Rock and roll makes me want to puke.

Guided By Voices

The title of this entry comes directly from the slurred lips of Bob Pollard from their last show in Newport, Kentucky—which the city, might I add, has declared October 22nd as Guided By Voices Day. (Though I can find no record of this).

Now I’ve seen this cult band that hails from Dayton Ohio a time or two. Many of those times I thought I was watching rock history being made. Once, up in Columbus, I thought I witnessed the demise of the group as they pissy fitted barbs across the stage in-between chugs from bottles of liquor and beer.

I’ve seen them, I forget which incarnation, perform rousing sets of their gusto tinged rock with lyrics that made you realize that this was not the Stones. This was something special.

And now I’ve seen them tired, bordering on geriatric, going through the motions on their farewell tour that maybe, just maybe, should never have happened.

I’d say that with more conviction, but I think the shit-faced, forty-something air guitarists in the audience needed closure—hollering along with every word and squinted eyes as they waved index fingers at their fading rock god, fiercely, to the beat.