woods of his mind.

Up Records/2002

 

 

 

Mojave 3 – Out of Tune

 

Mojave 3 – Out of Tune

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve led a moderately successful cult band from Reading. You’ve had your sound compared to everything from Cocteau Twins to the Twin Peaks soundtrack. And then it all goes up in flames due to label woes.

So was the story of Slowdive in 1995. The seminal shoegazing band released what would eventually be hailed as a genre classic, Souvlaki in 1993. But by 1994, the group were having problems with their American label, SBK. In a rather controversial move, the label refused to fund the North American leg of the Souvlaki tour.

To make matters worse, while SBK weren’t giving Slowdive the financial backing they needed, they also refused to drop the group from their label roster. Slowdive were stuck in a contract which did not benefit them. They were forced to fund the tour out of pocket.

After the end of the tour, guitarist and songwriter Neil Halstead immersed himself in the burgeoning ambient/techno music scene. He started hanging out with Mark Van Hoen of Locust, as well as members of Seefeel in dingy electronic nightclubs. Halstead wanted to capture the sounds he heard.

He holed up in his London apartment and began demoing material which utilized loops, samples, and a lot of negative space. Many of these ideas would find their way onto Slowdive’s final album for 22 years, 1995’s Pygmalion.

The group also simultaneously recorded their first soundtrack album for the 1994 indie film I Am The Elephant, You Are The Mouse. They were also finally free of the pesky SBK contract. Things seemed to be looking up for the band, but they were only going to get worse.

Although Slowdive were finally free of SBK, they had not signed an American distribution deal for their new album. This left the album to be stranded in the UK, only seeing a very limited release by Creation Records in February 1995.

Because Creation were not receiving licensing money from an American label off Slowdive’s record, this made the band redundant in the label’s eyes. Consequently, Slowdive were dropped from their roster.

While it may have seemed like the end of the band, Slowdive opted to keep going – albeit in a slightly different configuration. Almost immediately after being dropped, bassist Nick Chaplin and guitarist Christian Savill left the group. This dwindled the lineup to Halstead, Vocalist Rachel Goswell, and drummer Ian McCutcheon.

At the same time, Halstead was looking to take his music in a new direction. While Pygmalion featured a few tracks with acoustic guitars and slow tempos, Halstead was inspired to move further down that path. The trio – still called Slowdive at the time – recorded a six-song demo tape in this new style.

Among the songs was the Lynchian “Love Songs on the Radio” featuring a slide guitar and Goswell’s most stunning vocal to date, “Sarah” which featured prominent use of piano and Halstead and Goswell’s ethereal harmonies, as well as “Candle Song 3” where Halstead displayed a newfound love for Leonard Cohen and Nick Drake.

Cassettes emblazed with the title “Slowdive Demo” were promptly shipped out to record labels in hopes of enticing their A&R departments. One of these tapes found their way into the hands of Ivo Watts-Russell. The 4AD founder had a reputation for cultivating a family atmosphere at his artist-centric label.

However, like Slowdive, his fortunes had turned sour recently. After letting go of his two pet projects Cocteau Twins and Red House Painters, he was looking for a new flagship band within the dreampop/slowcore genres. While Watts-Russell had received the demo tape, the stigma of being dropped by Creation made Slowdive a dying band in his eyes.

When he finally listened, however, he was blown away. He wanted to release the demo tape as an album, just as Red House Painters did with their debut Down Colorful Hill. But Goswell insisted that it wasn’t done, and an additional three songs were recorded with Simon Rowe on guitar.

The band also renamed themselves Mojave 3 around this time. A friend of theirs said the sound of the music evoked the vastness of the desert and that they should use “Mojave” as a band name. Because another band used the name Mojave, a “3” was added to their name.

The debut album, Ask Me Tomorrow, was released in October 1995. A mere eight months after releasing the final Slowdive album, Mojave 3 were able to realize their full artistic potential. The feat is even more impressive when taking the previous 18 months of struggle and hardship into account.

The genesis of Mojave 3’s second album – 1998’s Out of Tune – was much simpler. They came up with another batch of songs and recorded them with a growing confidence and fire. However, Neil Halstead also added Dylan to his pantheon of influences. This is immediately apparent on opener “Who Do You Love.”

Two strummed acoustic guitars and Halstead’s most nasal vocal to date introduce the track in modest fashion. When the chorus hits, however – with farfisa organ and trumpets – it is something new and exciting. Halstead manages to sound both cheerier and more energized than anything on the first album. But things only get better from here.

Like “Mercy” from the first album, “Give What You Take” calls back to the Slowdive sound of Souvlaki with dreamy harmonies and a churning, hypnotic repeating guitar figure. Better still, a pedal steel guitar is featured prominently, blending in Americana influences with their British folk.

On “Caught Beneath Your Heel,” Halstead arrives at a sound combining The American Analog Set with Spiritualized. A droning vox organ introduces the track along with gently strummed acoustic guitars. Halstead sings a tale of love gone wrong, as Goswell harmonizes and the track builds to a gospel crescendo.

Guest singer Lisa Millett takes a gorgeous scat solo in the middle of the track. Her vocals work gloriously against the backdrop of the music, and it feels like a moment that could’ve been on Spiritualized’s Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space album.

But perhaps “All Your Tears” is the best song of all. A minimalist affair blending “Vapour Trail”-esque acoustic guitars with gentle leads and electric piano, it is truly gorgeous. Vocally, Halstead is in full Dylan territory once again. When he sings “something changed, my friend” you can feel the presence of Robert Zimmerman in the air. If any song could evoke the feeling of a rainy, early fall day, it would be this one.

The 90s were a tremendous time of self-discovery and artistic exploration for Neil Halstead. He discovered a knack for ambient electronic, minimalist post-rock, and Nick Drake styled folk. But with Mojave 3, Halstead reached the pinnacle of artistic expression. While Ask Me Tomorrow has the better story, Out of Tune is an equally worthy successor.

4AD/1998