Yes, get “Bee Thousand” and “Alien Lanes” and enjoy the non-stop pop rock assault. (I am one of those curmudgeons who thinks everything went downhill after “Alien Lanes”)
But then go rent the GBV documentary, “Watch Me Jumpstart.” This video drastically altered my opinion of Robert Pollard, and not necessarily for the best. Neither genius or whackjob, Pollard comes off as just a highly creative (and energetic) individual who tends to think very. very highly of himself. Not with an obvious pomposity, but with more of a subtle, “every story I tell is incredibly interesting, and words fall from my lips like so much spun gold.” He’s got no inner filter, he can’t separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. I can’t imagine having to be stuck in a tour van for months on end with the guy - he’s the spitting image of a number of annoying-yet-talented musicians I’ve known (and no, I’ve never met Pollard, although I could tell you some stories about that prissy prick Calvin Johnon from K Records…)
He’s also got Robyn Hitchcock Syndrome, which manifests itself as an incredible love of true musical whackjobs and/or geniuses (e.g., Syd Barrett, Arther Lee, Peter Gabriel [Pollard is supposedly a huge prog-rock fan, including, I think, early Genesis]) combined with disturblingly self-conscious desire to emulate said artists. In other words, he’s just trying too damn hard to be weird.
The end came when GBV stopped being just a bunch of friends hanging out, drinking beer, and making a rocking mess (if it ever truely was so) and became just an anonomous vehicle for Pollard’s rock-star dreams (two words: Cobra Verde).
Rent “Watch Me Jumpstart” and bask in the irony of the band camraderie documented in a film which ultimately captures the final moments of said band’s existence (uh, if that make sense). For some fans, the experience is akin to watching one of those “don’t drink and drive” advertisements in which the viewer is shown thirty seconds of birthday-party/national-holiday/wedding/etc home movie footage, followed by a disclaimer e.g., “Timmy was killed by a drunk driver on May 2, 1998.” Here we are, enjoying the behind-the-scenes pallin’ around with Sprout, Greer, Mitchell, etc, and - bam! - here comes the video for “Bulldog Skin.” That sad, hollow feeling comes over you: “I can’t believe they’re dead! They were so full of life!”
Oh, and pick up a copy of the post-GBV Tobin Sprout (you’ll appreciate him after “B1000” and “Alien Lanes”) CD, “Carnival Boy.” It’s worth it for “The Last Man Well Known to Kingpin” alone.
Thanks for posting this thread which then allowed me to ramble on like this…