Standing Before King Everything

This was of course the kind of thing I would give my life for: Two nights in a row of Guided by Voices’ classic lineup in the two best places on Earth.

The first night at Los Angeles’ Wiltern Theater was a special occasion as I was joined not only by fellow GbV devotee Paul Igaz, but by two newcomer friends of ours (including a true Pollard). After a number of canned American macrobrews we were ready to head down the street for the show. Doors were at 7 that night and we arrived at almost 8:30. Missing Times New Viking was an unfortunate but doable sacrifice, but what was surprising was that had the schedule been followed to the T we would have missed some of Guided by Voices set. They started not much later, but as Uncle Bob and company entered the stage with “A Salty Salute,” we learned where out lateness was a mistake. Paul and my attempts to get closer were met with unpermissive security forced us into be the most enthusiastic fans in the middle sea of Hollywood poseurs.

However, as Mitch led us into “Shocker in Gloomtown,” the reassurance that we would have another chance the next night was enough to let it go. The band continued to lead us through all the classics from the obvious “I am A Scientist,” “Motor Away”) to the obscure (“My Impression Now”) with fantastic showmanship not only from the Fading Captain himself, but equally from cohorts Mitch Mitchell and the fantastically dressed Greg Demos. Staging hit its peak with the Tobin Sprout cuts – particularly the ones in which he was joined by Pollard and “Cut-Out Witch” (one of the few Under the Bushes Under the Sttars cuts played.) Bob hit us with all his classic moves – the windmills, the kicks, the hops, yet kept them in check to give his band the credit they deserve.

At San Francisco’s Warfield even more friends joined me after an invigorating drive across the Bay Bridge. This time Times New Viking confirmed their importance as one of today’s best bands leaving me, unlike the rest of my crowd speechless. They evoked not only their all-encompassing home state, but some of the cosmic power of Young Marble Giants with Beth Murphy reminding me of an awkward Chrissie Hynde and Adam Elliott as the greatest singer songwriter to sit behind a drum kit.

Then it really started. Was this show better than the one in LA? It is impossible to say, but what I can say is this: Being much closer to the stage surrounded by people who know every word to “Gleemer (the Deeds of Fertile Jim),” “Smothered in Hugs,” and the symphonic high of “Don’t Stop Now” one can only think of commercials for Christian rock compilations for comparison. You know, the ones where the massive audience throws their collective hands towards the sky in transcendent ecstasy. It was like that, but with a lot more motion in the body, a bit hard to stay on your feet, well, and beer, obviously. Likewise the new proximity to the stage allowed me to finally witness the legendary “crazy Kevin face” which was all its cracked up to be possibly due to, or perhaps despite the fact that Mr. Fennell had aged particularly well in spite of the worst substance abuse.

While the songs were the same, some things differed between the shows. Perhaps this was only due to the location of my party, but the SF show was much more male-dominated, yet despite all your outsider sneering had no apparent gay element to it. Obviously Guided by Voices, right? On a similar note, The Los Angeles show featured a long string of banter between Pollard and Mitchell on the topic of Los Angeles pussy, which I am sure was enjoyed by all single members of the group particularly Mitch. The Los Angeles show also featured a great rush to the stage on “Motor Away,” in which at least 30 people joined the band onstage to everyone’s delight. This was not repeated, but neither was Pollard’s improvisation on “Lethargy” which reminded us that no one in the band gives a fuck, so why should we?

With all the songs intact the band changed it up a little bit by switching from two encores into three, but both ended the same way. First a sing-along epic rendition of “Johnny Appleseed,” and the closer to end all closers “Weedking” in which Uncle Bob sends his fans home early with the right idea I am sure almost all of us followed.

That’s right you will be home early to give your own neighborhood a taste of the Monument Club where you can watch your newly initiated friends transform from child to Official Iron (Wo)Men. That’s all you’re getting. Gotta leave some surprises for you suckers on the East Coast.

But here’s one they certainly won’t be swinging in Boston: Mitch has maintained the cigarette with unfathomable constancy and at many point, so does Pollard.