The loss of Guided By Voices still looms large. I have spent the last 10 GBV-less months not only spurning indie rock—on the farewell tour Robert Pollard was often heard to describe the death of indie rock as simultaneous with his band’s own departure—but rock in general. Anticipating the end, I despaired about the need to find a new favorite band. Now anyone who attempts to fill that void is held with contempt. Guided by Voices were the perfect idols for me, closet record geeks from a mid-sized, sports-centric Midwestern city—theirs only an hour and a half drive away from mine. As my personal rock gods, Guided by Voices were too tailor-fitted, too relevant to my own experience, to be replaced.

Or perhaps the reason I haven’t felt the need to replace Guided by Voices is more a result of Pollard’s torrid release schedule this year. I had little time to recover from the Chicago end of the year—end of an era—finale before reading a press release that detailed an anticipated six releases of unheard Pollard material for the calendar year. But when those floodgates opened there was doubt. The Zoom (It Happens All Over the World) 7” was lacking. Circus Devils’ Five didn’t thrill me. The Moping Swans EP was merely a fine play at Kiwi-style post-punk. From a Compound Eye has sounded promising, but alas has been delayed out of 2005 due to a label switch. To many, it may have seemed that the Pollard song factory, once a proud and booming industry, was billowing death-smoke from its venerable stacks. For me, hope still rested in the promise of 100 unheard demos/outtakes/songs culled from recesses of Pollard’s den—the follow up to 2000’s Suitcase: Failed Experiments and Trashed Aircraftbox set. Suitcase 2: American Superdream Wowwas my chance for deliverance.

American Superdream Wow, along with myself, was delivered last week. Expectedly, there seem to be fragments of Guided by Voices masterpieces here. Vaguely familiar melodies, probably wholly original, remind me of favorites like “Smothered in Hugs” and “King and Caroline,” the same way such classic-era Guided by Voices songs vaguely bring to mind the grandeur of rock’s yesterdays. I can’t tell if some of these songs are actual precursors to beloved Pollard-penned classics, or if, through years of compulsive listening to his canon, I’m able to pick up—and perhaps exaggerate—even the smallest traces of his pop-genius. More fascinating, though, is the insight such a collection gives to the songwriting of a man who, in 20 years, has published more songs than Bob Dylan has in his entire career.

1996 represents the peak of intrigue in the Guided by Voices story, the primary point of transition. The band had just completed the vaunted trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, and Under the Bushes Under the Stars. Tobin Sprout is out. Doug Gillard will soon be in. The blueprint for the later incarnation of Guided by Voices, Mag Earwhig, would come out the next year. Thus, contemporary tracks “Are You Faster” and “Stingy Queens,” both said to be demos from the aborted concept LP Power of Suck, play as documents of this transition. Do these songs fit on Under the Bushes Under the Stars or Mag Earwhig? One can’t tell. Muddy “Stingy Queens” with ethereal reverb and you’ve got the former’s “Acorns & Orioles.” Distinguish the riff on “Are You Faster” and you’ve got the latter’s “The Finest Jokes is Upon Us.” Apply different adjustments, and the comparisons are switched. Amazingly, this pair doesn’t highlight transition so much as the lack thereof.

If “Stingy Queens” and “Are You Faster” tell us anything, it’s that Pollard’s songwriting has stayed wonderfully consistent during Guided by Voices’ tenure. Like the white-label release Edison’s Demos, which stripped down the mid-fi rock bombast of Elephant Glue, both songs lay bare Pollard’s process. The sometimes decried shift towards higher production values in the late stages of the band’s oeuvre mostly represented a change in sound, not craft. While at one point Pollard may have been trying to make FM radio rotation, he was also searching out new directions for his perfect song-histories of rock to take. And judging by the skeletons of those that did not make the cut, it’s hard to believe that Pollard’s mastery of melody will ever fade. It may take six releases a year and archival digging, but Uncle Bob can be trusted to do what it takes to continually supply his singular genius.