Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd

If there is one thing I've learned from writing about all of these Robert Pollard compositions over the past several months, it is that the Guided by Voices honcho has many, many quiet, tender tunes. I've long been a fan of his great Who-like rock tunes, fantastic, soaring anthems driven by power chords and crashing drums. But someone with the inclination could put together a pretty amazing little singer-songwriter album if they cherrypicked all of the songs like "Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd" from Pollard's catalog.

I mean, this thing is positively Crosby, Stills & Nash caliber. Pollard, dueting with himself, sings over some nice finger-picked guitar while a lone, barely noticed keyboard note fills in some of the aural background.

Lyrically, this feels like a Revolutionary War tale, something no doubt conjured by the title:

Over the big river
Scum of us rinsed by a hard rain
The tar, the teeth & the gear

Yet no trail
All around the camp
And that is our game
To brag and complain
To guess who goes next
To tally the scars
Learn every weakness

The song is bookended by near parallel lines that foretell some degradation in the situation of the person from whose viewpoint Pollard sings, starting with "Great days are becoming" and ending with the slightly less hopeful "Great days will be coming."

Regardless, it's a beautiful little song and another example that Pollard, despite the prominence of big, loud songs in his repertoire -- and the drunken party that always accompanies their performance -- he's equally talented at pinning his heart to his sleeve and singing sweetly.