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March 09, 2008
NBTEMMH: Southern California
In the mid ‘90s, Guided by Voices released two killer tributes to drunken, low-fi slackery, Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, and did so within one, frantic, seven month stretch. Thanks to this pair of monster albums (which combine to span 48 songs in a little over one-and-a-quarter hours), GbV earned a lifetime of indie-critical sheen, and no matter how many craptastic “stand-up” albums frontman Robert Pollard releases, it doesn't seem to be rubbing off.
Like Isolation Drills, the Trojans basketball team is not its named-institution’s money maker. They’ve never been much of a national competitor; in fact, their last conference championship happened way back in 1961. (Comparatively, the football team has won seven national titles since then.) But let’s cut them some slack: it’s hard being the chubby, red-headed sibling to your gorgeous, beach blonde older brother, especially when your most notable baller alumni is a chubby red-head who goes by the nickname “Veal.”
Scabs
Not only is Isolation Drills a fit genetically, it’s also pretty much the Trojan’s entire offensive philosophy. As a team, USC averages a miserly 12.6 assists per game, which will likely be the lowest of this year’s tournament. Point guard Daniel Hackett leads the team with a paltry 3.4 APG, good for 150th or so in the nation.
To be fair, these two have star power in their own right. Taj Gibson and super-frosh O. J. Mayo both have NBA talent, while “Chasing Heather Crazy” and “Glad Girls” stand alongside the very best of GbV’s canon. It’s just that they’ll always be standing in the shadows of greatness.
Posted by Randall Monty at March 9, 2008 04:30 PM
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Comments
Any relatively sincere discussion of GBV will catch my attention, but I am left scratching my head in the same way as I was last week after I read Keith's past columns. I just can't seem to get the hang of these sports-related album and band metaphors. Even if I were, say, the A&R guy charged with promoting REM's Monster who was once the bat boy for the Seattle Pilots, I would be no closer to seeing the world in this rarified way. (Doesn't that metaphor kind of evoke Butthole Surfers' Electriclarryland?)
Posted by: david at March 10, 2008 09:56 AM
