>>Working Class Hero: Robert Pollard of Guided By Voices
(part two)

You don't live in Dayton. You're from a town called Northridge.
Yeah. It's right along the northern border of Dayton, although it's kind of separate from Dayton. When we first started getting press, my friends from Northridge said, "Why are you telling people you're from Dayton? You're from Northridge!" It's a nice, close-knit, almost inbred community. Most people in Northridge don't leave, but I don't know why that is. So a lot of people make it there goal to get out, but I like it. I live right in the center of Northridge. All my friends live there, and you've got to have home.

You married your high school sweetheart (Kim Dowler), who's also from Northridge.
I got married my senior year of college. Kim didn't go to college. I started going with her when I was 15, and our parents would have to take us out to the movies and stuff. So I went with her for seven years. During my senior year, she started working. I was about to graduate and was looking for a job, so Kim said, "Let's get married." So we got married and she supported me for a little while. And then I got a job.

Has touring affected your relationship with your family at all?
My wife cries every time I leave. I tell her, "I'll be back." She worries about me. My kids don't seem to mind, but kids are weird.

With your newfound popularity, obviously your family has had to learn to deal with you being a "celebrity." Did you talk about this with them, or is it an unspoken thing?
You know that saying, you lead by example? That's what it been like. I like my life the way it is. Maybe they like it or maybe they don't. I do tell them that I've always done what I wanted - if you play your cards right, you can do what you want. It was laid out for me to be an athlete, and I turned out to be a musician. The thing is, though, I'm not a musician. I've had no training, but I enjoy it, so I do it. A lot of parents will force their kid to be a cellist, making them go to school for it. But what are they going to do with it? I think it's better to let them decide on their own what they want to do.

Your kids now go to the same schools you went to as a kid. What's that like for them?
I think it makes it easier for them. They don't get picked on. People are like, "Those are Bob Pollard's kids. He was a good athlete, he's doing well for himself with music now." I think they get treated better. When I was in school, I got a lot of shit. It helped build my character.

And you still get shit at school. I heard that you were kicked out of your 20th high school reunion. Why?
Yeah. I wasn't planning on going to it because I went to my five-year reunion and hated it. My wife was in my graduating class and all of these pick-up artists were hitting on her. Reunions are for people who can't get pussy anymore, so they go back to try to rekindle old flames. So the night of my 20th reunion, I was out drinking with a couple guys who had tickets to the reunion. I was really hammered and in a good mood, and they convinced me to go. I went and was really trashed and was having a good time talking to people. Eventually, I kind of passed out, so I was escorted out. I wasn't being an asshole, I was just totally trashed.

You went to high school with Frank Meyers, who's a very popular country songwriter. Do the people from Northridge consider him to be more successful than you?
Yeah. To them, he's the shit. I'm still minor league. He lives in Nashville in a mansion, so people think he's made it. I tell people, "More people know about me than Frankie Meyers," but they don't believe me. What's ironic is that he was my back-up quarterback in high school. Now most people think he surpassed me with music. But he can't write songs like I can, so I'm still ahead of him.

When did you realize you might have a shot with music?
I didn't. It was a hobby. Growing up, I didn't really have any musical talent. I could always sing, but that's it. So I started hanging around with all these weirdoes from Northridge who could play guitar. And I would just watch them, 'Wow, I've got to learn how to do that.' That song 'Hank's Little Fingers' (on Devil Between My Toes) - Hank (Davidson) is the guy that inspired me to play the guitar. He had a deformed hand with these little bitty fingers.

When was this?
Around '75. I was either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. I had bought an acoustic guitar with my graduation money. And Hank inspired me to play it. I don't think Hank knows about Guided By Voices - he's this reclusive guy with long hair and long fingernails. I asked a friend of mine, "Should I tell Hank that he's responsible for all of our success?" He said, "No." "Well, should I tell him about the song 'Hank's Little Fingers'?" He said, "No, Hank would not be happy with that." So Hank still doesn't know.

Why did you start teaching fourth grade?
I did student teaching and different things with older kids. And I liked the high school kids, but junior high is brutal. They're caught between being adults and children, and they terrorize the teachers. I taught junior high for a year, I taught physical science, and I didn't like it. So I decided I didn't want to teach kids that were too young or too old. And fourth grade sounded perfect. So I started teaching fourth grade and liked it.

Now that you're doing Guided By Voices full time, do you make enough money to maintain the lifestyle you had when you were teaching?
I make a lot more money now. I read that Jon Spencer said, "That Pollard guy is bragging about how much money he made and how big his advance from Matador was." Fuck that, it's the truth. I make a lot more money right now. I don't know how long that's going to last. I'm trying to be smart about it, you know, investing and stuff. Teachers make 30 grand a year. I can make that by doing one song for a soundtrack.

When you quit teaching you didn't know how well things would go. Was it difficult giving up a job that provided you insurance and other perks that you don't get from being in a band?
It was incredibly difficult. For a year I was driving myself crazy, splitting myself between Guided By Voices and teaching. The last year I taught was when Bee Thousand was out, and things were starting to get into full swing for us. We did a couple tours and had to play out on weekends, so I had to take off every Friday for over a month. I figured I might get fired for stuff like that. But the principal I worked with was really cool. And when I finally told her I was quitting, she was so cool about it. She said she knew I was going to quit. [Laughing] I had come into school a couple times when I was drunk because we were out all night recording. But I always got along with everybody.

Did you have a lot in common with the other teachers?
Not really. I never went to the teachers' lounge. But the teachers liked me. In elementary school, there aren't a lot of male teachers, so they liked the fact I was around. They'd say, "Why don't you come down and hang out with us in the teachers' lounge?" But I would go off and take a nap to try to get rid of my hangover. I had 14 years of that.

What did you like least about teaching?
I enjoyed and loved the kids, but I felt a lot of the stuff I had to teach I didn't even agree with - teaching kids how to compete so they could fit into society. Fuck that. But I miss the kids. But I have kids of my own, so my house is always full of kids.

If Guided By Voices had really ended after Propeller and you still were a teacher, would you be as happy with your life as you are right now?
No, I don't think so. I would be happy, though. I was happy back then. It was stressful teaching, but having a job like that makes you do more with your free time. I used to really look forward to the weekends, but now it's like every day is the weekend. I have more time to be depressed now, but overall I know I'm happier now, doing what I want to be doing.

Will you ever have to get a "real job" again?
If I'm not making any money, I'll have to do something. I'm not worried about it. First of all, I'm a songwriter, and I know I'll always be one. Now I have my foot in the door and real management, maybe I could write songs for Silverchair or Bob Mould or something. In that capacity, I'll have a job forever.

Would you really be happy writing songs for other people?
Fuck yeah. I tell people I don't know how long we can keep getting up there and playing. You know that line in "Weed King": "We can't keep this violent pace"? It rings so true. How long can we keep the violent pace? I don't know how long people expect us to keep doing this. I don't know how long we can physically do this. I'm not in shape anymore. I used to run, but I'm really in poor shape now. The only exercise I get is when we play. But I look at Mitch and (occasional GBV bassist) Greg (Demos), and we rock harder than any kids. And it's our live show that everybody loves so much. We first started being that way live - jumping around, getting really drunk, being assholes - because we were such nervous wrecks. But people liked that. Kids are starved for a good rock show. Making records is a spiritual thing, playing live is about having a great fucking time, it's physical.

You definitely have a reputation for being a physical performer.
Performance is a total egotistical, silly thing to do. I'm a good performer because I like to get up there and have a party. I think I'm a bold performer. You have to be bold to do leg kicks and shit like that. I've subscribed to the school of rock. Rock is a good thing. Most indie-rock bands are anti-rock, but we embrace it. There's nothing wrong about wearing striped pants or jumping around.

You said you used to drink when you played so you would have the courage to get up in front of people. You don't seem nervous anymore, but you still drink.
I can play without drinking. [Laughing] But I choose not to. It's more fun to have a party with everyone drinking. People want us to be drunk. I told Nate (Farley) from the Amps - he was our tech at the time - "I'm not going to get drunk before we play tonight." He said, "Go ahead. I'll boo you. I'll fucking boo you."

Do you worry that the amount of drinking and smoking you do will eventually ruin your voice?
I don't know. I can hear the difference in my voice and I'm pretty conscious of it. I didn't smoke my whole life until Guided By Voices. I don't smoke unless we're playing or being interviewed or stuff like that. I've learned to sing from my diaphragm and less from my throat. I used to lose my voice after singing one night. When we did some dates in the Midwest earlier this year, by the third night my throat was stripped from smoking. If it starts to affect my singing, I'll quit smoking.

When you were young, your dad encouraged you to be an athlete. How did you feel about that?
When I was in little league, I was a great baseball player. I would practically throw a no-hitter every game. So because of that my dad said, "Son, you've got a golden arm," and he'd rub my arm down every night. I was also a good basketball player and a good football player, so my dad's aspirations were for me to be a sports star. He always fought me a little bit about music - he said it distracted me from sports. He would tell my brother Jimmy to stay out of my room because I was playing these weird records. He didn't want me to ruin his sports career, too. My brother was a high school phenomenon in basketball. He led the team in scoring his senior year and got a scholarship to Arizona State. But he fucked his knee up.

Your high school football coach said you approached music the way you did football: You get knocked on your ass, but you get right back up.
I don't know what he's talking about. I never got knocked on my ass. [Laughing] I was fucking tough.

Did you aspire to be a professional athlete?
I wanted to be a professional basketball player. My dad etched that on my brain. But I wasn't quick enough, which I found out my first year of college. I started developing this really bad attitude about sports. I was sick of people snapping their fingers and expecting me to move. I was like, "Fuck you. I've been moving to snapped fingers my whole life." I wasn't on scholarship, so I decided not to pursue sports anymore. My dad was really upset. He said, "I told you when you quit sports you have to get a job." So I had to get a job washing dishes.

Was it easier for your dad to accept your decision to quit sports because your younger brother still had a shot at basketball?
That was a nice outlet for him. My dad thought, "Well it looks like Bob's not going to do it. But there's Jim." And Jimmy was a better basketball player than me. So my dad started kissing his ass for a while.

Your son Bryan is a high school athlete now. Do you put pressure on him?
I'm trying to stop. The sports thing is part of my family. My son likes music, but he's not really into it like me. He's really into sports. So I try to help him, but sometimes I go overboard. I'll be like, "Dammit, Bryan, why did you do that? What are you thinking of out there?" And I always feel bad about it, so I'm constantly apologizing to him and telling him just to have a good time. But then I'll be watching him play basketball and evaluating what he's doing, and my brother will be there, too. And Jimmy will be in my ear the whole time: "Bryan's not doing this, he's not doing that." So I tell Bryan, "Get Jimmy out of my ear. Do it right so I don't have to hear Jimmy bitching." Sports is a big part of my family.

Is your daughter Erika into sports too?
Not really. She acts and sings, but she's pretty bashful about everything else. She's wild, like our song, "Your Name Is Wild." And Bryan's cool - "My Son Cool."

Guided By Voices played basketball against the Beastie Boys on Lollapalooza in '94. Who won?
We fucking smoked them - it was unfair. We claim we can beat any rock band in basketball, but we have to be able to use my brother. When we played the Beasties, it was make-it-take-it. So I'd dribble down the court, pass to my brother and he'd make it. Then we'd do it again. The Beasties had Billy Corgan on their team, too.

Oh, god. I just lost some respect for the Beasties.
He's actually not that bad a player. He's not good, but he's tall and he can jump. We had been just watching those guys play, and we finally got drunk enough to have the balls to say, "We've got next game." We were hanging around with the Flaming Lips and Kim and Kelley (Deal) - that was our group. And Kim and Kelley were like our cheerleaders, and Steve Drozd was riding his bike around the whole time. We were like a circus. When we first started playing, I had the ball, and Ad-Rock was guarding me. I kind of lost the ball, but I smacked it back to myself. But when I did that, the ball bounced up and hit him in the face. And he was like, "What the fuck, man? This is supposed to be a friendly game." It started off on the wrong foot, but we ended up being friends with them. They're good guys.

But are they good players?
Yeah, they're good. They're hustlers, but they shoot kind of funky. My brother and I come from the school of form, so we can tell who the real players are. But they know the game.

Do you think you're a good lyricist?
I think the way I write lyrics is the way you should write lyrics. You shouldn't write lyrics to have this literal meaning, they should be abstract and open to interpretation. Like Bowie or Blue Oyster Cult or John Lennon. Lennon is my favorite. That's why there's no lyric sheet with Under The Bushes Under The Stars. I like when people come up with their own ideas.

Are you a better lyricist than John Lennon?
I'm not nearly as good, I don't think. He was the best songwriter ever.

Neil Young?
He can be very good. Occasionally, we can both having uplifting lyrics. I think he's better.

Lou Barlow?
I think my lyrics are a lot better than Lou Barlow's. I think his lyrics are too relationship oriented. That's boring to me.

How would you rate yourself as a guitarist?
I'm like an idiot savant. I have a full knowledge of how to play chords, but I don't have the slightest idea what they are. As a songwriter, I think that's a plus. Any noise you make on a guitar is a chord. Other than that, I'm not a good guitar player.

How would you rate yourself as a songwriter?
I think I'm a good songwriter because I write songs to satisfy my soul. I write songs to get happy. I don't know how I would compare myself to other people. I don't know if I'm better than Lou Barlow or whoever else. Because I bring out my inner feelings through song, I think I'm a successful songwriter. It seems when people become stars - like Bowie - they get away from songwriting. I don't understand how that happens, how people lose the ambition to write good songs. I think people get all caught up in the industry and lose the desire. I think that's what happened to R.E.M. But that will never happen to me.