01 Devil Between My Toes

Introduction

When I started this journey at the beginning of 2024, this was one of only two GBV albums that I knew well back-to-front well. This was because - as I mentioned in the introduction - during lockdown I joined a Facebook 'album-a-week' group, but only managed to keep up for a fortnight. 

As I also mentioned in the first post, I'm deliberately avoiding the kind of research that I did for my You Must Get The All Fall blog in order to keep this as a personal reaction kind of thing. So, for example, I have no idea as to why the cover is dominated by a blurry chicken.

The Album

Climbing trees, exploring the woods

The first important thing to note is that this album contains a trio of brilliant, irrepressibly catchy pop songs, although each achieves this status in a slightly different way. (For future reference, it may be worth pointing out that I don't mean anything disparaging by the word 'pop': the term has a multitude of meanings, but I tend to use it in an entirely non-pejorative 'so well-constructed and accessible that any "alternative" elements are no barrier to those who prefer their songs to be mainstream and unchallenging' sort of way.)

The pick of the bunch is 'Hey Hey, Spaceman', a deliciously hazy burst of psych-pop framed around a fuzzy, spindly guitar line. There's a childish, almost nursery rhyme-like glee to the melody of the verse, which is in keeping with the lyric, which seems to have a 'pre-adolescent boys club meeting in the treehouse after school' kind of vibe. It puts me in mind of one of those Stephen King novels where a bunch of 10-11 year old lads bond through climbing trees, exploring the woods, etc. (the 'awkward stage.') Pollard would have been this age during the Space Race, hence, I guess, the references to the titluar character, 'blasting off' and 'the rocket age.' It's drenched in nostalgia - 'the carefree world of opportunity'; 'we'll show our faith in camaraderie' - but in a clear-eyed, never maudlin manner.

 'Hank's Little Fingers' is a bit more meditative, and has a touch of country about it, but has an equally memorable and hooky melody. The lyric is not as easily interpreted. The small-handed Hank in question seems to be a guitarist and/or drummer ('pulling on the fibres within / hammer box and strum'), and there's some Native American imagery thrown in, but whilst I know who the 'mountain men' were (I was a History teacher for 20 years, and used to teach a GCSE unit on the American West), I'm not entirely clear as to why I need to avoid patronising them.

Album closer 'Captain's Dead' is more assertive than the other two, but is no less catchy. It's a fuzzed-up blast of dreamy garage rock that bounces between the Byrds, early Lemonheads and shoegazy stuff like Ride. It's lyric is more on the abstract side, with vaguely dystopian allusions: 'the war machine has fled'; 'a pull of the lever and nothing's forever / we'll ride to the heart of the sun.'

A bit of hesitant intimacy

The second important thing to note is that this album's Achilles heel is the smattering of inconsequential instrumentals. Now, I have nothing at all against instrumentals. In fact, a large part of my music collection is made of such stuff: post-rock, jazz (has to be from 1969-74 for me, but that's another story...) and electronica, mainly; I also listen to a lot of psych/prog/blues-rock which is 80-90% vocal-free. So basically, I've no axe to grind with the notion of having a few instrumentals here and there... 

The problem here is that the five instrumentals here add little of value. 'Crux' has a mildly engaging surf-rock guitar line and a spot of energetic thrash, but never really goes anywhere. '3 Year Old Man' is vaguely atmospheric but fades out before having left much of an impression. 'Bread Alone' has a bit of hesitant intimacy about it, but little else. 'A Proud And Booming Industry' is just a forgettable snippet of a cast-off idea. 'Artboat' is the weakest of the bunch. Like many an amateur guitarist with a couple of effects pedals, I noodled about with recording myself once the technology to do so became easily available: my efforts were self-indulgent and unimaginative, but no worse than this.

Old age, death and faith

The third major element to deal with is the REM factor. I am aware that the comparison has been made frequently, and it's certainly true that some of the songs on Devil have more than a passing resemblance to the work of Stipe & co. The album was released in the same year as Document, but the trio of tracks that seem the most REM-influenced more hark back to the sound of the Chronic Town EP, released five years earlier.

Album opener 'Old Battery' features that tight, controlled strumming characteristic of Pete Buck. It's a fairly minimal, opaque lyric, possibly about old age, death and faith ('With your crucifix / you think it's fixed / and yet you / die hard'). It's followed by 'Discussing Wallace Chambers' which is musically on the same lines, but has a more thunderous feel. The bridge ('you walk into the room') is the most REM-like section. Despite my (evidently quite lax) 'no research' rule, I discovered via Google that Mr Chambers is an American footballer, and that Broderick Lewis (referenced in the lyric) is a basketball player - two sports that I know next to nothing about. 'No-neck savage' feels like a harsh comment, but I don't have sufficent contextual knowledge to know how ironic the intent is. 'The Tumblers' is REM-like in terms of both the relentless arpeggio and the dreamy, mumbled vocal, which delivers a pleasingly nebulous lyric: 'House pet chasing birds / across the earth / big ground fading now.'

These three songs are undoubtedly a little derivative, but are easily strong enough to stand on their own two feet.

A jagged collision

Which leaves us with three songs... 

'Cyclops' plays around - although not at any great length - with the idea that one-guy might be lacking in depth perception ('with one eye only, it gets so hard'). As someone who has one eye much weaker than the other and as a result frequently knocks wine glasses over, I can empathise. It's hauntingly melancholy, and rather touching.

'A Portrait Destroyed By Fire' is a bit of an outlier here: not only is it twice as long as nearly every other track, it's also far more abrasive. The instrumental introduction which takes up the first half, is a jagged collision of prog and post-punk; various fractured guitar parts circle each other warily, creating a tense, oppressive atmosphere. The verses, when they arrive, swerve into hypnotic, chanting territory; the words are inscrutably abstract ('curious pet in an open cage / subjected to his master's rage'). The finale is impressive: the title is intoned repeatedly, almost impassively at first, before erupting into an angsty howl. 

Perhaps the most interesting song other than 'Portrait' is 'Dog's Out'. Built around a jerky, relentless riff, it does have just a touch of REM about it (see what I did there?), but at this point in my listening experience - I've thus far listened repeatedly to all the studio albums up to and including English Little League - it's the track on this album that seems to most clearly signpost what GBV would become; the one that would feel the least out of place if slotted into one of the later albums.

In conclusion...

I like the album a lot. But it has its flaws, one of which is that it feels a little derivative in places. More signifiant, however, is the 'inconsequntial instrumentals' factor, given that they make up nearly 30% of the LP's running time. They give the impression of padding out the album to make it up a respectable length (and it's only just 'respectable', clocking in at just over half an hour). 

This puzzles me a little, because [a] debut albums tend to be filled with the songs that the band have whittled down to their current best over the course of their formative times, and [b] one of the main things that the casual GBV listener knows about Robert Pollard is his incredibly prolific songwriting. The notion of GBV fleshing out an LP with underdeveloped instrumentals seems an alien one.

What I do know, is that if you remove them, you're left with a cracking 22-minute EP.

Added to the 'GBV Favourites' playlist: 

As I make my way through the albums, I've been adding the strongest songs to a 'favourites' playlist. Despite my reservations, Devil Between My Toes is pretty well represented, with 8/14 tracks included...

• Old Battery
• Discussing Wallace Chambers
• A Portrait Destroyed By Fire
• Dog's Out
• Hank's Little Fingers
• Hey Hey, Spaceman
• The Tumblers
• Captain's Dead

Other News

• I felt that I really ought to own at least one GBV t-shirt to wear whilst tapping away about this stuff. I didn't want to buy anything from one of those sites like redbubble because [a] the artist doesn't benefit and [b] they're full of crap anyway (The Fall shower curtain, anyone?) So I went to the official store and - despite being a little stung by the p&p and that weird 'oh, and there's tax as well' thing that the US does, ordered this one and this one. Apparently, I get a free bottle opener and a mystery 'bonus GBV freebie' as well. I'll let you know when they arrive.

• My wonderful wife has made occasional appearances in my music writing over the years, most notably for describing The Fall as 'the worst band ever' (you can hear us discussing them here). Early doors, her opinion re GBV is non-commital. 'More easy to listen to than The Fall,' certainly, but she also feels that she can't identify a distinguishable 'GBV sound' - 'I have to keep checking that it's still them you're listening to.' 
• It can be difficult to integrate into a well-established and tight-knit musical community such as GBV's, but I have to say I have been delighted by the warm welcome I have been offered by the Facebook group. So thank you; much appreciated.

In the days before I had twins, I used to churn out posts at a rapid pace. I can't hope to do that any more, but I hope the Sandbox post will be with you before too long...

Next

Index