Guided By Voices
Human Amusements At Hourly Rates
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Guided By Voices
Human Amusements At Hourly Rates
Matador, 2003
RiYL: The Who, Cheap Trick, The Strokes, Frank Black |
Which means that, rather than bitch and moan about how far from its lo-fi, four-track roots GBV has traveled (as many of its diehard fans have), music fans should be celebrating the fact that the guy, like the proverbial Energizer bunny, just keeps going, street cred be damned.
The same damning verdict has been leveled before, sometimes by yours truly, on Frank Black, whose early work with The Pixies was a fortuitous confluence of cultural movement, a barren entertainment mainstream, sparkling musicianship and smart-ass catharsis all rolled into one. After the Pixies' corpse was so ably robbed by Nirvana and other self-pronounced copycats, fans overlooked Black's ambitious post-punk work, as if it was merely a dinner mint served after a four-course. Which, to some extent, it was, but, like our current president, diehard fans love to talk out of both sides of their mouths. If Frank Black stayed Black Francis and kept churning out modified copies of "River Euphrates" and "Dead,” the Pixies’ faithful would have been lamenting the been-there-done-that nature of their work.
Personally speaking, I always thought GBV's legendary lo-fi aesthetic was a copout. I understood that, at least in the beginning, much of it was forged out of necessity, while the rest might have been a middle finger flipped in the direction of the slag metal soiling modern rock radio stations across the globe at the time. In the words of Stuart Smalley, "That was ... OK." But after pulling in a bit of dough, enough to buy some more equipment and a good publicist, it made sense to me that Pollard, Tobin Sprout and company would stretch out, crank it up and rock the shit out of the place. After all, it's no secret that Pollard is a major Who fan, and those cats never had a problem turning it up to 11.
But, proving that indie fans can be just as fickle as the mainstream masses they lampoon mercilessly, stretching seems to have brought nothing but declining sales and smug disavowal. I'm of the opposite mind: as long as someone wants to give Robert Pollard or Frank Black or whoever money to make an album, I say only an idiot would turn that down and go out on top, with the flashes blinking and the ladies moaning.
Greatest hits albums are always a gamble, mostly because they're crafted by label wankers with little relation to the bands they're promoting; check Death To The Pixies or Nirvana's last release for more on that one. Human Amusements At Hourly Rates suffers no such ignominy, because it was compiled by Pollard himself (it appears in an altered form within the GBV box set, Hardcore UFOs). It's a capable introduction to one of indie rock's more compelling acts, as well as a rocking album in its own right. And, thankfully, Pollard has stuck to his guns, stuffing almost as many, if not more, recent nuggets than the standard Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes must-haves.
To wit, "My Kind Of Solider" and "The Best Of Jill Hives,” two addictive tongue-twisters from 2003's Earthquake Glue make the cut, although that album's cool-as-shit "Of Mites And Men" does not. Same deal with 1997's post-Sprout classic Mag Earwhig!: The rockin', perhaps autobiographical "Bulldog Skin" ("I played the part/I played the start/I made a table out of clay/I placed my hands/Upon the plans") and the poignant, echo-heavy "Learning To Hunt" get back-to-back billing. Even the critically lambasted Do The Collapse, produced by The Cars’ Ric Ocasek, is given a short moment in the sun by Pollard. Its "Things I Will Keep" is the album's de facto opener; as the first song, the minute-plus "A Salty Salute" from Alien Lanes, is more or less a short kick-off.
Meanwhile, Pollard's finest post-Sprout work from 2001's stunning Isolation Drills lands three nods: the amazing "Twilight Campfighter,” as well as the spirited jams of "Chasing Heather Crazy" and "Glad Girls.”
Of course, songs from Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, both college radio staples, will most likely have the nostalgia gears turning at full speed for the GBV faithful. But while Bee Thousand nets four tunes -- "Echos Myron," "Tractor Rape Chain," the hilarious T-Rex-ish "Hot Freaks" (favorite Pollard quip: "I met a non-dairy creamer explicitly laid out like a fruitcake/With a wet spot bigger than a Great Lake"), and, the album's popular closer, "I Am A Scientist" -- only the bottom-heavy rock of "Motor Away" makes the cut from Alien Lanes.
Why that is, only Pollard knows, but that's what makes this breackneck introduction to the GBV genius worth buying. Unless you've got loads of cash and can purchase the entire Pollard backlog, there is no better place to go to witness the visionary impact of this clever band of cultural hecklers. Far from being a slapdash collection of past triumphs, Human Amusements actually feels like Guided By Voices' best album yet.
SCOTT THILL |