Pitchfork

Her forehead floating a mere two inches above her desk, she barely noticed the end of young Mr. Lytle's show and tell presentation, for his latest musical project "Sumday". This particular afternoon of Rock 'N Roll Grade School had been especially boring, even for the positive and fresh-out-of-college Mrs. Mimms: she had optimistically chosen a Friday to allow everyone in her class a chance to share with their peers what they'd been working on recently. Thus far, her expectations had been met with tired, subdued results, but she was hopeful yet that some special student would rise above the rest, and offer some delight on an otherwise dreary afternoon.

"Thank you Jason for that...interesting performance," she said, barely forcing a smile. "And now could Charlie Campbell please come up front and share with us his," Mimms rifled through some papers before cautiously continuing, "Goldcard project?"

A small box in the corner with a narrow horizontal slit in one of its sides began to make its way clumsily to the head of the classroom, bumping into desks, chairs and students along the way. The box approached Mrs. Mimms, whispered something quietly in her direction and situated itself to the left of her desk. With a bewildered look on her face, she addressed the class, "It seems that Mr. Campbell has made a deal with Off Records' president Chris Slusarenko regarding his public appearances: (1) he is not to be seen or touched while the album is playing, and (2) he will communicate with us via only the slit in his box." She sighed and added, "So without further delay, Charlie."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Mimms. I would like to start by saying that none of this would be happening if it was not for the efforts of Chris and my friends in Grandaddy and Quasi, because without their constant badgering I would have never compiled all of the Goldcard tapes into the album you are about to hear. I would also like to thank my former bandmates in Pond, Chris Brady and Dave Triebwasser, for their help in the following recordings."

There was a rustling noise from inside the box, then slowly, music began to seep forth from its tape-covered edges, organic and fragile with a sliding glissando quickly leading to what sounded like a metallic-tinged series of arpeggios. "This is the first track, and it is untitled, as are many of the songs on Goldcard. That sound you hear is what I refer to throughout the project as 'the gimmick'; basically it is a guitar technique that approximates the sound of an electric string orchestra, and it is the basis of what inspired me to keep producing music after Pond's fallout with Sony in 1998. I recorded most of these tracks utilizing the gimmick, but then I lost sight of what the technique was-- though I guess I could have asked Ronald Jones, of the Flaming Lips, or Duane Denison, of Jesus Lizard, to remind me of it-- and with it the confidence in my ability to compose excellent pop songs."

Charlie continued, "The next composition is 'We Only Doubt Which Theory We Will Be Proving First'. This recording includes Sam Coomes and Rebecca Gates, who were present for the one and only true Goldcard practice. The metallic jangle you hear in the acoustic guitar is achieved through the use of a quarter as a pick. The gimmick is used liberally in this track, the bass line acting as a lower register mirror to its skittering brightness. This same idea is carried through to 'Destroy and Recreate', which uses warm guitar effects and my own quivering falsetto to deliver abstract lines alluding to the alluring embrace of anonymity such as, 'From a dancing bear/ Subtract a waltz/ We slowly stop counting/ When long division keeps us apart.' It's similar to Coomes' Quasi-technique of deceptively accompanying even the most somber and challenging lyrical content with a dazzling and poppy beat!"

"'Didn't Feel A Thing', 'Picture Of A Horse', and track twelve all utilize the talents of my former bandmates Chris and Dave, augmenting the regular, sort of lilting Goldcard sound with a heavier hand. It alternates between a backwoods plucking steel guitar to the sound of golden-age Alterna-Rock like Archers of Loaf, Grifters, or Superchunk. But 'Rabbit', 'If I Could Help It', and track sixteen are my return to basic indie-pop roots, all displaying the talents of either Grandaddy's old-fashioned guitar-crunches and subtle melodies, Janet Weiss' methodical drumming, or gimmick-less harmonizing courtesy of Beach Boys-aficionado Sam Coomes."

"You may have noticed that tracks seven through nine seem slightly incoherent. Though number seven-- originally 'Outside Suite' from the Colonel Jeffrey Pumpernickel concept album-- is pretty saccharine compared to the drum and bass on number eight and the Vietnamese disco song that follows, they serve their purpose, fanning the range of my concept and building on multiple musical ideas. Disjointed as they are, this all comes to fruition in 'Birthday', which is an experiment in tempo that I believe to be the world's most ambient hardcore track, a gospel delivery recorded at 200 beats per minute. The composition is meant to provide an interesting counterpoint for the slowly evolving pulse that arises from the backdrop of sonic trickery."

"'It Had A Dream' and 'A Fascinated Eye Production' both allude to what eventually eclipsed my fascination with the gimmick and led to my final fallout with music in general-- 'It.' 'It' is either the idea of Universal Love/GOD, or an inside joke between myself and Robert Pollard regarding the alcohol content of Nyquil-- you be the judge. Either way, the extremely long coda rounding out 'Fascinated Eye..." is meant to allow the listener time to contemplate what 'It' is to you. Even though I still haven't resolved 'It', I hope that through this album you will gain some small insight into my personage, and more importantly your own. After all, that is part-in-part the intent of music, and more broadly, art."

The box grew silent, and Mrs. Mimms could not hold back the swelling in her heart brought about by the sincere exposure Charlie had just shown the class and inevitably the world at large. This was the type of work she had been waiting on for quite some time now, wading through countless poseurs and pretenders to the crown just to find that such a rare and unassuming gem as Goldcard was beneath her very nose. In terms of both talent and originality, Campbell had proven himself the best of his class, though it was a bittersweet victory in that this would probably be the last release to bare his privileged mark. Somehow that only added to the romantic nature of such a work though, as it suddenly struck her as poetic that Charlie had ended his career on such a high note. As far as she was concerned his legacy was now cemented, her gratefulness in his courage to finally release Goldcard far outweighing any anger at never having another taste of his undeniable talent.