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Melody Maker
Ben Clancy
Guided By Voices
The Garage, London
Thanks to Colin
Pritchard for transcribing
Submarine Teams
And I Don't (So Now I Do)
Time Machines
Dragons Awake
Surgical Focus
Alone, Stinking & Unafraid
Waved Out
Tractor Rape Chain
Teenage FBI
Zoo Pie
Things I Will Keep
Cut-Out Witch
Big School
Mushroom Art
My Valuable Hunting Knife
Shocker In Gloomtown
Far Out Crops
Game Of Pricks
Subspace Biographies
Tropical Robots
I Am A Tree
Wrecking Now
Maggie Turns To Flies
Strumpet Eye
Hold On Hope
Peephole
Psychic Pilot Clocks Out
Echoes Myron
encore 1:
Salty Salute
Bulldog Skin
Hot Freaks
Motor Away
I Am A Scientist
encore 2:
Get Under It
Postal Blowfish
Little Lines
Your Name Is Wild
Would you look at that set list? Massive, isn't
it? It obscures the
band in the photograph, but you probably don't know what they look
like, as it goes.
What you might know is that Guided By Voices have been around for a
dozen or so years and have released a hell of a lot of records. Theirs
is a world where a two-minute song is an epic and all songs are short
and massively invigorating.
Mainman Robert Pollard is old enough to surf the end-of-millennium
Zeitgeist of agitated punk rock and Beatles hooks, because he can
remember those things first time around. He's got the upper hand, to
say the least. It's not archaeology in sound, mind. It's razor-sharp
bursts of dirty noise and blistering melodies that is very now and
very important.
We've backtracked, so let's fast forward to the encores. There are
two of them, nine songs in all, and by then they still haven't raided
all the jewels in their back catalogue. Full marks for playing "My
Valuable Hunting Knife", "Motor Away" and "Tractor Rape
Chain" and a
sulky moue for ignoring "Kicker of Elves". Not that there's room for
complaint, 'cause this Guided By Voices gig is a delight. A flurry of
songs, with barely a respite, are thrown at us. We hardly have time
to thank them.
Someone turns to their mate and yells, "They're the new Oasis."
Close, they have just landed a new deal with Creation, but really
they're the old Oasis and the new Oasis and much better than that
might suggest. GBV could be - and probably have been - compared to a
thousand bands. They include Pavement, The Who, Blondie,
early-Seventies melody kings Big Star and the Elastica-endorsed Wire.
All stuck in the grinder and beaten into shape. Truly, it's a joy.
If you're still out there, Bonehead and Guigsy, perhaps you should
take note. Pollard is a father of two, he's older than you and he
manages to spend months on tour and write a few double albums a week.
It's because he's clearly wrapped up in his world of music, so
obviously loves it. Life in a rock band isn't a chore. Creating
superb music and making people really happy is a f***ing great way to
make a living.
Indeed, Pollard is like an excitable kid, jumping up and down and
waving his mic around. It becomes increasingly apparent during the
gig that Pollard is totally wankered. He chain smokes, and he drinks
beer like he can sense Prohibition just around the corner. This is a
man who once appeared in an American women's magazine for the sole
reason that he could espouse the joys of Budweiser and beg for free
beer. This is a man who commands our respect, then.
The sounds they make are bruised, brutal and beautiful. Scattergun
snapshot slabs of noise with soft centres. Snappy and streetwise,
it's playful and it feels brilliant to be here. Last week, record
shops had old GBV albums in the sale bins. Get there quick, things
are going to change.