The Fading Captain - a Review of Guided by Voices' Final Show

Last night I found part of Guided By Voices' final concert on demand (there should probably be a trademark there, please do not sue me, unless it makes me famous). In 2004, I tried to see GBV on their "Electrifying Conclusion" tour in Austin, TX, but they canceled at the last second due to a band member's family emergency. We went anyways, and after watching that "concert" on demand, I'm just a little bit glad that the lasting memory I have of GBV live is one from 7 years ago.

That show, by the way, was freaking awesome. I had barely even heard any of GBV's stuff at that point, but luckily good ol' T-Bradley Baker and Indie Rock spokesman Marc Mercer convinced me to go. Robert Pollard was electric - drunk - but electric. It was like watching Robert Plant and Johnny Rotten's anally conceived love-child go to town with a half Persian princess. I even bought a shirt, which I never wore, and ended up giving to Brad. (Funny sidenote - Brad will die in that shirt. Trust me on that one.)

Knowing the tendencies of Bob Pollard and friends, I expected everyone in the band to be fairly wasted for the final concert. Some small part of me was hoping that they would sound amazing, even better than the night I saw them way back during my freshman year of college. Some small part of me thought that they might want to remember their final concert, might want to have some lucidity of the death of an iconic name. Sure, sure, Bob Pollard still does solo stuff, and of course it's not that different, but as I watched Beatle Bob give GBV's final introduction, it felt like an era was somehow ending.

Bob Pollard was shit faced. As he stumbled to the mic before they had played even one song, my heart was both encouraged and yet defeated. If GBV was going to go out, surely there could be no other way than under a tsunami of beer and whiskey - but I knew from the outset that this final show might not live up to the standards of memory.

With each song, Bob got more and more visibly drunk, and for the first time in all the shows I've read about and the first time in all the live recordings I've heard, Bob Pollard was missing notes left and right. He continually interrupted his singing to smile at some random old friend, and shout some slightly intelligible thank you to someone. With each song he clearly had more trouble standing. To even hit half the notes he was forced to close his eyes tight, and focus every last ounce of mental awareness on the notes- and even then, he missed. And despite the fact that GBV didn't gain notoriety until Pollard was well into his 30s, it was the first time I can remember Bob really looking old.

As the concert footage progressed, things got sloppier and sloppier. Both guitarists found themselves hitting the notes with about as much accuracy as Pollard's singing. In fact, only the bassist - the one visibly drinking the most - seemed to be on top of his game.

Watching this somewhat pathetic turn of events, I wasn't really that surprised. I mean, all good things come to an end, and you might as well be drunk as hell when the end comes. But, I was still a little bit sad to see that GBV's death was that ugly. It's the songs that make GBV so great, and they're usually not even that difficult to play. It's a shame they didn't at least try to remember the final set.

I guess that's why they call him the Fading Captain.