The Releases: Under the Bushes Under the Stars (LP—Matador, 1996) / The Official Ironmen Rally Song (Single—Matador, 1996) / Cut-Out Witch (Single—Matador, 1996)
In 2020, Rolling Stone published a revised version of their top 500 albums of all-time. Topping the list was Marvin Gaye’s 1971 masterpiece, What’s Going On—as unimpeachable a record as you will find in the pantheon of great pop albums, and a perfectly respectable choice. But while my podcasting partner and I were able to squeeze two episodes of content out of discussing the top ten albums on said list—skip those first few “finding our voice” episodes if you’re interested in the podcast series—it suggested that I care about Rolling Stone magazine way more than I actually do. While Rolling Stone undoubtedly helped to lay the groundwork for half-decent pop music criticism during the sixties—a torch carried (to varying degrees of quality) by Creem in the seventies, Spin in the nineties, or Pitchfork in the twenty-aughts—the magazine’s continuing attempts to corner the act of defining the “great rock canon” is rendered ever more embarrassing with each fawning review of a middling new Bruce Springsteen or U2 album. As Kurt Cobain so succinctly pointed out in Nirvana’s 1992 cover shoot for Rolling Stone, “corporate magazines still suck”—especially when they refuse to bite the many hands that feed them.
Still, this doesn’t mean that all aspects of Rolling Stone‘s (revise-every-few-years-to-prove-that-we’re-still-relevant-enough-to-generate-discourse) Top 500 Albums issues are inherently flawed. I’ll be completely honest in admitting that a circa-2004 edition was instrumental in expanding my knowledge of ‘older-than-me’ music far beyond its then-rudimentary boundaries. Not only did that list open up several new avenues, but each of those avenues led to countless others. In fact, aside from a punk-centric 1995 issue of Guitar World—where I first heard of titles like Pink Flag, Marquee Moon, and Singles Going Steady—no single copy of any magazine proved to be more formative in shaping my musical explorations. And while neither of these issues represented ‘Great Journalism’ by any stretch of the imagination, they were godsends for a curious mind looking for next steps. I will probably scoff when I see Rolling Stone‘s inevitable next attempt at such a list—it’s been nearly two whole years since the last one—but if it helps some similarly-clueless/curious kid in discovering Odessy and Oracle, 3 Feet High and Rising, or Vespertine, I suppose its existence is justified.
There’s another aspect of that 2020 list that I found particularly interesting. As is generally the case with these things, Rolling Stone reached its conclusions by soliciting over 300 artists and “industry figures”—probably too many of the latter—and included within those ranks was one Robert Pollard. Scanning through Pollard’s list of fifty albums offers a largely-unsurprising glimpse into his (and thus Guided by Voices’) biggest influences: The Who, David Bowie, R.E.M., Devo, Big Star, Wire, Captain Beefheart, Lou Reed, early Genesis. Sure, his list is dominated by ‘white dudes with guitars,’ but this isn’t exactly shocking—as Pollard is both a white dude with a guitar, and surrounds himself with a lot of white dudes with guitars. If Rolling Stone‘s entire list were as monochromatic it would be a cause for concern; but in the case of a sixty-something midwesterner/life-long unabashed rocker, it’s understandable and hardly disappointing.
What I did find disappointing about Pollard’s list was the album that claimed the top spot: The Beatles’ Abbey Road. Now look, I adore The Beatles. Their place of supremacy amongst all modern pop acts is essentially beyond debate. They are the archetype for everything worthwhile in the artistic medium that I care most about. But Abbey Road? The album that I—in the aforementioned podcast—once referred to as the “Basic Beatles Album”? Really, Bob? After all, you picked Their Satanic Majesties Request as your Rolling Stones representative—which, by the way, totally tracks—but Abbey Road? Over Rubber Soul? Revolver? Sgt. Pepper? “The White Album”? This factoid has been on my mind all week, ultimately because the more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that 1996’s Under the Bushes Under the Stars—the next album in this ongoing project—is GBV’s equivalent of Abbey Road. Allow me to elaborate.
Famously, Abbey Road was recorded past the ‘point of no return’ for the Fab Four. The fractures in their finely-curated facade had already crept into the picture by the time of the 1967 sessions for Sgt. Pepper, and the death of manager Brian Epstein later that year only accelerated their demise. By the time of 1968’s The Beatles (colloquially known as “The White Album”), the once-airtight quartet had been reduced to recording in separate rooms of EMI’s Abbey Road Studios, bickering over business decisions, and unsubtly disapproving of each others’ personal life choices. Abbey Road was a last-ditch effort to put together one final Beatle album, after the contentious sessions that (eventually) produced the Let It Be LP.
And while the sharpest divisions in the group’s ranks are generally associated with the Let It Be sessions—a notion that is partially dispelled by Peter Jackson’s exhaustive Get Back miniseries—the tensions that pulled the world’s greatest band apart were still very present during the recording of Abbey Road. One only needs to look into the details of the laborious sessions for Paul McCartney’s “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”—not to mention the animosity that John Lennon, George Harrison, and the ever-affable Ringo Starr had for the song—to see that The Beatles were on their last legs.
And this frustration is practically palpable throughout Abbey Road: the lone Beatles record that—as I mentioned in the aforementioned podcast—doesn’t positively “brim with joy.” It’s the tired—and occasionally depressing—result of four men who could hardly stand being in each others’ presence. It was made as its creators were beginning to commit more and more of their time toward solo projects. It also has an uncharacteristically polished sheen—partially the result of the band’s first (and only) sessions working with a solid-state mixing console—that gives it a more modern, yet slightly sterile sound. However, given the fact that it is still a Beatles album, Abbey Road is also brilliant; and it’s still better than at least 99.99% of the pop albums that have ever been recorded.
And much of this is also true of Under the Bushes Under the Stars. While Guided by Voices will never occupy the same space in the popular consciousness as The Beatles, their 1996 album was also ‘famously’ a product of highly fractious circumstances. The band initially worked with Kim Deal, but when those sessions collapsed, they teamed up with Steve Albini. In total, GBV would work with a series of five outside collaborators to complete the record, and this dynamic dramatically altered the working relationship of the quintet. For one thing, working with ‘outsiders’ ultimately marginalized the role of Tobin Sprout—who had, at least for the group’s most-recent work, manned the four-track machine that committed Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes to tape. Sprout still makes his presence felt across Under the Bushes—as he penned four of the album’s songs—but his role was undoubtedly diminished. It’s not a coincidence that 1996 would also see the release of his debut solo album, Carnival Boy.
And while Robert Pollard still contributed the lion’s share of material for Under the Bushes, he too was readying a solo debut—Not in My Airforce—at the time. For the first time in Guided by Voices’ existence, its leading figure would have his attention at least partially diverted by another creative endeavor. As such, Under the Bushes Under the Stars ever-so-slightly lacks the creative focus and spark that had defined GBV’s then-recent pair of masterworks. Add to it the fact that the band had left behind the lo-fi parameters of home recording for the comparatively posh excesses of a professional twenty-four track studio, and you have two fundamental shifts to GBV’s modus operandi.
But the divided attentions of Robert Pollard and Tobin Sprout were not the only personnel threats that GBV faced while recording Under the Bushes Under the Stars. While the “so-called classic lineup”—as Pollard likes to refer to it—was always something of a misnomer, there were serious rifts developing within the band. Former Spin writer Jim Greer had joined as GBV’s bassist in 1995, temporarily solidifying a role that had been anything-but-fixed. However, as the recording sessions with Kim Deal—Greer’s then-girlfriend—fell apart, his loyalties would understandably be tested. He ultimately would side with Deal over GBV. Long-time guitarist Mitch Mitchell had never been the most reliable (or stable) presence in the band, and while Pollard valued Mitchell’s contributions to the group, Pollard ultimately came to the conclusion that he needed a true ‘hotshot’ guitarist to match his own ambitions. Mitchell would be asked to stay on as a bassist, but considering this a slight, he eventually left the band.
Far more troubling was the case of drummer, Kevin Fennell. It was on a somewhat-disastrous 1995 European tour that Fennell first began backsliding into the substance abuse that he had worked so hard to kick. And though he understood the stability that GBV provided for his former brother-in-law, Pollard also knew that continued access to the rock star lifestyle might literally kill Fennell. Reluctantly, Pollard would dismiss his longtime drummer during the tour for Under the Bushes Under the Stars. And lastly, perhaps it was all of this rock and roll excess—coupled with the arrival of his second child—that ultimately led Tobin Sprout to depart Guided by Voices, at roughly the same point as Greer, Mitchell, and Fennell. Pollard pleaded with Sprout to stay in the group—even offering to “wait” for him—but it proved futile.
And though these developments largely took place after the release of Under the Bushes Under the Stars, the tensions and interpersonal drama that led to them were wholly apparent during the recording sessions. And while it could be a classic example of the “chicken vs. egg” metaphor, I can’t help but feel that the album reflects those tensions in the same way that Abbey Road did for The Beatles. For starters, compare the energy of Under the Bushes to that of any then-recent GBV record. Virtually all of its twenty-four tracks exist in a mid-tempo range that seems to view volume as an antidote for fatigue. That’s not to say that there aren’t genuine gems to be found amongst the material; “The Official Ironmen Rally Song” and “Don’t Stop Now” both fall into this mid-tempo descriptor, and both are unqualified GBV classics. Still, aside from the post-punk highlight “Cut-Out Witch,” there’s not exactly a ton of pace—think “Shocker in Gloomtown,” “Exit Flagger,” or “Motor Away”—to be found here. As a result, Under the Bushes sounds considerably more tired than any Guided by Voices record to date.
And even the hooks—always the selling point of any worthwhile Guided by Voices release—are lacking, at least when compared to the admittedly-lofty standards of Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes. To revisit the Abbey Road connection, think of a song like “Oh! Darling.” Sure, it’s catchy, and it sounds great; but in terms of actual substance, it’s comparatively empty, right? Could the same be said for a song like “Underwater Explosions,” or “Big Boring Wedding”? Where are all of the ‘holy fuck’ melodies? Where are the bizarre-yet-tuneful diversions? Where is the whimsy?
But, just as I conceded that Abbey Road is still brilliant because it’s a product of The Beatles, Under the Bushes Under the Stars is still great because it’s a product of near-peak Guided by Voices. And while these things aren’t exact equivalents, they’re not as far apart as one might initially think. There’s a charm, an abundance, and a vitality to the best of GBV that frequently rivals the best of what pop music has ever produced—including the almighty Beatles.
And ultimately, that’s why I feel slightly let down by both Abbey Road and Under the Bushes Under the Stars. The craftsmanship is there. In fact, most everything that makes for great pop music is present and accounted for. Both of these albums are excellent; but I’d also argue that both of them are the most-overrated albums by their respective creators. And therefore, just as I don’t believe that Abbey Road matches Sgt. Pepper, “The White Album,” or even Magical Mystery Tour, I don’t think that Under the Bushes Under the Stars matches Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, or even Propeller.
But I’m also willing to entertain the possibility that I might be wrong. In approaching this project, Under the Bushes was one of the albums that I was most anticipating spending an entire week with, as I know how highly-regarded it is amongst many GBV fans. I was hoping that this might be the moment in which I finally see the light. And while that didn’t exactly happen, my week with the album certainly reaffirmed my position that—at bare minimum—it’s another damn excellent Guided by Voices record.
And perhaps Under the Bushes Under the Stars is the GBV equivalent of Abbey Road in another meaningful way: it just might be the best place to start your somewhat-less-than-adventurous friends on a path toward the cult of Guided by Voices. After all, the production of Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes might be enough to scare away most listeners, whereas Under the Bushes takes a decidedly ‘big tent’ approach. And ultimately, there’s a lot of value in that. Truly great artists are those that can create works with both esoteric and broad appeal. I mean, let’s not forget that the same band recorded “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Revolution 9”—and only four years apart.
And let’s also not forget that ‘most-overrated’ does not necessarily mean actually overrated. In fact, between Abbey Road and Under the Bushes Under the Stars, I’d argue that only one of those records is genuinely overrated. After all, one of them came in at #5 on that Rolling Stone list. And by the way, where exactly was Bee Thousand on that list?
Ratings: Under the Bushes Under the Stars (8.6) / The Official Ironmen Rally Song (★★★★★) / Cut-Out Witch (★★★★1/2)*
*Singles are star-rated by their A-side; albums and EPs use the “Russman Reviews” scale.
Bob-ism of the Week: “I have entered a shiny new realm / A very different and very spoiled world / It’s with great pleasure I introduce myself / To call and thank you for such delicious pie” (“Big Boring Wedding”)
Next Week: A pair of EPs (almost) bring the “classic era” of GBV to its conclusion.
