12.18.2005
Window of my world
I finished reading Guided by Voices: A Brief History this weekend, and came away from it with a bit more knowledge about the band's extra-musical history, a greater appreciation for the songwriting mastery of leader Robert Pollard and confirmation of my opinion that Jim Greer isn't much of a writer. Anyone with even the faintest interest in the book isn't going to steer clear of it because of any problems with Greer's work, nor should they, but his purple prose, annoying tics and general lack of storytelling skill make this a challenge to navigate.
Greer, as GBV fans will know, was perhaps the most absurd in a long line of odd members of GBV. He was a writer for Spin when he was tapped to fill the umpteenth bass player vacancy in the group. He lasted for one disc, Alien Lanes, and then seemed to fade into obscurity. It was strange yet unsurprising to hear that Greer had landed a contract to write a biography of the band. In the least it seemed that he would be able to offer insights thanks to his connections. He does, it seems, if the many references to himself with the royal "we" are any indication. In the book, "we" did this, and "we" did that, and it quickly becomes clear that "we" is Greer. Why he didn't simply say "I" is beyond me, though it fits with the other stylistic choices that Greer makes that draw way too much attention to the man at the keyboard. It's as if Greer doesn't feel his subject is compelling enough (it is) or that his writing is strong enough to adequately convey the tale told straight (it isn't).
Along the way he makes some asinine statements that add nothing but his own smarmy take on things. That's his right, of course, but he comes off sounding stupid. Rob Schnapf, who produced GBV's Isolation Drills had "worked with Beck and the Foo Fighters and Elliott Smith and a bunch of other mediocre artists," for example. Pollard's side project, Circus Devils, mines the same postrock vein as "those guys The Turtle, from Chicago..." (that would be Tortoise, for those who can't see through Greer's oh-so-clever wit). A dust-up with opener Ted Leo and the Pharmacists late in GBV's run begins, "There is apparently a band called Ted Leo and the Pharmacists..." as if Leo isn't more popular at this point than Pollard (anyone with Soundscan access, prove me wrong with sales figures from Shake the Sheets and Half Smiles of the Decomposed). Pollard is a music fan, and he seems better than such misguided slags in his name would indicate; perhaps he should choose his Boswell a bit more carefully.
As I said earlier, no one will avoid this because of such criticism, and anyone who is a big enough fan of Pollard and GBV to want to read a book about them would be wise to do so. Greer unearths enough interesting fodder and fills in enough historical gaps that it is well worth reading. It does leave plenty of holes, however. Pollard's decision to leave teaching is glossed over, and the creative burst that led to the band's best disc, Bee Thousand and seemingly dozens of great singles and EPs is given cursory explanation but little analysis. Greer taps more talented writers and artists like Richard Meltzer, Michael Azzerad and Steven Soderbergh for help, and they leaven the otherwise oppressive stylistic straightjacket that bogs down the rest of the book. Even Pollard's son Bryan, in three witty vignettes, offers more compelling writing than Greer.
For those who do steer clear, one way to get one-third of the book for free is to visit the Guided by Voices Database. The discography, tour itineraries, set lists and band member details found there make up the last 100 pages of Greer's book.
The other GBV artifact that is likely on the Christmas lists of a lot of stunted adolescent males this season is the DVD of the band's last show, recorded Dec. 31, 2004 at the Metro in Chicago. The Electrifying Conclusion (just to show, by the way, that Greer left much untapped in his book, the title of that last tour and the subsequent DVD comes from the lyrics to the song "Murder Charge" from the album Same Place the Fly Got Smashed from 1990. Pollard rarely throws anything away; he is constantly recycling and repurposing his work. That would be the subject of an entire chapter in a better book) is a fantastic document of a band going out on top. It's four hours of solid should've-been hits, filmed and recorded impeccably. Other GBV videos like Some Drinking Implied and The Who Went Home and Cried are horrible; finally, a video document does the band justice.
Greer, as GBV fans will know, was perhaps the most absurd in a long line of odd members of GBV. He was a writer for Spin when he was tapped to fill the umpteenth bass player vacancy in the group. He lasted for one disc, Alien Lanes, and then seemed to fade into obscurity. It was strange yet unsurprising to hear that Greer had landed a contract to write a biography of the band. In the least it seemed that he would be able to offer insights thanks to his connections. He does, it seems, if the many references to himself with the royal "we" are any indication. In the book, "we" did this, and "we" did that, and it quickly becomes clear that "we" is Greer. Why he didn't simply say "I" is beyond me, though it fits with the other stylistic choices that Greer makes that draw way too much attention to the man at the keyboard. It's as if Greer doesn't feel his subject is compelling enough (it is) or that his writing is strong enough to adequately convey the tale told straight (it isn't).
Along the way he makes some asinine statements that add nothing but his own smarmy take on things. That's his right, of course, but he comes off sounding stupid. Rob Schnapf, who produced GBV's Isolation Drills had "worked with Beck and the Foo Fighters and Elliott Smith and a bunch of other mediocre artists," for example. Pollard's side project, Circus Devils, mines the same postrock vein as "those guys The Turtle, from Chicago..." (that would be Tortoise, for those who can't see through Greer's oh-so-clever wit). A dust-up with opener Ted Leo and the Pharmacists late in GBV's run begins, "There is apparently a band called Ted Leo and the Pharmacists..." as if Leo isn't more popular at this point than Pollard (anyone with Soundscan access, prove me wrong with sales figures from Shake the Sheets and Half Smiles of the Decomposed). Pollard is a music fan, and he seems better than such misguided slags in his name would indicate; perhaps he should choose his Boswell a bit more carefully.
As I said earlier, no one will avoid this because of such criticism, and anyone who is a big enough fan of Pollard and GBV to want to read a book about them would be wise to do so. Greer unearths enough interesting fodder and fills in enough historical gaps that it is well worth reading. It does leave plenty of holes, however. Pollard's decision to leave teaching is glossed over, and the creative burst that led to the band's best disc, Bee Thousand and seemingly dozens of great singles and EPs is given cursory explanation but little analysis. Greer taps more talented writers and artists like Richard Meltzer, Michael Azzerad and Steven Soderbergh for help, and they leaven the otherwise oppressive stylistic straightjacket that bogs down the rest of the book. Even Pollard's son Bryan, in three witty vignettes, offers more compelling writing than Greer.
For those who do steer clear, one way to get one-third of the book for free is to visit the Guided by Voices Database. The discography, tour itineraries, set lists and band member details found there make up the last 100 pages of Greer's book.
The other GBV artifact that is likely on the Christmas lists of a lot of stunted adolescent males this season is the DVD of the band's last show, recorded Dec. 31, 2004 at the Metro in Chicago. The Electrifying Conclusion (just to show, by the way, that Greer left much untapped in his book, the title of that last tour and the subsequent DVD comes from the lyrics to the song "Murder Charge" from the album Same Place the Fly Got Smashed from 1990. Pollard rarely throws anything away; he is constantly recycling and repurposing his work. That would be the subject of an entire chapter in a better book) is a fantastic document of a band going out on top. It's four hours of solid should've-been hits, filmed and recorded impeccably. Other GBV videos like Some Drinking Implied and The Who Went Home and Cried are horrible; finally, a video document does the band justice.
