Pitchfork

With Guided by Voices dissolved and at least two solo records completed, you'd think Robert Pollard might like to take a break for once-- if not for artistic reasons, then to build anticipation for his upcoming double album. Of course, the forces that compel him to pen new material daily haven't abated, and he continues to insist on releasing virtually all of this music in a steady, intractable flow. Since disbanding Guided by Voices almost a year ago, Pollard has already released two EPs under his own name-- and that's disregarding the side projects, compilations, and, oh right, an album composed entirely of stage banter. Of these EPs, one is a slipcase-bound sampling of acoustic rock, while the other is a brief soundtrack for the Steven Soderbergh film Bubble, set in Pollard's native Ohio. (Soderbergh, an apparent fan, also contributed a list of fawning bullet points to Jim Greer's recent Guided by Voices book.)

Bubble is, surprisingly, the more fully produced and cohesive piece, a collaboration between Pollard and multi-instrumentalist/recent production foil Todd Tobias. "All Men Are Freezing" is a rousing midtempo rocker with romantic lyrics that are surprisingly-- if blandly-- straightforward for Pollard, alternating "miss you" and "kiss you" in several lines. "747 Ego" is a chunk of lumbering, beer-stained bloat-rock that's old hat to Pollard by now, and familiar to anyone who's followed late-era GbV (and lucky us, the final track is a reprise). "Boring About" and "Search-Light Pickups" are brightly recorded but unmemorable instrumentals given thrust by acoustic guitar. And Pollard absolutely maims the melody of "I'm No Child"-- unless you find the babyish murmuring at the song's end amusing. Granted, the film may serve as a more ideal setting for these tracks, but as a stand-alone release, Bubble delivers an uninspired sampling a few of Pollard's songwriting modes, and nothing more. When casual fans shout down Pollard's quality control issues, Bubble is the kind of record they're talking about.

Zoom

exudes more creativity and homespun charm. By all appearances, it epitomizes the cast-off, with simple, traditional compositions, and hiss-drowned taped dialogue filling out the corners. But opener "Dr. Fuji and Henry Charleston (Zoom Variation)" is a quaint guitar duet between Pollard and late-era axeman Doug Gillard that's unprecedented in Bob's catalog, and the title track's rosy-cheeked melody and skip-along drum machine rhythm are charming elements of an unusually demure Pollard track. Even the raw "Catherine from Mid-October" sparkles, a gorgeous acoustic demo waiting to be fleshed out. Elsewhere, the dialogue snippet segues find Pollard teasing a heavily accented woman attempting to define conceptual art, and talking with another woman whose affirmations sound like a lecture from a life coach. They're brief pieces, but add just enough contrast to the cozy, informal atmosphere of the songs.

Ultimately, though, neither of these EPs is near to what one might call "essential," nor do they contain any real gems worth plundering, save the potential of "Catherine from Mid-October" being re-recorded by a full band somewhere down the line. Still, the worst I can say of Pollard in his comfort zone is that he's more competent than he's generally given credit for, and if nothing else, you can never be sure exactly what to expect.