Now, my impression explained

So, it's probably time to explain the name of this Substack. It makes sense on the surface, right? It's my current impression of things. It's also the name of one of my favorite songs by my favorite band, Guided by Voices. And for a short while, it was the name of a "catablog” I wrote about the band and its leader, Robert Pollard.

I was inspired in that effort by Matthew Perpetua's "Pop Songs '07-'08," a blog where he promised, "I’ll write about every R.E.M. song, eventually." He did, writing a short capsule about every song from every R.E.M. release. Several other blogs sprung up in its wake, documenting songs by Wilco, Mountain Goats, Radiohead, Pavement, and, in my hands, Guided by Voices. 

Perpetua, who writes one of the longest-standing music blogs, Fluxblog (and now the affiliated Substack of the same name) started in March 2007. By May, there were more than 20 such blogs. The apex of the trend was likely an article in New York magazine where an attempt was made to coin the term "ouevreblog." The term didn't stick because the blogs didn't last long enough to become a thing. Perpetua, to my knowledge, is the only one who completed the task he set for himself, even drawing participation from Michael Stipe toward the end. Then again, he was smart enough to define the terms. R.E.M. issued Accelerate toward the end of his run, and Collapse Into Now after that. But he said he would write about every R.E.M. song in existence when the blog began, and he completed the task.

The problem on my end, as the New York article pointed out, was keeping up with a prolific subject. Under the heading "Most Sisyphean task," it reported on my effort to chronicle every song from Guided by Voices main man Pollard, "the one-man Tin Pan Alley of lo-fi drunken rock. The author notes that Pollard has evidently recorded or performed 1,163 songs already, and we imagine he’s recording new ones faster than My Impression Now can write about them."

That was true. I kept it up for about three years, but finally gave up after writing about 310 songs. Not bad when you consider Perpetua covered all but two R.E.M. albums by writing about 203 songs. I set myself up for failure by picking perhaps the most prolific songwriter in history, adding to the challenge by not limiting myself to his primary band. Despite putting GBV on hiatus for eight years between 2004 and 2012, he was as prolific as ever. Since I threw in the towel on the blog in 2010, Pollard has released 21 albums with Guided by Voices, 8 solo albums, and 23 albums from side projects (visit the Guided by Voices Database if you want to have your mind blown). He has reportedly written as many as 3,000 songs by this point, which means I probably wouldn't live long enough to ever write about them all even if I had never stopped. I keep up as a fan and listener, which is taxing enough on my bank account, but to have something meaningful to say about everything is just too much.

The sad thing is that, thanks to a snafu with my web host, that blog is gone. I have all of the write-ups, but short of me recreating it elsewhere, the only way to read it all is to be me sitting in front of my desktop. Maybe I should at least complete the classic era GBV albums for a book project (the idea has worked in the past.) In the meantime, I paid homage to that quixotic quest by salvaging the name for this Substack. It's also a way to tip my hat to one of the many writing-related projects I have undertaken over the years. Others will resurface here in the future, I'm sure.

As for the song itself, I can't even share a post about it because I never wrote one, foolishly thinking it would be the capstone to that project. Pollard outlasted me -- and given the amount of great music he has made in the past 13 years, I'm grateful -- so all I can offer is the song itself.

---

Ian Hunter: When I’m through I’ll notify you

With so many new albums released every week, I often listen for a reason to dismiss something as much as I do seeking something to love. It's a cynical outlook, but the sooner I can confirm suspicions and move on, the more time I have for something worthwhile. Sometimes, however, the moment I set aside to skip through a sure dud can stretch into an afternoon filled with surprise and delight.

Such was my Saturday spent with Ian Hunter's new LP, Defiance Part I (on Sun Records!). Hunter earned a spin because of his long career of making music with Mott the Hoople, a band that brings to mind Cinderella at the ball, the downtrodden lass for whom everything goes according to plan at the right time, only to have the whole thing go the way of the pumpkin at closing time. That magic moment was the David Bowie-penned "All the Young Dudes," which should have lifted the band to something at least approximating the fame of, say, Foghat. Instead, the prince didn’t return and Cinderella went back to scrubbing floors. The band stumbled along -- making good music that few people heard -- before Hunter exited.

Hunter has been a solo artist for five decades since Mott’s demise, rarely slipping the shadow of his former band. He has made plenty of good music along the way, but there was little expectation that the 84 year old was going to make something worth more than a courtesy spin in 2023. Add the fact that this album features "all-star" guests on every track -- an equation that rarely (never?) leads to anything good -- and the forecast was dim.

By the second track, "Bed of Roses," I was hooked, and I'm on my second spin through the album as I write this (OK, my second stream, but you get what I'm saying). No, it doesn't hurt to have Ringo Starr's steady beat driving the song, or Mike Campbell's signature slide guitar sweetening the hook, but it is Hunter's warm rasp and the insistent groove that draw the ear and keep it there.

All-star lineups are gimmicks, and in this case if it leads someone to listen, then it’s a gimmick worth pursuing. However, the presence of big names is incidental. You might pick this up because you are a fan of Jeff Tweedy or Taylor Hawkins or Joe Elliott, but you will find no big star turns, no stilted duets. Todd Rundgren's backing vocals are hard to miss on "Don't Tread On Me," and that must be Billy Gibbons' guitar chugging through "Kiss N' Make Up," but otherwise you would be hard pressed to pick out any of the guests. If I told you he was backed by NRBQ (and you knew what that means) you wouldn’t argue.

Instead, you get a solid rock album. It might not stand the test of time, but it’s sure what I want to hear right now.

---

When past is present

I have read many pulp novels of the '30s, '40s and '50s, and each time I must recalibrate my mind to the era, to sink into a world when things that might seem quaint or unrealistic today were perfectly normal. Case in point: while doing research in Special Collections at the University of Iowa Main Library recently, I came across this item from the May 28, 1920, Des Moines News. It was a front-page blurb, and I could imagine James M. Cain or Dorothy B. Hughes seeing this and knitting together a noirish tale around it.

Then again, given the laws working their way through state legislatures that would attempt to ban women from crossing state lines to receive reproductive health care, or the plight of women married to awful right-wing podcasters, perhaps this isn’t as anachronistic as it might first appear.

Anyone interested in Mary’s tale can find more thanks to a Lucas County history blog, that provides more detail on her ill-fated trip to Des Moines. The Des Moines Register had a more thorough story that day, worth it for the lede alone: “It's a long way from Tipperary, Ia., to the bright lights of Locust street.”