For more than a decade, layout designer Joe Patterson has been a key conduit between Robert Pollard’s imagination and the outside world. Working from Pollard’s handmade collages, Patterson transforms the songwriter’s cut-and-paste visions into finished physical layouts — sleeves, booklets, and labels that make Guided by Voices’ prolific output feel cohesive and tactile.
A Dayton, Ohio, native who first crossed paths with the band through friends and the Rockathon Records circle, Patterson’s connection to Pollard runs deep. His layout credit first appeared at the top of the 2010s, with Boston Spaceships’ Let it Beard, GBV’s Let’s Go Eat the Factory, and Pollard’s solo album Lord of the Birdcage.
Since then, he’s handled every GBV release — including the forthcoming Thick Rich and Delicious, out October 31 via GBV Inc. — as well as many Pollard side projects, including Teenage Guitar, Ricked Wicky, Cub Scout Bowling Pins, Cash Rivers and the Sinners, and Rip Van Winkle — who Patterson also plays bass for. (Their new album, Blasphemy, was released last summer; their lineup includes further GBV family in guitarist Ben Penry and drummer Jason Short.
Patterson has also contributed bass to The Sunflower Logic, a unit also consisting of Pollard on guitar and vocals, his brother (and offstage, indispensable early force) Jim Pollard on guitar and “noise,” and Greg Demos, an important bassist for GBV during their breakout era, appearing instead on drums. Their sole album to date, Clouds on the Polar Landscape, was released in 2013.
If GBV producer/engineer Travis Harrison captures the sound of Pollard’s modern era — read our interview here — Patterson helps materialize its look. He’s the craftsman who channels Pollard’s collages — sometimes no larger than a postage stamp, often sourced from Goodwill Outlet bins — into finished artifacts ready for pressing plants and record shelves.
And the Pollard-composed cover of Thick, Rich and Delicious, GBV’s new album out this Halloween — which is the mastermind’s birthday — is another eye-catching, mind-bending entry in a discography full of them.
I spoke with Patterson about his long Dayton lineage, the process of translating Pollard’s visual instincts into physical reality, and the stories behind the band’s ever-expanding gallery of album covers.
Thick Rich and Delicious is out October 31 via GBV, Inc. To pre-save the album, click here. To pre-order it, click here.
How did you get involved with Robert and the band?
My interactions, or friendship, with Bob started back in 2010-ish. I went to Ohio University.
Was 2011’s Let’s Go Eat the Factory your first of their album covers?
I think [former GBV co-leader] Tobin Sprout had started that one, and then I helped finish it. That could have been the first one. But there was also [that year’s] Lord of the Birdcage, the solo record. And there was a live triple LP that I had gotten to know [Rockathon’s] Matt Davis and Mike Lipps through going to Heedfest and being on the message board. Being a local guy, I moved back from college and got to know them. So, that started there.
But even going back a little bit further, my good friend in second grade was Steve Jamison, and he still is. He lives in Boston. Steve’s uncle, Pete Jamison, was a teacher in the Dayton public school system. He taught with Bob at Meadowdale High School, and coached with him as well. Back then, Bob dubbed Pete “Manager for Life.” He’s got all these names for everybody.
But he taught with Bob when they were still a basement band who played around Dayton from late 1983 to ‘86. Between 1987 and ‘93, they stopped playing live and just made records. That’s when Rockathon started — Pete silkscreened T-shirts and sold merch for GBV. He toured with them from 1993 to ‘96.
I remember going to Steve’s birthday party when I was in second grade, probably in the early ‘90s. Pete was there with his brother Paul — Steve’s father — and one of them was wearing a Guided by Voices shirt. I think I had heard about them through local radio or TV.
So, that was the first moment of, Oh, that’s interesting. At that point [of the band’s breakout], I was like, eight years old. That’s how I got kind of introduced into the world of Guided by Voices.
But when I was in college, Steve went to Ohio State. I went to Ohio University [pictured]. That’s when I got really obsessed with Guided by Voices. I graduated high school in 2003 and went to college in 2007. But I have an art education degree, so I went and did my student teaching back in the Dayton area, because I could live at home and save some money.
So, that’s when I moved back to Dayton. But I would keep up with Steve, and he would give me all these early, handmade T-shirts. He had bags of them at his college.
How much of an archivist is Robert? I imagine he commands a personal museum of artifacts.
Of course, he has all the records. Some of them, he only has a couple of copies left, because he’d give them away. But he still has a handful of every record. He has all the posters. He’s got a really cool scrapbook of news articles and the rest. It’s a pretty amazing archive.
Once I moved back to Dayton, I got to know Bob and what he was working on. My father, and his father, always had a commercial art business. So, growing up, I was always around photography and graphic design.
When I look at GBV album covers, I see Robert’s concept of the “four P’s” — pop, psychedelic, prog, and punk, eventually adding power pop and post-punk, to make it six — filtered through to various degrees.
I would say so. Bob’s heavily involved. I mean, it’s his record. He’s got a concept in his mind. And when we get together, he might say, “Look at these 45s by this band or this label. I want it to have a punk look, or a psych look,” or something like that.
He’s really got everything thought out. Whether it’s a collage — it’s usually a collage — or a photograph or something like that. And he’ll build the visual aspect of it around it. I just help him bring that into the physical world.
A great magician never reveals his secrets. Robert rarely reveals his. But does he lift the curtain when explaining his ideas to you?
A little bit — where he wants it to look like this. He’ll get into a little more depth: “I want a really thin paper sleeve.” Like, even the weight of the paper stocks. He’s particular about that. On some older post-punk 45s, some of the paper sleeves are really thin. For a while, we were getting these thin sleeves from a pressing plant up in Cleveland, and he was like, “Oh, that’s exactly right.”
So, it’s always cool to hear him articulate [his vision for his records] — down to how it lays when you open it up. The texture, the finish. He’s thinking about everything.
Does Robert give you a colorway to work with?
Usually, he’ll start with a collage that he’s done, that we’ve photographed for his EAT collage magazine. It might just be a small portion of one, or the whole thing. They’re all different sizes. We’re ready to start another one of those in about two weekends.
Wasn’t one of them the size of a postage stamp?
Some of them are tiny. [1996’s] Under the Bushes Under the Stars — I’ve never seen the original. I think someone bought that. But it could fit in a wallet.
Wait, I actually might be thinking of Ricked Wicky’s King Heavy Metal.
That one was larger, because he used Scotch tape.
It looks zoomed in.
I’d say most of them are smaller than the size of an 8.5”/11” piece of paper.
So the colorway, more often than not, comes from the raw materials of Robert’s collages?
Yeah. He’s like, “Make it the blue.” Or we sample a color in the photograph. Usually, that’s where the color palette comes from. Bob’s got a real good sense for color and composition, where he kind of knows, OK, it’ll look good like this. Or if we crop it down and square it up — like on Thick Rich and Delicious.
The typeface reminded me of what’s on a Tootsie Pop, or Tootsie Fruit Chews — Halloween candy. I think it’s in the Cooper Black typeface. I don’t know if that ties into the title.
All these concepts brush up against each other.
Maybe that’s not intentional. Maybe that’s just me reading into that, more than an intentional thing.
How does Robert source his collages?
In Dayton, on Woodman Drive, there’s a Goodwill Outlet. All the stuff that doesn’t sell at Goodwill goes to this outlet, and it’s giant bins of stuff. You can buy it by the pound — old magazines or books.
He goes there a couple of times a week just to get more material. People have started sending him stuff as well, which he always likes. I think he’s really looking for the older style of printing. I’ve talked to my dad about this because he’s worked in commercial art for a long time.
On that front, what should readers of this newsletter — should they find it — mail to GBV, Inc.?
Older printed stuff. In the 1980s — and right before the ‘80s — the printing got better, and a little sharper. The stuff from the ‘60s, ‘50s, and earlier has a softer look. Because either the lithography or the printing style just wasn’t as exact back in those days.
I think the cover of Earth Man Blues, in particular, was supposed to be as if it’s a poster for a school performance — and that ties into the concept of John H. Morrison. That’s his elementary school in Northridge, Ohio.
Is it still there?
A lot of older schools in the area have been torn down. A ‘50s or ‘40s building, where you couldn’t have air conditioning.
Or there was asbestos or something.
Yeah, that too. I think it got torn down and they built a new one.
Nowhere to Go But Up looks like what the doctor ordered.
That’s probably a ‘50s or early ‘60s yearbook. He’s always looking for yearbooks, because they’re sort of amateurish, in that high school kids put it together. It’s a little more candid.
And that particular image — a fan had found the source image, because in the Dayton library online, you can search for old yearbooks.
They identified the person. Matt Davis got in touch with their family and gave them copies of it.
I think that guy passed away recently, too, and it was right around that time. So, they were really appreciative that someone had tracked it down, and that they had gotten copies of it.
Bob and I were hanging out last week, and his friend Vic — or, Trader Vic — had a record store on Brown Street, by UD [University of Dayton].
He’s known Bob for a really long time. His record shop is now a flea market booth toward Cincinnati, and he’s always coming across old yearbooks and stuff. So, he’ll find a bunch of them and get them to Bob. He had 20 or 30 of them the day we hung out.
The focal point of Welshpool Frillies seems to be an underwear ad.
Or a lingerie model. And then the little polka dots are from some kind of cardboard stencil that Bob sprayed with enamel spray paint.
In both the title and artwork, I see disassembled Swinging London imagery.
I definitely get that sense from it. My impression is that he’s got a pretty fully formed concept of what it’s going to be when we sit down together and start working on stuff. And that’s not to say it doesn’t change when we’re working on it. We make adjustments.
Even down to the record labels. Like, when we did a reissue of [1998’s] Waved Out, or one of those Faded Captain Series solo records, I remember that Bob wanted to make sure each element of the reissue was a little bit different — had some different type, or different elements, than the original.
Because when he goes to record stores, if he’s buying an original copy, he wants to make sure it’s not a reissue. Sometimes, we’ve been in a record store, and we can’t tell if it’s an ‘80s reissue of a ‘70s album. They’re so identical that you can’t tell if it’s an original pressing.
Bob doesn’t do a lot of reissues. But when he does, he likes to make sure they’re slightly different, so people can tell the difference from the original. Which I think is kind of cool. He’s a record collector at heart.
There’s so much going on with the cover of La La Land. I love the light, earthy tones with the almost obnoxious primary colors. Yet the blue is not just negative space. It looks like there’s the side of a tower to the right. It messes with the viewer’s perspective.
Yeah, there’s always some kind of optical illusion element in there where you can’t really tell what it is, but it’s sort of familiar. His composition is always really strong — whether it’s dead center, or he’ll have some guidance on how it should look.
And then when we have the rough look of it, I’ll get into the templates for the pressing plant. The CD is always going to be a little bit different because it’s not a square, so we have to adjust some things here and there.
I think he has — I would like to think — that he’s got a lot of trust in that I can take that vision he has and get it into a product format, in the way it’s got to go for printing.
I’m the first one who gets to see the visual story of it. It’s really kind of fun. And then we’ll get it together in a rough state, and he’s like, “OK, send that out to everybody.” And I’ll text it to the band. It’s fun to see everybody’s reaction. Then, even sometimes, he’ll have the album cover done before they record the record.
Titled and everything?
Sometimes it’s titled — and then a lot of times, it’ll change. I know that for the next GBV album they’re getting ready to record, he already has an idea. We were going through one of the EATs last weekend. He said, “OK, it’s going to be this one — and we’ve got to square this one up.”
Does Robert deal in misdirections? The cover of Mirrored Aztec looks like it’ll be a Santana album, or electric Miles. Instead the music is dry, tightly wound, with little discernible reverb.
I could see that. I think the visual style is usually reflected in the record, and that’s all in Bob’s head. But the artist — a local artist, Courtney Latta — is a really good illustrator in the area, and Bob had gotten to known her boyfriend somewhere. He showed him some of her work on Instagram, and he said, “Oh, that’s an album cover right there.” And then a week later, we were working on it, and he said to go ahead and do the lettering psychedelic style.
Do you think Robert’s visual art — whether on his album covers or not — are in concert with his lyrics?
I would think so. Certainly, the surreal element of his collages and visual art reflect in his lyrics. You don’t know where he’s getting this stuff. It’s just out there in the ether, or whatever you want to call it. And, certainly, he sources these images from older things. But sometimes, he’ll get something very new — like from a Dayton Daily News article picture — or chop up a headline. So, he’s mixing all that stuff together. It’s pretty fascinating to watch it gel as he finishes it.
Robert makes such interesting use of faces. On the cover of Cool Planet, a sliver of a head gives way to the saddest parking lot in the world — like that’s its “face.” On Tremblers and Goggles by Rank, a vintage illustration of a woman’s face looms disembodied on a darkened skyline.
Yeah, definitely. There’s a lot of contrast. On the Cool Planet one, it’s that old building. That building just got torn down this year. It had been empty for a really long time. And on the Tremblers cover, there’s that weird sunset picture in the back that could be a found photograph. Sometimes, at the Goodwill Outlet, you’ll find photos inside these old books. Or maybe it’s something from a scrapbook. Who knows where some of that stuff comes from?
He pulled the trick again on the recent live album. It’s just the edge of a woman’s face — brunette hair, cheekbone, tear duct, eyebrow — and then the faces in the background almost look like red blood cells.
In that use of a face — humans biologically respond to that. “Oh, it’s a face.”
That’s why there’s a man on the moon.
That’s exactly right.
Back in the Bush years, I remember Jesus constantly being found on grilled cheese sandwiches and pieces of toast.
People are looking for that stuff, and I think he’s consciously or subconsciously using that kind of element. “Is that a face? Or is it something else?
Would it be more accurate to call these collage or mixed media?
I think he always refers to it as collage — but sometimes, he’ll ask me to look up a certain technique, like décollage. That’s where I’m removing elements, like ripping the paper off a collage. I still have some of the old textbooks from the art school I went to, and I’ll look it up on the internet: OK, that’s more décollage than collage. He always wants to know the term for what I’m doing with this stuff. Like, scratching something away with scissors, etching it away.
The covers are so textural. I feel like I can feel them in my hands, even when they’re in the form of a weightless digital image.
When we do the photography, we get to see all 240 of them for the EATs. It’s cool just to even feel them. And I really like looking at the back of them, because you can see that it’s from a yearbook, or a LIFE magazine from the ‘40s, or something like that. I like flipping them over to see where they came from. He always jokes, “You and [former tour manager and core GBV insider] Rich Turiel like the backs of ‘em!”
I don’t recall ever seeing a globe with green oceans like that. Was it digitally altered? Color inverted?
No, that’s all in the collage. It’s something he found in some old book, or something. He’ll cut all that stuff out.
He’s always used the same pair of scissors that he’s had since high school, because that’s when he started doing this stuff. He says if he misplaces them, he starts freaking out, running around the house to find that pair of scissors in particular. He has X-ACTO knives, but he’s like, “The scissors just cut better. I know how to use them.” So, he almost 100% always uses the exact same pair of scissors.
I could show you album covers and play association games all day. But are there any I didn’t mention that you’re particularly attached to?
They’re all kind of special in their own way.
No two look similar. How does that happen?
I think it’s just that he’s doing it all the time. He obviously writes a lot of songs — always comes up with a lot of ideas for lyrics and titles — but I know for the visual art, he works on that almost every day. He says morning’s the most creative time — he’ll get up, make some coffee, read the newspaper, but then he goes right to doing collage. He still keeps that kind of teacher schedule where he’s up pretty early working on stuff.
And then by lunchtime, he’s kind of done with work for the day. He might go to the Goodwill Outlet after lunch and get more stuff, or go watch a Reds game or something. But he has a real, real strong work ethic, which I think is amazing. That’s how he’s able to make so much artwork and so many songs.
He’s not constantly writing songs [per se], but he’s always getting ideas. If we go hang out somewhere — watch a Reds game, or we’re at a bar or something — he’ll hear something, and say, “Hey, write this down. I’ve got hundreds and hundreds of song titles on my iPhone. I’ll send them over to his wife [Sarah Zade-Pollard] in the morning — “OK, here’s all the titles we got last time” — and go print them out. Some of those end up in lyrics or song titles.
One we did the other day was “Bebop Insect.” “Watching the British Open.” “Dead Weight in Emerald City.” “Eastern Specific Time.” Just little puns.
I know Pollard has done gallery showings and collaborated with a skate company. But why isn’t he an underground visual art legend?
That’s a great question, because I certainly think he should be. You know, he’s doing a show up in Detroit next year.
Robert’s stuff does more for me than most contemporary visual artists.
Me too. I totally love it, but it’s definitely out there. I think him selling his collages and doing the shows and getting him out there. But I don’t know how you crack into that world like he did with music — if there’s more things he could do. But I think he’s doing his part plenty.
It’s not his fault. Not Rockathon’s. Not anyone’s.
For sure. Maybe it just takes more time for people to pick up on it. I know he’s done collages for other bands who’ve commissioned him to do covers. Or they’ll have one in mind, and he’ll say, “Sure, go for it. You can certainly use that.”
So the best way to describe you is “layout artist,” right? Because Robert’s the artistic director.
That’s perfect, because Bob’s really got the concept. I’m just kind of executing what he’s talking me through and getting it into the format that it needs to be for production.
Anything else you wanted to mention about the Thick Rich and Delicious art?
No, I think you hit it all there. I love the colors on that one, and the typefaces that Bob picked out. You know, there’s no lyrics included with that record. And I’m not sure why that is, because I really love the lyrics on that. If he writes the lyrics first, or comes up with them after he’s done the music, maybe that has something to do with it, but I’m not entirely sure.
Shoot from the hip. Don’t think, even if you’ll regret it in five minutes. What’s your favorite Pollard album? Song?
I really like “Flat Beauty,” from [his 1996 debut solo album] Not in My Airforce.
I think I was at a bar with Bob, and I played it on the TouchTunes jukebox, where you can pick a song. That record, for some reason, was on it, and I was playing it. Bob was like, “Who is this? This is really good?” I was like, “This is you. This is your song.” He was like, “Oh, wow, crazy, dude.”
Favorite album — what pops into my head first? There’s just so many. I really like Thick Rich and Delicious.
Good answer.
I’ve got my official copy. “Lucy’s World.” So many good, good songs.
One last cover: How Do You Spell Heaven, from 2017. I think it’s beautiful with no text. And Pollard’s on the cover, which is sort of rare.
That was a picture that they took in a green room before a show that Bob liked. What I like about it, is that there are Christmas lights hung up — they look like stars.
Like he’s in heaven, as per the title. Or interstellar space.
And that lightbulb almost looks like a UFO.
Or the Genesis creation story. “Let there be light.”
Exactly.
Joe is the man! Great work on all these pieces, Morgan.
And the back of a lot of the collages are indeed awesome!
Excellent interview! Love me some JP. A couple Heedfests ago, I tried to pump some info from Joe about his involvement, and he was receptive until his modesty filter kicked in. So thanks for this! Homeskillet