We're way past the point of criticizing Robert Pollard for putting filler on his records. If these two simultaneously released Merge LPs were a double album, it would be too long, too bloated, and too much to digest-- like 95% of all double albums. As two individual records at 16 to 17 tracks apiece, Coast to Coast Carpet of Love and Standard Gargoyle Decisions are both nearly as exhausting as double albums themselves and prone to the same problems.
Moreover, the somewhat arbitrary distinction between the two albums-- Carpet supposedly angles for power pop, while Gargoyle explores rawer rock territory-- only means the former features more of producer/accompanist Todd Tobias' keyboards (set to 'auto-swoon' as usual), although the songs on that one are probably more consistent and hit their modest mark a bit more often. Were you to consume these two records in an impatient, disrespectful, and completely human way-- say, by deleting the weaker tracks from your iPod and keeping the better ones-- you'd end up with Pollard's strongest record since dissolving GbV, and one that would at least stand up to the albums that band recorded during their second stint at Matador. By and large, Pollard has found his groove.
In Standard Gargoyle Decisions' best moments, it's a record about rhythm. Drums have a renewed focus, snapping and hissing and almost overwhelming in the final moments of "Killers", whip-cracking in the cowboy strut of "Pill Gone Girl", and galloping through the prog-inspired stops and starts "A Hero Blows the Revolution". There's a long stretch of forgettable tracks between those and late-album highlights (such as the simmering anthem "Feel Not Crushed" or the irrepressible energy of punk-cribbing closer "Spider Eyes"), but even the lesser tracks benefit from more diversity, interesting production, and Pollard's immutable charm.
That said, Coast to Coast holds up better, playing like a careful and more confident refinement of last year's Normal Happiness as Pollard moves just outside his usual comfort zone without overreaching. There's nothing that doesn't "rock" about opener "Our Gaze", with its insistent guitar line and vocal providing catchy countermelodies. Of course, the track sequencing is again mystifying here, wedging two of Pollard's most winding and unpredictable songs between the opener and "Current Desperation (Angels Speak of Nothing)", patient pop that layers several sparkling guitar tones under Pollard's comforting croon. Still, there's no skipping or waiting around for inspiration here; "Dumb Lady" navigates its circuitous and wobbly melody to a satisfying end, "Customer's Throat" turns a few staccato notes into simple, but ominous power pop, and even the backwards faux-eastern tones of "Pnumbra" are tempered by sweetened harmonies. These may all be small-scale successes for Pollard, but they're successes nonetheless.
It's unlikely there will ever be another record from Pollard that could be all things to all fans, not just due to the expectations set by GbV's mid-90s peak, but because Pollard's many side projects allow him to indulge his stranger inspirations across entire records, rather than in brief, quirky experiments tucked between hits. Still, after his latest collaboration with the Takeovers (singing over pre-recorded tapes) and thoughtfully balanced records like these that take a few chances without losing focus, hearing a record from Pollard that's both concise and still weird doesn't seem impossible. He doesn't always sound inspired here, but he sounds a whole lot more like himself.
