After a substantial delay caused by computer issues the Robert Pollard podcast is finally ready for your listening pleasure. This particular podcast features between track commentary from yours truly. My hope is that people who have previously written off Bob's post-GBV solo career will find something to love and will investigate some of his newer material further. Feedback on how future podcasts could be improved is always appreciated.
Robert Pollard Solo (6-5-11) by DecrepitTapes3
Coming up next: The ADD Mix: A mega mix of songs that are less than a minute in length. This one will come much sooner, I promise!
PS check the comments section for an MP3 download of this podcast.
Way too much is made these days of looking back, memory, social network fantasias. What a bummer, cause reality s a bad experience and 2012 is on deck; we deserve whatever we get. Evolve or erode, dudes. LA visigoths Robedoor slip into another sinkhole of voidist shadow-rock with Pacific Drift, three new tracks recorded across the last greylight winter. The A side stirs into a jazzy apocalypto depression with flute-keys and an overdriven OM groove that spirals in a web of distortion before drifting out to sea/silence. The flip finds a pair of deeply mutated RBDR genetic codes, one a mantric death-punk protest song cloaked in smoke and speed, the other a 3 AM slow-motion soul implosion set to upright piano, descending bass, tear garden guitar, and acid rain. The coast is a ghost, the city seethes.
The closest thing to a lo-fi national anthem you're ever likely to hear, Bill Callahan succinctly distills the sum totality of the home-recording aesthetic into one side of a 7" single with "A Hit." Singing, "It's not gonna be a hit, so why bother with it?/Just lay it down and forget about it," he captures both the limitless creative freedom and severely limited commercial prospects that shape the fortunes of the four-track recluse. Complete with trudging, crunchy melody suggesting a T. Rex B-side played back through a blown amp, like the very best of Callahan's songs it's both hilarious and heartbreaking, universal and self-obsessed all at the same time. The flip, "Wine-Stained Lips," only suffers by comparison, but judged on its own terms it's a lovely, if fractured, acoustic meditation on that most elusive of moments -- the night before.
-Jason Ankeny, All Music