The Releases: August by Cake (LP—GBVi, 2017)
When I started this project in January, I did so with a number of what noted war criminal Donald Rumsfeld once referred to as “known knowns.” I knew that each of the various eras of Guided by Voices would elicit a certain level of excitement, and that my enthusiasm for writing a weekly piece would thusly ebb and flow as I progressed through each phase.
The initial phase—which spanned the first five weeks of the year—covered the “Pre-Propeller Era”: the years in which Robert Pollard and his rotating band of drinking buddies released a series of little-heard LPs, while struggling to leave much of an impact on their local Dayton, Ohio scene. I knew the highlights from these albums reasonably well, but had never spent much time becoming familiar with the lesser-known songs. And in spending a week with each of them, two of those records (especially Devil Between My Toes) saw their reputations grow significantly in my estimation. That fact—coupled with the ‘newness’ of The GBV Project itself—made for an enjoyable opening stretch.
Next was the “Classic Era”: the period that found Pollard and company becoming the darlings of the American rock underground, while releasing what is nearly-universally regarded as their finest work. While I knew the canon albums like the back of my hand, I was genuinely excited to dive deeper into the EPs, B-sides, and plentiful outtakes from this era. And even while spending entire weeks revisiting ultra-familiar records like Alien Lanes, there were still times where I was forced to move on sooner than I would have liked to.
Then there was the “Institution Era”: the point in which Guided by Voices were a well-established act, but one that became increasingly associated as the work of Robert Pollard—plus whoever happened to be joining him at that particular time. These albums were nearly as familiar to me as the ones from the previous era; especially as it was during this time that I became a GBV fan, and a day-of-release buyer. There weren’t a ton of personal discoveries—aside from my first sustained time with the initial Suitcase installment—but it yielded several enjoyable weeks of nostalgic listening.
Perhaps surprisingly, it was the fourth era that I was most excited for. I had spent a lot of time with Let’s Go Eat the Factory and The Bears for Lunch, but the “Reunion Era” coincided with so many other obligations—not to mention other music that was competing for my attention—that I had never really internalized the other four LPs. There may not have been much in the way of major revelations, but the era as a whole produced a genuinely impressive amount of great material during its brief run-time.
But with last week’s anomaly in the rearview mirror, I’ve now reached the “Current Era” of GBV. And in all honesty, this is the only phase of the five that I’ve been less-than-excited to reevaluate. In fact, I’ve been eyeing the soon-to-be-nineteen 2017-present Guided by Voices albums as something of a “final boss” in The GBV Project. Maybe it’s because there are just so many records; maybe it’s because I’ve spent thirty-five consecutive weeks with a significant amount of my listening time devoted to one band; maybe it’s because the past eight years have been utterly fucking exhausting (and hardly nostalgia-inducing).
And while I left myself a chicken exit all the way back on Week 1, I’m not pulling the plug on the project—at least not yet. After all, it’s not as if these records are bad; none of them are really all that close. Really, if I were to hit the brakes at this point, it would be less a result of GBV fatigue than the fact that there’s just a lot of other music that I’d like to listen to right now—if not necessarily for the purpose of writing about it.
But it’s with that context that I arrive at the current incarnation of Guided by Voices: Robert Pollard, Doug Gillard (lead guitar), Bobby Bare Jr. (rhythm guitar), Mark Shue (bass), and Kevin March (drums). For those keeping score, both Gillard and March were GBV vets—both having played in the band during the Institution Era, and March manning the drum kit after Kevin Fennell had been dismissed from the classic lineup reunion. Bucking GBV history, this quintet has remained consistent for over eight years now; and true to GBV form, it has been absurdly prolific.
And both the stability of personnel and the productivity of this group is commendable. They have maintained a touring and recording schedule that would likely destroy a band half their age. And it’s not like they’ve been phoning it in on stage either. When I saw this lineup on their first tour in the summer of 2016, they played a fifty-two song set that left my group of then-thirty-something friends thoroughly exhausted by the end of the evening.
And that same ‘never half-ass it’ mentality also defines the first album that this quintet recorded: 2017’s August by Cake. The first double-LP in Guided by Voices’ extensive catalog, August spans thirty-two tracks—including several written by Pollard’s bandmates. And given the fact that Robert Pollard balked at making even the mighty Bee Thousand a double-album, his willingness to go all in with August by Cake must have been indicative of the mountain of hooks that are to be unearthed here, right? Right?
Of course, the “better-as-a-single-LP” claim that has been thrown at every double album in the history of pop music can be made for August by Cake; but unlike totemic records like London Calling, Blonde on Blonde, and the “White Album,” it’s actually true in this case. August doesn’t really start to hit its stride until Side 2, and the back half of the album could have been trimmed without leaving out anything too essential—while leaving leftover material for B-sides or the inevitable Suitcase 5.
But that’s the kind of nitpicking that I typically find grating. After all, if Bob Pollard has earned the right to put out 100-song box sets of his outtakes, surely he’s built up enough goodwill for a double album. But here’s the real dilemma: while August by Cake generally maintains a reasonably high floor—aside from the handful of Pollardian throwaways that we’ve all come to expect—its ceiling isn’t all that much higher. That’s right: a great deal of this seventy-one minute opus falls within a range that the kids have come to call ‘mid.’
Pollard’s decision to pad out the track list of GBV’s first double record by farming out songwriting duties to his bandmates—including a pair of newcomers—seems like a curious move; especially since no subsequent record from this lineup has featured a similar division of labor. However, it ultimately yields some of August by Cake‘s most enjoyable moments. For instance, Doug Gillard’s “Goodbye Note” is vaguely reminiscent of the nineties era slow-burn New England indie rock that I usually enjoy listening to as summer turns to fall. Even better is Kevin March’s “Overloaded,” which is often (and fairly) cited as the album’s highpoint.
None of this is to suggest that Pollard comes up empty-handed. His own “Dr. Feelgood Falls Off the Ocean” is a standout, and there are at least another half-dozen tracks here that—while not GBV all-timers—wouldn’t sound hopelessly out of place on a playlist of Pollard’s best tracks from the reunion era. Still, for the man of a million hooks, August by Cake comes up frustratingly short in the memorable melodies department—a fact that is only further emphasized by the album’s imposing length.
And as I embark on the final stretch of this project, that’s what has me a little worried. Robert Pollard has always been prolific; but even though his numerous solo and side projects have added plenty of gems to his catalog, he’s typically put his best foot forward with Guided by Voices. Now that prolificacy is largely focused on his ‘day job.’ But even as someone who has dutifully bought every new GBV record during this current era, I can’t say that there are a ton of songs that really stick with me. I can pull “Free Agents,” “Volcano,” “Space Gun,” and “The Rally Boys” up from memory, but not much more than that.
And while I hoped that revisiting August by Cake would ignite some genuine enthusiasm for latter-day GBV, it merely turned out to be just about as good as I remembered it. Granted, that makes for a plenty solid record, but not one that I’m gonna rush back to, recommend to newcomers, or use to breathe new life into my existing GBV playlists.
And at the same time, my music-listening attention continues to get pulled in a dozen different directions at any given moment. My wife and I were in Las Vegas a few weeks ago, and visited the Punk Rock Museum. Since then, I’ve bought several records by bands that I haven’t listened to in decades. I read Pitchfork‘s excellent Sunday review of The Tragically Hip’s classic Fully Completely the other day, and felt like—especially with hockey season approaching—I’m well overdue for another crawl through the band’s catalog. And last night, I watched Moonrise Kingdom for the first time since it was new, and it reminded me that I need to upgrade my Hank Williams vinyl collection beyond a shitty compilation that doesn’t even include “Ramblin’ Man.”
And in addition to what I want to listen to, I still have another dozen-and-a-half records to trudge through from a band that I love. But these aren’t the records that made me love them.
Rating: 7.2
*Singles are star-rated by their A-side; albums and EPs use the “Russman Reviews” scale.
Bob-ism of the Week: “Ten billion Ringo fans can’t be all wrong / Target your audience then write them a song” (“Cheap Buttons”)
Next Week: Four months after releasing a double album, GBV are at it again.
