Mag Earwhig!

The first two tracks on Mag Earwhig seem intent on clearing the record while updating us on Pollard's personal musings. "Can't Hear The Revolution," the first cut, somewhat distances Pollard and the so-called "lo-fi" movement, a nebulous assemblage of DIY homeboys with four-track recorders that he certainly helped to establish credibly (and will never completely abandon). "Sad If I Lost It" is a song about music making as both obsession and salvation, which explains why Pollard puts out as much of his endless catalog of tunes as possible; instead of waiting out the peaks and valleys of a long career, he'd rather unload the whole bundle while his creative engine is still in racing fettle.

Many of the GBV faithful are up in arms over Pollard's decision to drop his long-standing backup band, which included Toby Sprout and Mitch Mitchell on guitars as well as drummer Kevin Fennell. While he continues to record and compose with Sprout (and his brother Jim Pollard), Cleveland's Cobra Verde have stepped in as Pollard's new rock & roll wrecking crew. The additional muscle and skill these fellows wield is evident on big anthem rockers like "I Am A Tree" (written by Cobra Verde guitarist Doug Gillard), "Not Behind the Fighter Jets" and "Jane of the Waking Universe." These three numbers along with the first single "Bulldog Skin" (a song about his love of British pop music) indicate Pollard's return to his '70s trash and treasure, incorporating the can't-miss, ringing power-pop coils of catchy ancestors like Badfinger, Big Star, Dwight Twilley, and the Raspberries. The best example of Cobra Verde's noisy eclecticism bonding with Pollard's pop horse sense comes on the 1:23-minute gem, "Mute Superstar," which starts out like an early Wire guitar cruncher, then opens a sunny window for some Beatles psychedelia. He gathers those lovely acoustic ballad bits abundantly about him, the finest being "I Am Produced," a quickie about putting your life on record, and the wistfully McCartney-like "Now To War." In the end, most critics judge any new Guided by Voices product by its ratio of heavenly pop to Pollard's noodly abstractions, and so Mag Earwhig keeps up with past masterpieces like Bee Thousand and Propellor. Yet there is more afoot here than ear candy, as Pollard breaks in a talented new supporting cast while traveling back to the clarity of times when popular music didn't suck. The present musical climate dominated by unbearably bland bands and useless electronica, Pollard's journey through the past is a blast of forward thinking. --John Chandler