By Jim Dingus
Can GbV make the jump from 4-/8-track woodshedding to a 24-track studio and still deliver? Those familiar with the band are well aware of their ties to the "low-fi" movement. Besides Bob Pollard's talent as a prolific tunesmith of power-pop-rock gems, much of GbV's attraction was the way his ideas were filtered through a hazy fog of tape hiss/static, stale beer, and sheer panache.
The airy, atmospheric production and fleshed-out song structures are the major deviations from the past. This record reeks of space-gone is the musty aura of the basement and compressed 4-track tones. Ample gaps between the instrumentation and the vocals give these songs room to breath, allowing the rhythms to punch home some of the dynamics once surrendered to the do-it-yourself aesthetic. The wider sound also sheds a darker light on the band.
The record is transitional in they way all GbV records have been. Not unlike the Fall in their heyday, Pollard and crew creep slowly towards success, well aware of the sacrifice that comes with a full commercial assault. They take leisurely strolls into the future, not terrified sprints from the past; pushing the music forward while remembering how they got there. GbV has an uncanny talent for reaching into its bag of hooks to create hundreds of great rock moments, but that inclination has always been tempered with an experimental quirkiness (Chrome comes to mind). Many of those eccentricities have been scraped in favor of the streamlined attack featured here.
"The Official Ironman Rally Fight Song" is the album's flagship single and sticks out as such; a great medium-tempo, moody piece. Other stand-outs include the soaring, "Man Called Aerodynamics"; the Wire-ish, "Cut-Out Witch"; an epical, big-guitar rework of the once demure, "Don't Stop Now"; "Office of Hearts"; and "Lord of Overstock", a great Chilton "September Gurls" cop. "Look at Them" incorporates a meandering, oscillating drone under a fuzzy, Kink-ish guitar chop to great effect as Pollard rams the staccato lines down our throats. As with previous efforts, the singles plug like puzzle pieces into the record's overall structure. A bonus EP of six songs is also included. These also sound transitional in nature, but from an earlier period. "Big Boring Wedding" and "Redmen and Their Wives" lead the pack, but all six work well here.
With its enhanced production, trademark hooks, and darker, druggy vibe, UTBUTS rivals some of the band's best work (i.e., Bee Thousand, Propeller, Alien Lanes). It no doubt will have the underground rock press frothing at the mouth; but will the trendy radio schmalternatives once again overlook the real thing in favor of bands who crank out mountains of tepid crap like Live or The Presidents of the United States? Unfortunately, my guess is "yes."