It's a popular wink-wink-nod-nod joke among the diehard Guided By Voices fanbase that dedicated GBV fandom is #notacult (but kind of a cult). You'd think that Robert Pollard and company were in on the joke, considering they decided to celebrate 40 years of the band's existence at a venue built by a 14-group Masonic Temple Association, which is a true story and not the name of the band's new single. As a full disclosure converted GBV head who has in the past attended Heedfest, the band's long-running fan weekend chock full of cover sets and Miller Lites, this first weekend in September absolutely felt like an extension of it, a full-on celebration of all things Guided By Voices. Celebrity superfan Paddy Considine came from overseas with his son Joe, playing a covers set at the Yellow Cab Tavern in Dayton's Oregon District. During the encore of GBV's first night at the Dayton Masonic Center, Scott Marshall (of Chavez fame), Matador Records Director of Digital, A&R Jake Whitener, and GBV manager David Newgarden presented Pollard with a "Most Valuable Lead Singer" trophy. Even Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis, normally reserved, gave the crowd a half-hearted "G! B! V!" chant during the band's opening set. Miller Lites at the venue (along with most other beer) cost a measly $6 per can, a bargain in 2023. During the second night, Pollard took a moment to thank the alcohol distributor, who may or may not have been stocking his personal cooler full of beer bottles and the once-again passed around Jose Cuervo. What's for sure is those bottles were fueling Pollard's high-kicks, 2022 busted knee be damned. Always different, always the same: It was The Fall. Is it now Guided By Voices?
Yes, the same spirit pervades GBV: In a recent beginner's guide to the band, Uproxx critic Steven Hyden described them as having "one foot in the bowling alley, and another foot in the art gallery," whether that's the band's early R.E.M.-indebted material, lo-fi golden era, Aughts arena rock attempts, or the current, arguably most prolific late-career lineup. The quartet of guitarists Doug Gillard and Bobby Bare Jr., bassist Mark Shue, and drummer Kevin March is certainly the most formidable group of instrumentalists to ever back Pollard, and his songwriting on this lineup's albums has notably embraced the proggier, more epic side of his forebears. During the band's anniversary concerts, they paid curatorial attention to these newfound favorites just as much as the "Motor Away" and "Tractor Rape Chain"s: the tempo-changing "Alex Bell", bopping "Dance of Gurus", and even absurdist poem "Razor Bug", delivered a capella by Pollard and Shue. Pollard also admitted how the band tackles the old imperfections, joking that March made sure to play all the original studio version "fuck-ups" from "My Impression Now".
But GBV also had work to do. This year so far, they've released two albums, La La Land and live-to-tape gem Welshpool Frillies, and purportedly (shocker) have two more in the can. Only this band could garner this much crowd enthusiasm by opening a four-decade celebration with the first three songs from their latest album, but when they're as good as the jagged "Meet the Star", cascading "Cruisers' Cross", and Cheap Trick-meets-Crazy Horse ripper "Romeo Surgeon", it doesn't really matter, does it? The sets in general were treated like a normal GBV marathon, featuring but not overwhelmingly dominated by their most recent output. Gillard's trademark guitars chimed through the sludgy "Seedling", while La La Land's "Queen of Spaces" offered a necessarily languid breather between "Everybody Thinks I'm a Raincloud (When I'm Not Looking)" and "Motor Away". To my pleasure, on night two, the band played La La Land closer "Pockets", a song about exactly what you think, that nonetheless exemplifies Pollard's ethos: As long as you have a sense of wonder and a penchant for songwriting, you can maintain constant creativity. Songwriting can be a daily exercise.
Throughout the celebration, Pollard expressed thanks for past and present incarnations of GBV (joking that the current youngins help him up the stairs) as well as the other bands joining the celebration. The inspired lineup was a mix of 90's contemporaries (Dinosaur Jr,, Built to Spill), Dayton connections (the birthplace of Heartless Bastards' Erika Wennerstrom and Dino J.'s Lou Barlow), and new indie rock royalty (Kiwi Jr., Wednesday). Dinosaur Jr., Marshalls stacked upon Marshalls, treated the crowd to eternity-long fuzz jams heavy on their earliest albums, from "Gargoyle" and their faithful "Just Like Heaven" cover to "The Lung" and "Freak Scene". The next night, Built to Spill also offered a set with plenty of guitar solos and extended intros and codas, respectively bookending the set on the slow-burning "Stop The Show" and eternal "Carry The Zero". As for their (sort-of) cover, they chose The Halo Benders' "Virginia Reel Around the Fountain" and not Heartless Bastards' "The Mountain" since, well, the real thing had played right before them.
Heartless Bastards are not a band you'd normally associate with 90's indie rock, though I wouldn't have expected Built to Spill bassist Melanie Radford to sing Wennerstrom's part so convincingly last time I saw BTS. Wennestrom and Martsch came out with Heartless Bastards on night two for "The Mountain", but I saw where the Texas-via-Ohio rockers fit in with the band lineup even more on other songs. Yes, their brand of blues-rock is unique, not quite punchy, certainly eschewing raw psychedelia for grooves or high and lonesome country. But while Wennerstrom's throaty singing led the hazy "Photograph", the song's instrumental outro with gorgeous guitar work snuggled beside Wednesday and Built to Spill. And the chugging back catalog highlight "Gray" came across almost like a GBV ripper with keyboards.
And then there were the up and comers. Toronto's Kiwi Jr. combined the instrumental concision of GBV with the storytelling of a band like Wednesday. They took from their three very good records, concentrating on their Sub Pop albums Cooler Returns and Chopper in their brief set, contextualizing "Maid Marian's Toast" and "The Sound of Music" (about insurance fraud and Christopher Plummer), easing the crowd into a night of clatter. Wednesday, meanwhile, was the unabashed non-GBV highlight of the entire festival, the band that converted the unfamiliar and justified those of us who have hyped them up. Their quintessential country-gaze was on full display from the moment they queued up the buzz saws of "Hot Rotten Grass Smell". "Chosen to Deserve" was the bonafide ne'er-do-well anthem, the song of the summer for the bad kids, Xandy Chelmis absolutely slaying on pedal steel. Of course, lead vocalist Karly Hartzman's drawl-cum-yodel was the perfect medium to communicate stories of people dying in Planet Fitness parking lots, getting electrocuted by your own house, and toothless men on oxygen tanks smoking cigarettes. But it was "Bull Believer" that absolutely brought the house down, tears in the eyes of people who had never heard the song before. In a rare move on a normally apolitical GBV stage, Hartzman decried the nadirs of the nation, from the return of student loan payments to the policing of Black and Brown and LGBTQ+ bodies. She invited the crowd to scream along in anger as she beckoned "Finish him!" Perhaps that's what even implored Pollard to, out of nowhere between "Twilight Campfire" and "To Keep An Area", declare, "We live in a shitty country...Everything is crooked as fuck!" It was a small moment, perhaps inconsequential, but one that really hammered down for me that after all these years, Pollard's done what he's always done: change.
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