Robert Pollard, The Independent, SF, 2/25/06.

Random notes:

1. This will sound blasphemous, but Uncle Bob was not in the greatest form last night. An hour into the concert, Pollard was already slurring his speech, staggering around on stage (and later, would forget the lyrics to “Don’t Stop Now” at the encore) — a result, perhaps, of the many Bud Lights and swigs of tequila (and a puff on a joint from an audience member). This didn’t keep him from the flying kicks though.

2. Though the band certainly was in fantastic form: tighter, louder, more aggressive — and as Pollard himself kept repeating throughout, “more professional.” (After all, Tommy Keene was playing lead guitar and keyboards, and Jon Wurster from Superchunk was behind the drums.)

3. I was also, unbelievably, falling asleep! (This may be a combination of 5 hours’ sleep plus various other things I won’t name.) This was in contrast, I think, to the 1-2-3 punch of Guided By Voices concerts of old, where the hits kept on coming; the set (which was over 2 hours) more or less meandered through From a Compound Eye. (The album itself is worth checking out, but the sheer quantity of songs has made it difficult to remember most of them; the excellent live versions of the 5-minute epic “Conqueror of the Moon” and “U.S. Mustard Company” made me want to listen to the originals again.)

4. The High Strung was excellent: melodic power-pop nuggets in longer twisty musical suite wrappers. (Sorry, I can’t think of another way to say it.) Plus a hilarious story about Arby’s-related diarrhea.

5. “We’re not playing ‘Echos Myron.’ No ‘Echos Myron.’ Fuck ‘Echos Myron’ fans. That’s right, boo me.”

6. “Did I say Liz Phair was an attractive woman?”

7. After long solos on (I think) “The Kingdom Within:” “That was our ‘jam.’ We did it because we’re in San Francisco.”

8. And so we finally got to the encore (“This is the GBV set,” Pollard said) which comprised, in no order: “Sad If I Lost It,” “Girls of Wild Strawberries,” “Get Under It” (I think), “Game of Pricks,” “My Kind of Soldier,” “The Brides Have Hit Glass” (a surprise), “Choking Tara,” “Little Lines,” “My Valuable Hunting Knife” and (best of all) “Gold Star for Robot Boy.”

9. The funniest part was one of the new T-shirts on sale, with a really cool Terry Gilliam-style image on the front. And on the back: “Gang of Four – $45 / The Pixies – $60 / Robert Pollard – priceless.”


The Best Music I Heard All Year, 2005 Edition.

In alphabetical order:

The Carter Family, In the Shadow of Clinch Mountain (2000)

A few weeks back a reader of this blog wrote to tell me that I was the only other Filipino he knew that was a fan of American folk music. I don’t understand it either; certainly it stirred up no strands of any sort of racial memory! American folk, in short, was the music that was most culturally alien to me; I never heard it growing up, or on the radio then and now. But there was something about the Carter Family that spoke to me in ways I can barely articulate — these rough-hewn, gorgeous voices calling from a faraway time and land, singing of the curt brutality of an interrupted life, the innocence of souls in love, and a faith in an incorruptible future.

M.I.A. & Diplo, Piracy Funds Terrorism, Volume 1 (2004)

Boomf boomf. Are there banlieue in London? I don’t think so. Choco slick and a kick in the teef. Chika chika. Tamil tiger daughter. Jungle guerrilla graphics. Hip pop history, Bangles and Pepa remixed. Hip hop is all de tournament anyway. Galang galang. You could be a follower but who’s your leader? Crank it up. Break that cycle or it will kill ya.

Robert Pollard, Zoom (2005)

It’s been a good year for the fans of the Robert Pollard Experience: a concert DVD, a band biography, three side-project albums, a soundtrack for a Steven Soderbergh film, an art chapbook, an album coming out from Merge next year, a nationwide concert tour, a box set with a hundred new songs — and this absolutely delightful four-song EP, sourced from some alternate ’70s pop universe.

Puffy, Nice. (2003)

Let’s get this clear: the vaguely Orientalist TV show on the Cartoon Network has nothing to do with their music. With that out of the way, let me talk about Nice. There are, of course, frequent moments of genius scattered all throughout their discography, but Nice. — an all-Andy Sturmer affair, but that shouldn’t scare you — is simply bursting with pop sweetness: the clap-your-hands-say-yeah! joy of “Long Beach Nightmare” (sheer perfection), the irrepressibly happy “Atarashii Hibi” (Brand New Day). Naysayers will say that every other riff seems to be stolen from somewhere else, but that’s part of the genius: a reclaiming of an international musical vocabulary that transcends all borders.

Teenage Fanclub, Songs from Northern Britain (1997)

Like most people, I first heard Teenage Fanclub when the cheerfully discordant anthem “The Concept” hit MTV; like most people, I (erroneously) figured they had more or less sunk without a trace as (again, erroneously) Glasgow’s response to grunge, cranking out similar-sounding albums from then on; like most people, I rediscovered the band through Nick Hornby’s Songbook, for which Hornby picked two songs.

Songs from Northern Britain is an album of transcendent beauty; the fact that it’s composed of the simplest four-minute love songs makes it even more of a marvel. (Which makes it a different kind of transcendent beauty than that of, say, Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life, but I digress.)

I will cop out and quote instead some anonymous music fan, who wrote this review on

Part of the grandeur of this record is a point which nearly everyone has missed: many of these songs are hymns to God. Listen to the first line of the record: “I don’t know if you can hear me, I’m feeling down and can’t think clearly….” This is not written for a girlfriend; it is written to God; a bare human call to his creator. And they are beautiful songs. There are none about drugs, none about being in Teenage Fanclub; but all are about what it is to be a spiritual being on this earth… If you think it is about girlfriends, you miss the point and much of the majesty. “I can’t feel my soul without you.” I could go on–this record brings tears to my eyes. It is staggering and epic.

I don’t necessarily agree with all of it — of course it’s about loved ones too — but the writer perfectly captures the spiritual core of the not-incompatible pulls of yearning and contentment throughout the album’s teenage symphonies to God. Musically, Teenage Fanclub draws from the three B’s (the Beatles, the Byrds, and Big Star), and they stand with those three on the strength of this album alone.

In any case, Teenage Fanclub’s Songs from Northern Britain was my favorite album of this year. Sometime this summer I started living with it, listening to it before I went to sleep, or when I woke up in the morning, I went running with it, I played it in the car and sang at the top of my lungs, all with an ache and joy in my heart. It must be what it’s like to be in love again.

TsuShiMaMiRe, Pregnant Fantasy (2004)

More details here. Key phrase: hair flying everywhere.


Your New Favorite Song.

Soundtrack for an Imaginary Wes Anderson Film, Track #2.

I don’t think this actually fits: a short meticulous and Baroque-sounding composition, like the ones Mark Mothersbaugh writes, would be better, but Robert Pollard’s “Dr. Fuji and Henry Charleston (Zoom Variation)” is such a sweet instrumental gem that I just had to include it in the mix.

Pollard’s album Zoom, by the way, is four tracks of sheer pop perfection, almost as if these were outtakes from Bee Thousand or Alien Lanes. In my book it’s already some of the best music I’ve heard all year (you’ll read a longer review in December).

Hear it (192 kb, 2.43 mb).


Guided by Beer

From FFWD Weekly, Robert Pollard’s favorite beers:

1. Tequila

2. Miller Lite

3. Bud Lite

4. Guinness

5. Michelob

Plus Uncle Bob has a “literary magazine” out now, entitled EAT, available at Rockathon Records — collages, “more than 30 pages worth of poetry,” and (this is gonna be great) “over 100 new band names.”


Uncle Bob Says…

On why I have no real blog entry today:

That’s why I love San Francisco. You’re irresponsible. You drink. You shirk work. How many of you have to go to work tomorrow? Shirk work. Fuck work! You tell your boss that Uncle Bob said “Fuck you!”

– liberally paraphrased from Robert Pollard at the Guided By Voices concert last night at Bimbo’s in SF