A Conversation with GBV Drummer Kevin March: "Being In Guided by Voices Is Literally The Greatest Thing In The World"

Kevin March reflects on his history with Robert Pollard, joining GBV's current and longest-serving lineup, managing School of Rock Montclair, and co-founding Rocking for Inclusion.

Photo: Beth Chucker

Kevin March is best known as the drummer for Guided by Voices over the past decade, a role he has held across three distinct periods in the band’s history: the 2002–2004 farewell era, the 2010s reunion of the “so-called classic lineup,” and the current configuration formed in 2016.

A 1991 graduate of Berklee College of Music, March joined the Dambuilders shortly after graduation, recording and touring during the band’s major-label run. He later played drums for Shudder to Think and performed with Those Bastard Souls, remaining active in the 1990s and early 2000s indie rock circuit.

March first met Robert Pollard in 1993, when Guided by Voices opened for the Dambuilders at the Causeway in Boston. In 2001, he decided to leave professional music and was accepted to culinary school. Right then, he got connected with Pollard, who invited him to join the band without an audition.

March went on to record 2003’s Earthquake Glue and 2004’s Half Smiles of the Decomposed with the band before they dissolved for the first time. In 2014, as the reunion of Pollard, guitarists Tobin Sprout and Mitch Mitchell, bassist Greg Demos, and drummer Kevin Fennell wound down, he replaced Fennell, returning for 2014’s Cool Planet before the band dissolved a second time.

He then drummed in Ricked Wicky — Pollard, guitarist Nick Mitchell, bassist Todd Tobias — across their excellent three-album discography: I Sell the Circus, King Heavy Metal, and Swimmer to a Liquid Armchair, all released in 2015. He also drummed on Pollard’s solo album that year, Faulty Superheroes.

In 2016, after Pollard rebooted Guided by Voices with the self-recorded Please Be Honest, he assembled a new lineup: guitarists Doug Gillard (after a brief stint from Mitchell) and Bobby Bare Jr., bassist Mark Shue, and March on drums.

Their first recorded work together was that year’s double album August by Cake — which, among songwriting contributions from all members, featured two self-recorded March songs: “Overloaded” and “Sentimental Wars.”

A decade later, this configuration stands as the longest continuous, unbroken lineup of Guided by Voices in its four-plus-decade history — and as their live activity ramped up, March also came to serve as their tour manager, as Rich Turiel stepped away. He’s been behind the kit for every GBV album since.

Outside of GBV, March is the General Manager of School of Rock Montclair in Montclair, New Jersey, where he oversees curriculum, faculty, and performance programs while teaching drum students.

In 2024, he co-founded the nonprofit Rocking for Inclusion with a longtime student and his family. Their mission: “bringing together talented rockers with neurodiverse or physical disabilities with their neurotypical peers to create an inclusionary environment and fabulous music.”

“Rocking for Inclusion is, first and foremost, a talented band,” March says. “Their love of music and performing for others both thrills and inspires their audience.”

In this conversation, March discusses his path to, from, and back to Guided by Voices, his role in the band today, and how those turning points reshaped his understanding of what it means to sustain and nurture a creative life.

Rocking for Inclusion will perform at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, New Jersey, on Saturday, February 28. Doors are at 4:30 p.m., show at 5 p.m. Click here for tickets and info. The Dambuilders will perform at the Mercury Lounge in New York City on April 24; click here for tickets and info.

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What’s up, Kevin? How’s life?
Life is good. Just working at School of Rock, writing songs, playing drums all the time, mainly because I teach most days. I also started the nonprofit Rocking for Inclusion. I’m gonna do some shows with my old band, the Dambuilders. I’m also recording new albums with Bob and Guided by Voices, which is always a thrill. So, that’s kind of what’s happening.

I’m the general manager here at School of Rock. It’s kind of quiet right now, but the school gets very active around two or three o’clock in the afternoon.

So you can chill and get work done?
Lots of administrative stuff, calling parents about any issues and to get new students enrolled, meetings with my staff and the owners, and random tasks. And then, in the afternoon, I usually teach a few lessons, which I absolutely love doing.

I am fortunate to teach neurodivergent students; some have autism, some have Down syndrome, one has Alzheimer’s. I found that when I played his favorite song of all time, “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin, his memory would come back. He actually saw Led Zeppelin in 1975, and talks about it as the greatest show ever.

In the live version, when Robert Plant would sing “laughter,” he’d say, “Does anybody remember laughter?” So, every lesson, we start out with “Stairway to Heaven”; he’s singing the song, and when we get to that part, he always says, “Does anybody remember laughter?” and he looks at me. It’s a very touching moment, very poignant. We have a whole repertoire of songs we do each lesson.

So, I love that part of teaching — connecting with people like that — and that’s where Rocking for Inclusion came out of.

An adult student that I had been teaching for about 10 years had this dream. He has autism, and he wanted to be in a band that toured around and did these School of Rock programs, like AllStars, which are the top musicians that audition. He wanted to do that. And I said, “Hey, yeah, we can possibly do that.”

So, over the years, we got more and more people, and it [became] possible to put a band together. And last year, we created the nonprofit. We co-founded it with him and his parents, and they’re now playing shows.

We actually did a performance last Tuesday at an adult care center. They did [Journey’s] “Don’t Stop Believin’,” with all these people dancing. With what’s going on in the world, I felt like I was in a bubble of joy: They’re playing music. This person’s dream to form a band has come true, and I was able to help facilitate that.

I’ve realized over many years being a drummer — in a supporting role, in that way — that I really love to help people. And that has really come through what I’ve been able to do teaching at School of Rock.

When I would go on tour with Guided by Voices, I’d come back with some new information that I was able to share with students. Maybe it was something about the live performance and being in the present moment. When I'm onstage with GBV, no one can call or text me. No one can take me out of that moment. I am fully in those songs, connecting with the band members and the audience.

When performing with Bob, we’re in these songs that are greater than us. And I’m living this dream that I had as a six-year-old, when I discovered Kiss and wanted to be in a band. Guided by Voices has given me that.

When did you first meet the man?
I met Bob for the first time on November 7, 1993, when Guided by Voices opened for my band the Dambuilders at the Causeway in Boston. Bob had a copy of Alternative Press featuring Guided by Voices for the release of Vampire on Titus.

He half-jokingly told us that they would not be opening for us again. He was right.

The Dambuilders outside Wetlands in New York City in the mid-1990s. Photo: Michael Galinsky

Then, I met him again in the fall of 1999, when I was the drummer for Those Bastard Souls — with Dave Shouse of the Grifters, and Fred Armisen had been the original drummer.

We opened for Guided by Voices, who were supporting Do the Collapse and the upcoming release of [Pollard and Gillard’s] Speak Kindly of Your Volunteer Fire Department. I got to know and become friends with Bob on this tour. What an amazing tour — I was certain they would be playing arenas next.

Bob has given me three unexpected surprises in my life — three times when I wasn’t sure where I was going next, and here comes a call.

It happened the first time in 2001. I had just gotten off a tour with an artist, and I always wanted to be on a tour bus, but we ended up on seven because they broke down. Watch what you wish for, I guess. And by the end of it, I was exhausted. Then, September 11 happened around that time, I was like, You know what? I think I’m done being a professional musician and hustling.

The week I decided to move on, I got accepted to culinary school at Johnson & Wales in Providence, Rhode Island. I then received a phone call that would change my life, from GBV manager David Newgarden — telling me that Bob wanted me to give him a call at Cro-Magnon Studios, where they were recording Universal Truths and Cycles.

I’m talking to Bob, and he goes, “I want you to be in Guided by Voices.”

You must have hit the roof.
I could not believe what I was hearing. I said, “Do I need to audition?” “No, I’ve seen you play,” because he saw me with Those Bastard Souls when we opened up. I said, “Do I need to move to Dayton, Ohio?” “No.” “Alright, can you hold on one second?”

And I called my wife and said, “You’re not going to believe this. I just talked to Bob from Guided by Voices, and he’s asked me to join the band. She’s like, “Well, that’s a no-brainer.” And then I called Bob back, and he was excited. I said, “Yes, I’m in.”

Then, he sent me a list of 60 songs to learn. I can’t tell you the joy I had in going to my rehearsal space, setting up, and learning those songs. I had seen Guided by Voices so many times, like on the Do the Collapse tour. So, I saw Jim Macpherson play; I saw Kevin Fennell play.

It was the kind of band I’d always wanted to be in — one that plays in front of an audience of rabid fans who know the songs, and they’re upfront singing along. That was my dream as a kid, playing drums by myself in my barn.

And here I was, getting this opportunity when I had let go of my idea of a career as a drummer. I had moved to New York with my wife because I was getting so many session jobs. I thought I might become a session drummer. I was in Shudder to Think; I was in the Dambuilders; I was doing all these things, but I always wanted to be in a band that was going to be hugely successful.

I saw other bands become quite successful right in front of eyes, like Weezer. We toured with Weezer before they broke. It was the Dambuilders and Weezer. We were opening for Lush when The Blue Album came out. We met them in Salt Lake City — they barely made it; their van broke down — and we were flip-flopping: Who’s going first?

And by the time we got to New Orleans, we got the call: “You guys are going on first. ‘The Sweater Song’ is starting to take off.” Weezer was on Geffen; we were on EastWest, Elektra. They definitely had a machine behind them.

So, we did that tour. And then as “Buddy Holly” was massive, they brought us back out on tour, and we got to open for them, and it was really nice. That was an awesome experience. I grew up with the band Live; I saw those guys blow up. I was always watching these things happen. Third Eye Blind, we opened for. Better than Ezra.

But being in Guided by Voices is literally the greatest thing in the world. Bob is always pushing himself. He’s always in top form, especially now.

Which is part of the point of this Substack.
He is the most inspiring person. I knew him as a friend first, and then the music he makes — how he pushes himself and sees Guided by Voices as something bigger than himself, and he approaches it that way. He works so hard on everything he does.

Whatever it is — the songs, the lyrics, the visual art, the artwork for the albums — everything is crafted with so much care, and he looks at it as what it means to him. And that’s a true artist. Bob is a true artist, and it’s been a gift to be around that in many different ways.

I was part of the lineup with Doug Gillard, [guitarist] Nate Farley, and [bassist] Tim Tobias. And then I came in near the end of the classic lineup [reunion in the mid-2010s], which is crazy when I think about it. And then I made all these incredible records with Bob — Ricked Wicky — and my connection really developed with him. Everyone has their own connection with Bob, and no one takes that for granted.

Guided by Voices performing “Everywhere With Helicopter” on The Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn in 2002. Photo: Ana Luisa Morales

Then Bob forms this lineup — this lineup comes together — and this is incredible to me. It’s the longest I’ve ever been in a band with the same people. That’s Doug, Bobby Bare Jr., Mark Shue, Bob, and myself, from July 2016 until now. The same people, and that chemistry. I have never been in a band long enough to experience this uncharted territory of magic.

The chemistry onstage began to develop. I mean, you could look at someone — just a small movement — and you knew what to do. And this is hard to explain to someone, but that chemistry is now at the point where you can’t ever take that away.

[2025’s] Thick Rich and Delicious [and its follow-up] are pretty much myself, Doug, and Mark Shue in a room playing live [with Bobby Bare Jr. contributing backing vocals], no click tracks or anything. It’s our chemistry onstage that is being recorded and captured forever.

When we get in a room together, something magical happens. It happened with Bob — but, again, it’s bigger than us. I think that’s one thing Bob presents to everyone — to fully respect that.

When he asked me to be the tour manager for the band — which I was honored to do, and love doing — one of the things I said to the band was, “We all have to work at the level Bob works at. He’s going to be practicing these songs every day. He has to learn all the lyrics, the melodies, everything, but then he’s going to present these songs as the greatest performer he can possibly be. We have to do that to honor what Guided by Voices is and what we are in this. Don’t take this for granted. Don’t become complacent. Bring your whole self into this.”

And then, we have to be ready for that unexpected surprise — which is that this band is still together with the same people, and everyone seems to be honoring the joy and essence of what Guided by Voices is. Bob’s creativity is the same it’s always been. I’m sure if you talked to him when he was a kid, it’d be the same. He’s able to tap into the childlike part, and that’s a gift he’s had his whole life.

I’d be driving the van next to him, and he’d want to share: “Oh my god, check out this. He’d have song titles and lyrics, and he’s sitting there working while we’re driving. I’ll never forget those moments, because those are where I watched Bob just be his creative self — and then he’d share it immediately, and the excitement — he was, like, entertaining himself, and then he wanted to share that.

And that’s what people get from Guided by Voices, which is much different than any other band or artist out there.

Did you end up going to a day of culinary school?
No. What happened was, as I was moving on, a friend of mine who was a chef said, “Oh, you should work in a restaurant.”

So, I was reading a book, and there was a chef named Alan Harding. He had a show called Cookin’ in Brooklyn. He had a restaurant called Patois that he had opened, and another French-Vietnamese restaurant on Smith Street called Uncle Pho. In the book, he said, “I want people to work for me that want my job.”

So, I walked down to Smith Street, which was just down the block, and I walked in and asked if I could see him. He came out, and he said, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I’m interested in cooking and culinary school, and I want your job.” “Can you come in and work? You have to work two days for free.” That was the thing. I said, “Sure."

I go in the first day, and it’s the hardest job I ever had in my life. I don’t know what I was thinking — burning my hands, all kinds of stuff — but I learned so much. He’d be cranking Led Zeppelin and all this music, and he was really excited to work with me because of my background as a musician.

And then I started getting phone calls to my house — this was before cell phones, and my wife would have them call the restaurant — “I’ve got a couple sessions.” I was like, I guess I’ve got to go revisit the idea of a music career, or whatever.

But I had applied to culinary school because I was like, OK, this is something I could do. It’s creative. I like that part. But, no, I never went to one day of culinary school.

Do you cook at home?
I mess around with stuff. I would not call myself a chef. I did stay with Bob for several weeks, and we would cook, and I would make him food. That was a lot of fun, because I would cook for him and do the pan toss to flip something, and he loved it, and we would laugh. It was a special time together with him.

Tell me about your day-to-day. Is it pretty School of Rock-focused in most of your comings and goings?
So, I live in Montclair, New Jersey. Montclair Film [the nonprofit that organizes the Montclair Film Festival] is here. Stephen Colbert lives here. There’s a lot of professionals in media and arts everything and everything. [Jazz bassist] Christian McBride, who opened Jazz House Kids with his wife [Melissa Walker].

I run School of Rock Montclair, which is about five minutes from my house. The high school that our daughter went to was in between our house and School of Rock, so it’s amazing that I can work here.

I come here Monday through Friday, essentially, and then we have School of Rock shows on the weekends; I will participate in those. So, I’m the general manager for that, and then I also co-founded and manage the Rocking for Inclusion group.

But the other thing I do is write songs. That was one of the things I recently recognized that I really wanted to explore.

Not to go off on another thing, but Bob gave me a mic. I love to sing and play drums. The drummer at the time didn’t have a mic, and Bob came to me and said, “Kevin, I’m going to give you a mic.” Because one of the drummers spoke freely on a mic one time, and Bob decided to take the mic away from the drummer moving forward. He was like, “I’ve never given the mic to a drummer again.” So, when he gave it to me, I did not take that lightly.

Over the last 10 years, I’ve done a lot of doubling and harmonies with Bob. I got to learn how to sing by singing with Bob’s voice in my monitor. I can’t thank him enough for giving me that opportunity. It’s led me to pull myself from out behind the drums to playing guitar and singing, which I do sometimes here at school.

The gift about where I work is that I’m in a rehearsal room with amps and mics. It's a musical playground of sorts. What I do is work for a while, then take a break and start writing songs.

So, my daily life is: get up, walk our dog, spend some quiet time in the morning, come to School of Rock, work, maybe write a song, teach students, book gigs for the school, and then go home each day.

Then, if I’m working on a Guided by Voices record, I’ll be constantly listening to Bob's demos, and work on becoming those songs, and then go record those. We’re working on Cash Rivers right now. So, we’re kind of in that world, which is really fun and funny.

I’ve been working with a musician here in town, Nick Lashley, a guitar player and producer. We met, and I was like, “Hey, do you ever want to maybe collaborate — write some songs or whatever?” He’s a really nice guy — great guitar player.

I had been teaching his twin daughters here at the school before the pandemic, and we were writing songs together with the kids, so we kind of got to know each other. I got the courage, I guess you could say, to share some of my music with him, and we connected. I’ve been working with him where I’ll record something and give it to him, and he brings it to fruition as a production and stuff.

So, I take all of what I have from Bob — everything — and apply it to my job here at School of Rock. I’m now following what I call the honest noise inside me: This is what you want to do. These are the things you can do. Let’s do it.

Bob has always demonstrated how to complete things and put them out. He’s the greatest example for a creative person to be associated with. I don’t know if he knows the impact he has on me. Every day, I think about how he approaches his life as an artist. He’s in the moment — that’s something I’ve learned from him.

And then he loves animals, insects, everything. Just hearing him talk about it is his true heart I’ve experienced as a friend and being in the band. He’s the kind of person that, if you’re having a rough time, or whatever, he’ll sit there and listen like a really good friend does. He’ll offer some advice if he feels he can, or he’ll just listen. That’s what a friend is. I can say that about Bob.

And the other thing is, he wants us to be who we are in the band. I almost guarantee everybody you speak to will say he wants you to be your true self in the band. He gives you creative opportunities to present who you are.

It bears repeating how significant that call must have been.
It literally changed the trajectory of my life.

I look at things differently now, looking back on these moments that we’re talking about. Like, before that phone call came, how do you just sit with it and let go and know that something’s going to happen? If you’re thinking in a positive way, manifesting what you’d like to see happen, acceptance of something and moving on creates a void for something to come in. And Bob came in.

The second time wasn’t dissimilar. It was 2013. I was looking for work. I was talking to School of Rock here in Montclair. I went for a walk around the park. I said to myself, Something has to happen today. Something has to happen for me today, I just said to my mind.

And literally, when I get into the house, Bob calls me: “Did you see blah, blah, blah?” I said, “Yeah, I did.” He goes, “Well, that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling because I want you back in the band.”

Are you shitting me? Again, I had to say to him — with slight hesitation — “Can I call you right back?” And I called my wife again. “You’re not going to believe this. Bob has just asked me back in the band.” “Call him back and say, ‘Of course I would.’”

I call him back and say yes, and he’s like [cheekily, knowingly] “Who would say no?”

[Laughs]
And that’s where I was brought in the second time, almost 10 years later. And then I got the whole job here at the School of Rock in Montclair. It started to happen. I let go. As Bob says: if you think it, it’s out there, I can absorb it. If you say it, I might get it.

The universe is speaking to us in all different kinds of ways. Everything is somehow connected. All these thoughts are out there and waiting for a place to land — in a song, or whatever. Bob’s antenna is up. He’s in tune with the universe in a different way.

How long have you been writing and singing songs on guitar?
As I look back on it, I think I’ve been doing it my whole life. What do you call it? This is what I’m going to call it: drummer syndrome.

My dad was a drummer, so he pulled out a drum set, and my first exposure [to a musical instrument] was that drum set. I think he set it up essentially for my older brother, but I immediately gravitated towards it and started playing drums.

So, I became a drummer and loved it, but I didn’t realize until later on — maybe even recently — that being a creative person is what I am and enjoy.

I went to Berklee College of Music in 1988 around incredible musicians. My roommate played guitar, and I started to teach myself guitar because he had a guitar there. Bob also taught himself how to play guitar in college.

So, I started playing, but the voice in my head [told me] You’re a drummer, you’re not that, you can’t be that. And then I went on to be connected with some of the most incredible front-people and songwriters in my career.

Now that I look at it, I was in these bands as a creative force as well, and I would offer input, but I wouldn’t give myself the credit and support I needed. Now, I feel like I have that, and Bob is probably the main reason why I have that.

When we did August by Cake — or even before that — I had been staying with him, and there was a song I had written the music for. He heard me playing it on guitar: “Love Your Spaceman.” It’s on [his 2008 solo album] Superman Was a Rocker.

I sent him the track, and he wrote lyrics and sang over it. He liked my riff, and he gave me a little piece of guitar — “Try this” — and we collaborated on that.

And when we did August by Cake, he was like, “I want everyone to submit two songs. That’s my thought to introduce this band, because you’re all songwriters. Do your own thing.”

So, I sent him five demos, and he called me back: “I want this song, ‘Overloaded,’ and the one where your melody is kind of going up and down.” I was like, "Sentimental Wars”? “Yeah, that one. I want those.” I said, “OK, I’ll record them.” “No, you’re not. Those are done.”

I literally recorded that song in my kitchen at home with GarageBand drums. And “Overloaded” I recorded in my room at my apartment in Brooklyn. I’m playing a hi-hat and snare drum live on it, and everything else is a drum machine. I played guitar, bass, etc., and that was just sitting there.

When those songs came out [on August by Cake], I was like, Wow, those are songs I wrote! It started to build up my, I don’t know, excitement — of, like, Yeah, I love to write music. I have melodies in me.

Maybe confidence is the word?
Well, it was confidence, but what I think was holding me back in my own self was that I’m a drummer — and, trust me, there is nothing wrong with being a drummer. I had to remove that. I needed to call myself a musician, and I needed to listen to what myself and other people were maybe guiding me to do.

So, I started writing and recording songs — and sharing is the hardest part. Bob kind of forced that — he wants songs, you give him songs.

The reason I performed at Heedfest this last year — Heed wasn’t at the one the year before, because he was dealing with some medical things — I drove out, brought a guitar to write and stuff during downtime.

We were hanging out at this event the night before the Yellow Cab [Tavern] thing. People had been asking me, “Will we ever hear those songs live?” and I said [modestly] “No.”

And then I woke up the next morning, got the guitar out, and I started playing these songs. That voice, or noise, or whatever, in my head said, Kevin, you want to perform these songs and you can, so let’s go. Let’s see if we could do that today. I’m talking to myself in my room — guided by my own voice.

And then I went down to the Yellow Cab. I saw Heed. I went up to him and said, “Between you and me, something’s telling me I need to do this. Would it be alright if I played three songs — just guitar and singing? Please don’t tell anyone; I’m not 100% sure if I will do it.” He was kind of like, “What? Of course. Hold on.”

He leaves, comes back, and says, “I had to tell one person.” And Matt Davis is standing behind Mike. Then, Matt brought me in, and said, “OK, we can do this.” I was like, Oh my god! I’m going to do this! I committed myself to performing alone that evening.

And then I went up and played three songs. One was “Overloaded.” One was “Sentimental Wars.” And then the first song I ever wrote, called “Something Better.”

I decided to go with the first song I ever wrote as the first one I played, and then people started coming in. Bob and the whole band were there, and I was playing in front of fans, and it was a way for me to say, Thank you. I love this band and this group of people.

So, it was the perfect place for me to take a risk and do something on a whim. I was so calm on that stage, and I walked off, and I couldn’t believe that I just did something I probably always wanted to do, and Bob influenced that. That void was there — that opening.

[GBV producer] Travis [Harrison] and I were driving out there together, and we mentioned that word: the void. You have to have a void — an open space — for these things to happen.

The open space was there. We were just hanging out. There was nothing set in stone. I just had to ask if I can do that — and what a special moment, to be there and do that with Bob in the room.

It wasn’t about ego. It was really about, Am I listening to myself? and How do I say thank you to all these fans? How do I say thank you to Bob? And the only way I could do that was to get onstage and be vulnerable and perform.

I really respect Bob’s role as a front-person. It’s much different than being behind the drum kit, ten feet from the audience. Bob and the other musicians are right there. So it’s a different feeling to experience that, and it gave me a lot of respect for what Bob does and what he’s done. He makes it look so easy.

Guided by Voices in 2016. Photo: Matt Davis

Nineteen GBV albums after August by Cake, his songwriting has evolved a lot. Tremblers and Goggles by Rank, Nowhere to Go But Up — that’s pretty complicated music. I’m sure your drum language has evolved with him.
Absolutely. So, we get demos from Bob. It’s usually a guitar and voice. He puts it together at home — records into a boombox, transfers that with a CD burner, and creates the form that he wants.

Then, he sends that to Travis, and Travis launders it — essentially cleans it up a little bit, and gives it a click track. Sometimes, there’s multiple click tracks, depending on if it needs to move or whatever, and he sends that to us.

At first, we get the raw demo that Bob sent to Travis, and we just listen to that and absorb Bob’s initial spark. It’s what he’s envisioning. It’s just his voice and guitar, but within that is information that only will come out through many, many listens.

And this is the beauty of Bob’s creativity: he makes art to keep discovering. Every time you listen, you’re going to discover something new. When I listen to it, I’m like, Oh, it’s going to speak to me. I start hearing drums; I start thinking about what I think it could do.

But I let it absorb — let the song come into me — and then we have this click-track version. Through that process, Bob is also creating these production notes — where he might want drums, where he doesn’t want drums.

I take all that information in his lyrics, and start to look at that and start the process of sculpting my drum part. He’ll give me these little notes that help you along: “Do a marching band thing here.” Or, “Can you do this? Can you make it this kind of beat?” Or, “This one’s a hit in Australia.”

The way Bob plays his guitar and sings, all the information starts to come out. You start to actually hear drum parts, bass lines, the guitar style — I’m sure Mark and Doug would talk about that. You just start to hear it. Every piece of information is in that demo of Bob singing and playing guitar.

Did that process change, as the band transitioned from the Covid era, with every member recording separately, to mostly live-in-the-room albums like Thick Rich and Delicious?
Those were us playing live like we were on stage. One thing we didn’t get was humans in a room. Now, I can watch Doug and Mark and Bobby playing together. But I always have the demo in my headphones.

If I’m recording drums, a lot of times, I’ll be the first thing that is recorded. Sometimes Doug will add a guitar, just so I can hear the electric and play as if it was live with the whole band.

A lot of those are my imagined live playing, which comes from my childhood of playing along with records, being in that mindset.

Can you talk about using the School of Rock as its own instrument? My mind goes to “Math Rock” from Mirrored Aztec and “Dirty Kid School” from Earth Man Blues, where it sounds like you have a toy box of classroom instruments at your disposal.
Yeah, a lot of the percussion stuff I would be doing, sometimes. Sometimes Travis added stuff. I would honestly have to go back and listen to that.

You brought up “Math Rock.” Bob reached out to me: “Hey, man, could you get the kids to sing on the record, ‘math rock,’ like a choir?” I have videos of it. I said, “Yeah, I think I can.”

So, I got these kids from School of Rock — our daughter participated too — over to the studio, and I conducted them along to the recording, and they sang on “Math Rock.” It was really cool to be able to show the students what it’s like to go into a studio and be on a record that was going to be released.

(Filmed by Ray Ketchem at Magic Door Recording)

One time, I was in the office down in our basement, and I had a snare drum, and I set up my iPhone, and I had this cool sound. I sent that to Travis, and we were able to put that into something. Earth Man Blues is a very unique-sounding record.

I had a drum set in a very small room at that studio, and for “The Batman Sees the Ball,” I wanted to go for the most AC/DC sound I could get, and we did it on that one. I think it sounds amazing.

For “Child’s Play,” I literally recorded drums outside at Magic Door Recording, the studio where I record drums for many of the GBV albums. There’s a video of me recording in a parking lot. People were driving by. Somebody knew me. “Hey, Kevin, what are you doing?” “We’re recording drums!”

Because when we first [recorded remotely due to the pandemic] — I think it was Styles We Paid For — I had to come into the studio [Magic Door Recording] with a mask on. The engineer, Ray Ketchem, went into his control room, closed the doors, and then I went into the room with my drums, and then I could take my mask off and play.

But it allowed us to approach it differently, and those records have a unique sound to them.

So, the only thing that’s really different is the setting we’re in, and then if we’re playing live together, which is really the difference.

We removed Bob’s demos [from my headphones] on these last records because we learned the songs so that we could play them like it was a live performance and not be controlled by a click, if that makes sense. All the other ones, Bob’s in my head singing with me. Sometimes we would have to do that for the more complicated ones.

Sometimes, we would piece the drum parts together — like, he wants this sound, and then he wants it to sound big. We would change the miking on the drum kit, and then I would go in and do that. Then, with technology today, you can seamlessly put it all together.

That’s how we use modern technology as an asset, and make amazing-sounding records [that way], where we couldn’t do that in the past.

With Guided by Voices, Bob’s always worked with whatever limitation he had — four-track, whatever — and we have always recorded within any limitations. Maybe we can’t get together, whatever — but we make something, we put everything we have into it, and whatever comes out is what that was in that moment in time.

Photo: Gary Waldman

As a singer/songwriter and drummer, what non-Pollard or GBV music inspires you?
Recently, I’ve connected with Paul Westerberg a little bit. He did that [2002] album Stereo, which is just guitar and vocal, and I really love that song “Baby Learns to Crawl.”

The first drummer [I absorbed] was Danny Seraphine from the early Chicago records. My dad had a Chicago record, and I was like, He’s having so much fun. And I would play along to these records, and I didn’t learn what they were doing. I just played along as another drummer. I like the energy of that.

I’m a big Thin Lizzy fan. I was into the Cure, R.E.M. — those types of bands were a big inspiration. And I know you say not Bob, but I think Bob for sure...

I caught myself there, because he must be inseparable from everything else.
So, if you’re around Bob — if you go around Bob — you see all these different people he has in his life. He accepts everyone.

So, if there’s something connected to Rocking for Inclusion, or what I do here at School of Rock Montclair, the people right in front of you may surprise you, so you don’t want to discount them for perceived differences or whatever it might be. He inspires me in that way.

After the show — when we’re going to get in the van or whatever — I’m watching Bob with fans, and he’s so loving with people who appreciate what he’s doing and come up to him saying how his music changed their life.

It’s hard to put into words, but I look at that as how I think he presents his art. He does art for himself, but I think the bigger thing is how it’s going to affect the world when people keep discovering it, because he put his whole self into that.

I approach School of Rock like that. I see potential in a student, and my job, I feel, is to show them their potential. And Bob has shown me my potential. I can’t see my own potential. We can’t see it, right? Somebody needs to show that to you. Bob is my true inspiration for seeing who I really am and supporting that. So, I have to give him that credit.

As far as drummers, Manu Katché, Jim Keltner, and Al Jackson Jr. really inspire me. But early on, John Bonham, Keith Moon, Ringo Starr, Peter Criss — that was my world of playing drums.

Again, I didn’t learn what they played. I played along with them as if I was another drummer in their band. I saw some kid — some friend of mine’s brother — playing along to a Van Halen song exactly the way it went. I was like, “Why are you playing it like that?” “Because that’s what you do. You learn it.” I’m like, “Really? I just play along with my own thing.”

That’s the childlike side of myself. I always want to be my own self — my own creative drummer. But then, I learned how to do that, and then I went to music school, and then I was able to combine all that into what we’re doing.

I think of Freddie Mercury when he got on stage. I’m playing with Robert Pollard, and he brings that force on stage: I’m here to perform, and I’m gonna do the best I can possibly do. Freddie Mercury is a true inspiration — there are some recordings of just him singing, and you hear the passion in his singing.

I just read Rick Rubin’s book The Creative Act. That book speaks a lot to me right now, of all the things I’ve been thinking about. It’s like he’s describing Bob and the way the universe works.

It’s being aware. I think aging is the only way you get to gain and experience wisdom. There’s a beauty that we need to look at — where sometimes, when you’re old, you tell yourself you can’t do this and that — and Bob is another inspiration. Guided by Voices, to me, is the Fountain of Youth, especially when we’re onstage.

I’ll just share this one last thing. We were getting ready to go on stage. I think it was in Pittsburgh. We were all like, “Alright, let’s go out and have a great time.” I had this vision. It literally just flashed in front of me. We were all kids — about 12 or 13.

And then I came back and we went on stage, and I was like, That’s what we are on stage. We’re literally those kids — that pure awe — and anything’s possible. When we play live, age goes away. Everything goes away and you are in that present moment.

I’m sure you get as much inspiration and awe from your students as we do our rock heroes.
This one student I teach drums. A lot of kids come here and they’re nervous or scared, or a little shy. This student just started naturally understanding drumming, holding the sticks. I’m like, I’m gonna run with this.

I studied with Joe Morello, the jazz drummer, and couldn’t believe what he taught me. I was like, I’m going to teach this to young students, and they will have no idea what they’re learning. But I want to teach this. So, I decided to teach what’s called the natural technique.

This student is now about 10 years old, and he’s a monster on the drums — and it was because I was able to see what I knew was in him, like myself as a kid. I try to teach my students: If I had this when I was their age, what would happen? And I’m seeing this happen with this student, and he’s just become a monster. It’s an innate ability — some learn it and then can do it.

My staff is full of amazing musicians — and we’ve been jamming together and stuff, because I think we’re artists first and then instructors. So, I try to instill that in students: You’re artists. You’re unique. Watch that flourish and come together, rather than becoming a mimicker. Watch what happens.

So, I’m really fortunate to have a place where I can walk in and engage with people on a journey to become artists and creative people. I write songs with kids just for fun, and those songs did not exist before they came into that lesson.

Now, the song exists, and we quickly record it on my phone to capture it, and I’m like, “This is the joy of what we get to do as artists and instructors.” And I’ve seen a lot of students take that and say, “Can we write another song?”