Things I Will Keep #13: TOBIN SPROUT, Carnival Boy

Tobin Sprout
Carnival Boy
1996, Matador Records

I’m one of those goofballs whose favorite Beatle is George. Also, my favorite Beatle solo album of the early years after the big break-up is Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. Sure, it’s not perfect. It’s a triple-album set and, like most people of good stock, I ignore the “Apple Jam” instrumental garbage on the third LP. And “I Dig Love” might be the worst song ever written. And I don’t know why the hell Harrison figured that we need two versions of “Isn’t It a Pity?”.

The headline though is that it’s the work of the underdog guy in the band now doing his own thing and killing it. The highs of All Things Must Pass reach such peaks that they can lead a guy to forget the low points.

One also imagines that All Things Must Pass is a stockpile of songs that got left off of Beatles records. Great stuff that might have fit right in, but never got the chance.

That’s part of the appeal of Tobin Sprout’s first solo LP outside of Guided by Voices, but with a difference.

Tobin Sprout ain’t making any triple albums. Along with his penchant for cream-and-sugar songcraft, Sprout also has an ear for brevity. His songs stop by for a quick handshake and a “how do you do?” and then get right the hell out. It’s one of the reasons why he was a good fit in Guided by Voices and Sprout continues to keep things tight on Carnival Boy, which is fourteen breezy songs over a chilled-out thirty minutes. The longest track is a whole 2:55. The shortest, 1:15.

It’s the work of a man who just entered his 40s, makes his living as a painter (his photo-realistic works sell for thousands of dollars to art collectors who don’t know anything about his music), is in a happy marriage, has babies to raise, and harbors no illusions or delusions about being indie rock’s next big hero. He’s a goddamn adult who happens to like crafting pretty melodies and making records. It’s one of several things on his plate as an artist.

There’s lots of room in my life, and in my dwindling record collection, for guys like Tobin Sprout. Artists who just do what they do because that’s what they do, no pretensions or hard sell.

This album, in a good way, comes off like songs that Sprout had lying around among his oils and turpentine. One suspects that at least some of it was offered to Guided by Voices first. Any song here would sit pretty on Under the Bushes Under the Stars (though only the lovely and chorus-less “Cooler Jocks”, one of the album’s few lo-fi moments, is documented as being part of an early draft of that much fussed-over album). Most any song here might also fit fine on a late 60s Bee Gees record, for that matter. It’s all sweet aches and pretty flowers.

Sprout’s songs here are yearning, but in a hopeful way. They might walk lonely streets sometimes, but they’re stargazing while they do it, grooving on the light from Ursa Major. Sprout’s loners are sometimes even happy about it (see “Hermit Stew”).

I do recommend this album for late night walks (a hobby of mine). It’s pop, but it’s not the goose-your-ribs type. It plays best through headphones, not because it’s sonically crazed, but because it’s so intimate. It’s a quiet masterpiece, a secret that’s kept between you and Sprout. Even as a singer (those instantly recognizable, high, gentle vocals that, curiously, sound nothing like his natural speaking voice), Sprout never comes off like he’s addressing a room.

He’s singing just for you, baby doll.

The highlight is the title track, a gorgeous number from a performer who knows his way around a sigh and a swoon. “Carnival Boy”, the song, is better than any of Sprout’s Guided by Voices contributions (yeah, I said it, whatcha gonna do?). It’s one of those pop songs that kisses you right on the lips. It carries me away every time.

And don’t even get me started on the moon-kissed “I Didn’t Know”. I’ll start crying right now. And you don’t want to see that. It’s a beautiful song.

Let’s also mention “White Flyer”, a lean little punk/garage workout and a harder rocker than we’ve come to expect from Sprout and the sunny anthem of “E’s Navy Blue” with Robert Pollard on guitar. And I’d be a fool if I didn’t talk about the solo acoustic “Gas Daddy Gas”, a little heart-tugger about a young person who goes on their own life path, despite resistance from their parents, and does so without hating their parents. Its narrator is defiant, but he still loves his family (“Scratch the back of some strange emotions/ But I can feel your devotion”). It’s a lovely sentiment and a lovely song.

The whole thing is good. Even if I wasn’t the biggest Guided by Voices nerd on my block, I’d still need to keep this album.  It’s an antidote for music that’s bloated and uninspired.

1996 was a busy year for Tobin Sprout. Along with this LP, he also put out two 7″s (the solo EP Popstram and a single under the name Bevil Web, all of which are terrific and feel like companion pieces to Carnival Boy;  I hope to write about them here some time before society collapses) and became a new father, which lead to him quitting Guided by Voices.

Sprout couldn’t play “Gold Star for Robot Boy” every night AND be a good dad at the same time, so he made the right choice and went with fatherhood.

He didn’t tour behind this album. He didn’t perform on stage at all again until 2000, when he briefly got another band together.

We’ll talk about that later.

In ’96 though, Matador Records promoted this by releasing it on the same day as Robert Pollard’s first solo album, Not in My Airforce, which is coming up next in my Robert Pollard series on this very website that you’re now reading.