First of an Early Go-Getter
Lest anyone think Doug Gillard is only good for some monster guitar riffs and intricate solos, he drops a spooky synth- and piano-driven tune on us thanks to his collaboration with Robert Pollard as the Lifeguards.
"First of an Early Go-Getter" sounds as first like it will be an instrumental. Pollard likes to give his collaborators one instrumental track per album (yes, I'll characterize this as largess rather than sloth), but this isn't that ("Sea of Dead" gets the honor here). Instead, Gillard just takes a mighty long time to set the mood before giving Pollard his aural "here's where you come in" cue.
When he does, adding drums, bass and guitar, the song takes on a ponderous yet insistent tone that Pollard tackles with bravado undercut by some anxiety. I only gather that from his performance; the lyrics are inscrutable as always. Though not, of course, without their charms. Lines like "wistful oboe double, Klondike gut sticker" and "down where and eye stops on a dolphin fairy, the world singing war & roses and we raise our stumps in from the harvest" are puzzling yet oddly compelling (or perhaps oddly compelling because they're so puzzling).
Either way, the song is key evidence in the argument that Pollard really ought to give Gillard a call. His guitar might be the single most identifiable part of the latter-day GBV sound, but it's clear from this that he brought a lot more to the table.
"First of an Early Go-Getter" sounds as first like it will be an instrumental. Pollard likes to give his collaborators one instrumental track per album (yes, I'll characterize this as largess rather than sloth), but this isn't that ("Sea of Dead" gets the honor here). Instead, Gillard just takes a mighty long time to set the mood before giving Pollard his aural "here's where you come in" cue.
When he does, adding drums, bass and guitar, the song takes on a ponderous yet insistent tone that Pollard tackles with bravado undercut by some anxiety. I only gather that from his performance; the lyrics are inscrutable as always. Though not, of course, without their charms. Lines like "wistful oboe double, Klondike gut sticker" and "down where and eye stops on a dolphin fairy, the world singing war & roses and we raise our stumps in from the harvest" are puzzling yet oddly compelling (or perhaps oddly compelling because they're so puzzling).
Either way, the song is key evidence in the argument that Pollard really ought to give Gillard a call. His guitar might be the single most identifiable part of the latter-day GBV sound, but it's clear from this that he brought a lot more to the table.
Labels: Crickets, Mist King Urth