GBV R.I.P.

The Electrifying Conclusion

This was it, the last two shows and I had tickets that I got in July, standing in line in front of the Metro for a couple of hours. Now it’s here and so am I. Mary was going to go, got sick so Joe got the extra ticket. It was fun to make a few calls offering the ticket to people, a nice way to say hello after nothing for a long time. I don’t live in Chicago anymore so “Hi”, remember me, do you want a ticket to a show that has been sold out for months?
Joe got back to me first so we met in front at 9. We got in and went stage left after Joe bought me a beer, formalities, formalities. It was open up to the speaker stack right off of the stage and then we began out snake inward which went pretty well, we got a lot closer than I thought we would. Now we wait and look.
The Metro was full and lively, the crowd was pumped and everyone was cordial. I wasn’t sure how to act, I mean the last show, shouldn’t there be some pomp and circumstance? Tobin Sprout came out after out wait. He provided some pomp by saying:
“Before I start I want to say that being up here with these people tonight is one of my true pleasures in life”, I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it. Properly pomped, the rock began and did not stop for hours. Tobin lives where I grew up, so I am happy to know what he looks like so when I am there I can corner him, (I mean hopefully run into him), to discuss how cool it is that we have lived in the same place at one time. It’s that kind of place, or used to be I guess that’s why I left. There is a lot of water there. The last time I was up there I was in a toy store and asked about him and where his gallery was (he paints well).
“You mean Tobey?” after I asked about Tobin Sprout.
“His wife works across the street, you could go ask her where he is, his gallery has been closed for awhile”
Yeah right just go talk to Tobin Sprouts wife about how cool it is that we all live in the same place, or that I used to live here, I don’t think so!
I was with my mother, brother and his girlfriend and on our way out of town we stopped by a gallery that I thought might have his stuff. California brother didn’t want to stop. I put my foot down and we all benefited. To get back to the story I will just say that Tobin Sprout paints beautiful paintings and if you get a chance see them and if you have an inkling, make a chance to see them. I liked them a lot. Now back to the Metro. I believe that he crafts music as well as he paints and he was a great choice to kick off these two nights. After hearing him and his band I think that I can safely say that the Guided By Voices that I know would not exist without Tobin Sprout. The song that I really remember in his 45 minute or so set was Indian Ink, and some more songs off of the one record of his that I have that is now in Gina’s barn so I can’t even refer to it.
He ended and there was only one other band on the bill tonight. There was a big screen on the stage and the entertainment continued with a slide show of the band through the years interfaced with mountain scenes. I later heard that the whole thing had been put together by a Mortician from Dayton. Think of a funeral and the sparkiest music and then the mountain scenes. The screen was removed and this man who we would all learn was Beatle Bob came out. He had a Beatles cut, looked out of that era and introduced as he called it, the best pop band in the last twenty years, Guided By Voices.
They came out. I am never satisfied until I see Bob, I’m sure I’m not the only one, and there he was, blue striped button down and all. This was not a crowd that needed to get pumped up, this was a group that came ready and prepared for what was about to happen, but now we just didn’t know how it would begin and the boys in the band didn’t seem to know how to start it off either. We all knew that this was to be it, but like a man on a ledge or Frodo before he got in the boat by himself, even with a woods full of orcs behind him there was a moment, a minute for reflection and respect for what was about to happen and then the plunge. Suddenly we were deep in the water and for now there was still no bottom. Like Samwise Gamgee with Frodo we climbed into the boat with Bob and he took us through a tour of the GBV collection and preceded to play a show that got him drunk off his ass and me giggling as I walked out the door, four hours later. Did I mention that there was a bar on the stage, along with the usual cooler of Miller Lites? Go to the web site to find the set list, I couldn’t begin to tell you the first song, or any order whatsoever that first night, but I can tell you that there was a lot of drinking on stage and a lot of bitterness.
“Who is this Fancis Ferdanand? He sucks.” Bob was a little bitter about others success and he admitted it.
“You want to know why he sucks? Because he sold more records than me.” He took some time to let us know that the Shins suck, as do the Flaming Lips, Pavement, and the Clash. He took some time to pick apart Rock the Casbah in particular. This was one long rant in between some great songs, over three hours worth. Doug Gillard kept it together for the night, as he usually does, the strong silent one in the band and then the two yahoos on the left side of the stage that are more like Bob’s drinking buddies. There were a lot of guests that came out, although Steve Albini did not come out after Bob said he was. I got excited, but then it didn’t happen. Many of the people that played in earlier configurations of the band came out. John Thrasher, Joe (?) McPherson, to name two and played on a song a piece.
By about the second song the floor was soaked with beer and if you have been to a sold out show there you know there is no room to move at all. There was a solidarity on the floor though that you could only know if you have been to see a band that you love with a bunch of other people who also love them in this small room. Of course there were people that needed to get in front and there is no room for them to get thru but they squeak by and in Fall of my concert going life I have learned that I am better off just letting them go, why engage, enjoy the good parts.
It was hard to get a footing, so my dancing was a little limited, and I told the woman behind me to give me a good shove if I got too much in her face. She thought I was kidding. It would be kind of pointless for me to try and break down the music of the show. Either you like it or you don’t. If you like Guided by Voices they played a kick ass drunk show and they probably played that one song you wanted to hear, you should always go to a show with more than one, and with this band that is not a problem. Bob went on about how he had written 8000 songs and that most bands suck and he was 47.
“Put me to bed,” he said towards the end of night one, “I’m 47.)
He had at least one great night left.

I went earlier on night two because I wanted to be closer than the first night. The show started at 10, the Go were opening up tonight and I got there at 9. I got good placement, about 3 deep in the dead center. Sweet. There were not as many people there as I thought and only one hard hat as a costume. The night before some dudes had made up baseball jersey’s that said Robot Boy in the name. I had all these ideas about costumes, but I didn’t do it, so why talk about it?
I soon discovered why no one was standing close to the area where I had snaked in. There was a talker right there and he would not shut up.
“I live in the B now, (Boston)”, I heard him say, “but I was 612 for four years, so I’ve got to represent.” (612 is a Minneapolis area code, for phones). This is just one sentence of the three thousand he uttered in the one hour before the show started. I didn’t mind that but he was also a pusher, a guy that doesn’t seem to recognize that his back is right on you and is pushing you and you want to punch him but then you would be asked to leave and miss Guided By Voices last show. Because I am a nice guy and had a grandpa that sold insurance in a rural area I was soon in the midst of this group that consisted of others from Minnesota. They were arguing about the difference between Minneapolis and St. Paul, how people from St. Paul say they are from Minneapolis when they are out of town, so somebody in the group got called out that way.
“If you guys had any guts you would live in Duluth,” I said to them, successfully pushing myself right out of the conversation, but not before some football banter regarding the classic Packer/Viking rivalry. (I hope it doesn’t bite me on the ass on Sunday).
All around me people were telling each other where they were from, and it sounded like from all over. When I tried to help a guy take a picture in a biking cap he said, “Cheers mate” very exotic.

The Go came out and did their thing, which was fun, I had never heard them before, but I would see them again. It is kind of hard to remember what they were like because quite honestly the next band that came out and played as if it would be the last time that would ever play together, and this is already a band that doesn’t hold back, one that drinks so much that in some circles they are known as “Guided By Beer”, a band that will play 50- 60 songs in a night and not even think about it.
“The old homerun record was 60, you can play 60 songs in a night, the new record is 78, by Barry Bonds, that is a little harder.” Bob said early on, so you can understand when I say that it is hard to remember what the Go did, but I don’t have anything bad to say about them.
We got the slide show again, the guys packed up the screen and then they came out and stayed out there for a long time. Did I mention that there were two 5 gallon buckets on the stage, one marked Piss and another marked puke? It is sad to report that one of them was used and that is all I really want to say about it. Doug had a really nice jacket on top hat on, but no one else was really dressed up. Bob had a button down and then the other guys looked like guys. I don’t know what they started with but we got a Tractor Rape Chain, I am a Tree, Pendulum, Cheyenne, Pink Gun, Take me to the Lake, I am a Scientist, Postal Blowfish, I could go on and on. All around me big dudes started showing up and before I knew it I was bouncing off of them and shoving them so they wouldn’t crush me, spinning, laughing, going limp and getting worked over, holding people up, catching people, getting caught, getting picked up after landing on a big dude, pretty much having the time of my life, soaked with beer and sweat and listening to a band that I loved play like it was their last time, because it was and they were up for it. I found myself shouting lyrics to songs I knew arm in arm with people who I didn’t know, many people that I didn’t know, and smiling at so many people and even the stiffs who don’t dance they just seemed to have to laugh at the circle of energy that filled the middle of the Metro floor. Yeah there was a balloon drop, Matador bought the band a magnum or is it a belarthodw of champagne that Bob opened and everyone helped pour it and distribute it to the crowd.
Yes Bob got up and said that he had made up with everyone, that everyone he had talked bad about he was now cool with.
“I made up with Lou Barlow in LA, that is how international I have become, I made up with Lou Barlow in LA. I’m cool with Jim Deregotis now, he’s here right, we’re cool, I’m cool with everyone”. And he was. No smack talking tonight, although he did introduce a guest artist as someone who used to fuck Kim Deal.
“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, that was wrong”, he said arm in arm with the would be fucker. My favorite guest for the two nights was John MacPhearson, a drummer who did a stint in the band and went on to play with the Breeders. He kicked ass, a great drummer and I think I know why the early 90’s may have been GBV’s golden time. Not that I am any true conisuer, but this guy hit them hard and complimented everything else that was going on. It must be hard to be in that band where you have a man claiming to be a genius walking around. I don’t know if this was before or after he put the puke bucket on his head. Or if that happened first or the maroon blazer getting thrown on stage during Sad if I Lost It, which he put on. Tobin Sprout came out and played some numbers, I don’t know which ones, I was too busy holding up this kid in a yellow shirt who all night was leaning on everyone to stay up. He was in a daze the whole time, but a song would become familiar and he would pitch and roll to a new place. When the Go left the stage it started to get really crowded and all of a sudden there was this blonde guy about a head taller than me with his elbow in my face. I was still smiling but soon was accused of pushing him, really dicky stuff, but I had been standing in this spot for two hours and I liked it. Pretty soon this guy was pulling my hair up, styling it, so I tried to tickle him, he said he wasn’t ticklish and then his friends were there and they said they were from Dayton.
I asked the guy playing with my hair where he was from, (all the while knowing that anywhere else I could have fought him legally at this point, but being where we were and the fact that I’m a peacenik superceded this), he said Portland, Oregon and that Bob Pollard was his dad. I asked him why he wasn’t back stage, and he said he liked it out here better. This fact I have not been able to confirm, I couldn’t find any info about his family, but hear this pushy guy: You acted like an asshole, I don’t care who you are, and you had nothing but your happiness in mind and did not even consider others. My cool head prevailed, but your actions could have ruined both of our nights. Thank you for letting me air this out. In the end it didn’t really matter because once the music started the crowd was a surge and all you could do was get in the middle of it or head back to the dudes with their girlfriends in their arms like cougars with their kittens. Not that there weren’t women all into the show having the times of their lives swirling around close to the stage, but if you have been to shows you know exactly who I am talking about, the couple who are their having their own good time together, right on the border of the swirl. It is very nice to have that safe zone to go to.

I met a non-dairy creamer explicity laid out like a fruitcake
With a wet spot bigger then a great lake.
Took me the new church and babtized me with salt
She told me Liquor!
I am a new man
Hot Freaks!

If you don’t like that, you don’t like Guided by Voices. There is fan base whose loyalty rivals the Grateful Dead, not nearly as large, but the solidarity in that room was on greater display than any hippy jam band thing I have gone to. Not a cut on the hippies, I love them and will continue to go have a great time at hippy shows, but maybe because this crowd is smaller they feel the need to really cling to it, to display it more freely. Maybe because it is newer and not reflective of another era, a modern musical movement one for this generation, or for this part of the generation that still likes Rock and Roll just because it is Rock and Roll, and love the story of this former teacher who like music, liked writing songs and loved the fact that he just got out and threw it down for people for 21 years not for fame or for money, which he would and has taken, but for fun. That is over now. That old stand by, a show where you could go and you knew that you were at least going to have a pretty good time, and hear at least three songs that you really love, I mean songs that every time you hear them you are going to pause and smile. More than likely you would go and if you wanted to, have the time of your life because Bob Pollard was.
At about 2am Bob cracked open yet another miller lite, poured some in the out reached cups of those front and center and said:
“You think this show is about over? We’re going to play for another hour.” And they did. They left, played an encore that went on for awhile and then came back for the last set. Bob called it and told us that he had been thinking about it.
“This is it kids, the last Guided By Voices set.”
With that they started into Salty Salute, then Postal Blowfish, then I think Motor Away, it is hard to remember, but finally ended with Don’t Stop Now, the last song. I was hoping a set list would be posted on the web somewhere, but no luck so I have to rely on my memory, which isn’t so good, but I have given what I can. They walked off stage and that was and is it. I went home and burned the shirt I had worn two nights in a row and now write this, just a taste for you, it’s rambling and disjointed, but honest, what do you want? It’s Guided by Voices.