How Important This All Is To Me: A Conversation with GBV Historian and Insider Rich Turiel

A core Guided by Voices family member — and former Rockathon head/tour manager — on identity, chosen family, and who you are when the job ends but the bond remains.

Photo courtesy of Rich Turiel.

Much more than a band, Guided by Voices is an extended family, and a realm unto itself — an all-hands-on-deck operation built through tapes, letters, phone calls, basement shows, late-night bar conversations, tour vans, and the evolving network of people who kept that world moving. For decades, Rich Turiel has been one of the central figures in that orbit.

Turiel first entered the GBV universe in the mid-1990s through the Postal Blowfish listserv and the original Guided by Voices website, which he co-ran with Brian Mikesell. What began as trading live tapes and designing T-shirts grew into a close friendship with Robert Pollard — one built through correspondence, trust, and shared time on the road.

By the early 2000s, Turiel had taken over Rockathon from Pete Jamison, running Pollard’s merch and mail-order operation. Around this time, he also became Guided by Voices’ tour manager, working closely with Pollard during the Do the Collapse/Isolation Drills era and beyond.

When life circumstances shifted — including a divorce and the decision to prioritize raising his daughter — Turiel stepped away from touring and day-to-day Rockathon responsibilities. But the relationships didn’t break. He remained a historian, archivist, and friend inside the Pollardverse — the person people text when they need to know when something happened or who played on what.

Today, Turiel lives in Madison, Wisconsin, where he serves as CTO of WiscNet, the state’s research and education network. He still travels for GBV shows when he can. He still finds meaning in the family the band created. And at gatherings like Heedfest, he is reminded — as he puts it — of “how important this all is to me.”

In this conversation, Turiel reflects on identity, distance, return, emotional endurance, and the kind of friendship that lasts long after the job is over.

GBV’s new album, Thick Rich and Delicious, arrived October 31 via GBV, Inc. To pre-save the album, click here. To pre-order it, click here.

How are you doing, Rich? You’re looking awesome.
Thanks, I appreciate it. Feeling older but feeling good.

Emotionally older? Physically older?
I just turned 60 a few weeks ago. I feel like that number just automatically does something different. But emotionally and physically, I feel the same way I’ve always felt. I’m on the run. I go to shows all the time. I’m traveling a lot. Not a lot in my life has changed over time other than that number.

I last saw you a few years back at a GBV show in Columbus, Ohio, and I remember you describing your work and life at the time as somewhat insular.
Yeah, I definitely went through a time where that was the case. I moved out of the Midwest to Charlotte, North Carolina, and things were different.

A little lonely?
It was, it was. But in some ways, I feel like it taught me how to be alone — how to be OK with being alone, how to live alone. Eventually, I almost got into a state of: This is great! I just do anything I want every single day! — other than going to work and stuff.

But a lot of my weekends, even if I was by myself, was like, I’m gonna wake up. I’m going to go to the record store. I’m going to get something to eat at a nice place, go to a bar, have a couple of drinks. I think it shifted from a sort of loneliness to a period of, Hey, being alone can be a lot of fun.

And then I moved back to Madison, Wisconsin, about a year and a half ago — where I have a lot more friends, and my social network is a little bigger.

How did you get OK with being alone? Was there any moment, or series of moments?
Good question. Maybe some of it was trying to find a new identity.

I think I went through that period of time where, despite a lot of other great things I was doing in my life, my identity was kind of tied to the whole GBV thing. I think, when I got to Charlotte, I felt really far removed from it in some ways. And I think maybe it was reinventing myself to be whatever this version of me is now.

I used to have jobs, and I did the GBV stuff on the side. But that was what I considered my job. So, I got to a point where it was like, Alright, I need to think about an actual career. I need to do more than work at these jobs and feel unfulfilled. And I think some of that happened.

As far as where I’m at now, I’m just a good friend. I don’t play any part in anything other than when somebody shoots me an email or a text saying, “Hey, do you still have a copy of that,” or, “When we were doing this, do you remember what…”

So, the historian part is pretty much the only part I play. But I feel as close to Bob as I’ve always felt. I don’t see him as much, but the last Heedfest was a moment of reminding myself of how important this all is to me, and how close I still am to all of it.

Still never been!
You really should go. It’s a beautiful experience. It really, really is. Thinking about the very first one, to where it is now — it’s just wonderful. And my favorite part is actually the people who are there for the first time, and seeing their reaction to it all.

So, yeah: this last one, for some reason, felt extra special to me. I had a lot of great quality time with Bob and [GBV bassist] Mark [Shue] and Bob’s wife, Sarah [Zade-Pollard] — people I’ve been close to all these years. And, obviously, [Rockathon’s] Matt [Davis] and Mike Lipps were there; that was the first time I’d seen [Mike] in a couple of years.

It was just really heartwarming for me to be there.

Soul stuff.
Yeah, it is, it is, it is. You know, I’m not not close with my family. I have a close family. I don’t want to say there’s always been something missing — but my experience with being part of the GBV family has always been, that is family. It always felt like family, from the beginning all the way through now.

Mark, Matt, Mike — these are brothers of mine. And I know that under any circumstances, they would be there for me for anything, if I needed them. And I feel like everybody in that group feels the same way. I’ve known [GBV guitarist] Doug [Gillard] and [drummer] Kevin [March] for so many years now. Every time I see them, it feels like a joyous occasion.

In front of a canvas print of the collage for GBV’s 2002 EP The Pipe Dreams of Instant Prince Whippet, 2025. Photo courtesy of Rich Turiel.

How did you come into the GBV universe?
I remember my first interaction with Bob so clearly. I guess it would be ‘95. A guy named Brian Mikesell started the GBV website as a project to learn how to do HTML at the job he was working in Dayton, Ohio.

Is that the same thing as gbvdb.com?
No, it’s something different. The official GBV website itself. He started that as a project at the forefront of the World Wide Web, as far as people having websites. And right around that same time, I had just learned about Guided by Voices. I got on the Postal Blowfish email list.

Brian and I became friends, and I started co-running the website with him. He was like, “Oh, I live in Dayton. You should come see a show there, because it’s amazing if you see them in Dayton.” I had seen them, I think, in Indianapolis first.

And then I came to Dayton for a show. Before the show, [Brian] was like, “I want to show you this one bar — Walnut Hills. It’s a great, legendary Dayton bar. Let’s go hang out there before we go to the show.”

And all of a sudden, he’s like, “See that table over there? Guess who’s over at that table?” And it was Bob and [his brother and crucial early GBV force] Jimmy, with a bunch of Monument Club member folks at that time, and they were also hanging out before the show.

I was just like, Wait, we’re in this bar before we see Guided by Voices, and there’s Bob Pollard? It was unbelievable to me. I went into the bathroom at one point, and Bob and Jimmy had either just walked in there, or they were already in there. I was like, “Oh, man, I came to see you guys all the way from Chicago.” That was my first conversation with him, in the bathroom of a bar.

Bob’s generosity toward his fans and wants and desires to have a conversation are always incredible things to me. Over the years, I saw it — as we’re leaving clubs, trying to get back to a hotel, or coming in for soundcheck — the amount of time he’ll spend talking with anybody who came a long way to see them.

I saw it that night. He was just very interested in talking with me, and saying hello, and telling me how much he appreciated that I drove from Chicago to see them. That was my very first conversation with him. From there, it just took off. I was [administrating] the website and mailing list, and I started going to see them more and more in different places.

I would always have a quick conversation with Bob before or after the show. Sometimes he would come out and listen to the opening band, and I would catch him and say a quick hello.

So, it started like that, in that mid-‘90s period when they were still playing the Midwest bars I would see them at.

Then what happened?
Around that time, Pete [Jamison] was running Rockathon, and Pete would come to shows, or he’d have a shirt, or something like that. I had an idea for a shirt, and I made this GBV shirt with the atom logo from the boxed set, to sell on the website. And on the back, I put a quote from Bob from one of the live bootlegs that were being traded on the mailing list: “From the mythological town of Dayton, Ohio.”

I put up my money, but then, I also gave Bob whatever he wanted — like, however amount of shirts he wanted. From there, we developed a friendship.

I think this happened with a lot of people: Bob was really, really big on letters. I would get live tapes of shows and send them: “This is a really good one, if you’re interested.” A week or so later, I’d get a letter back from him thanking me.

I do remember that one of the next big steps was when the first Acid Ranch album [2002’s Some of the Magic Syrup was Preserved] came out. Bob and I were talking about how “I want free love / I want no more war!” [from “Beatles and Stones”] would be a great shirt. I was like, “Well, I can do that.” He was like, “OK, how about you make the shirt and we’ll do a 50/50 split?”

That was our first venture together, and then it just kept snowballing from there. I think Bob trusted me, and the more we did together, the more it became, “Hey, how about if you do this?” “How about if you do this?”

At some point — 2000, maybe 2001 — Bob asked me, “How would you feel about taking over Rockathon? Pete has all this merch, and it’s sitting in some space somewhere, and he’s really not doing anything with it. How about you get all the merch from Pete, set up a website, and we can sell them?”

I was like, “Sounds great.” So then I went to Dayton and picked up every piece of merchandise that Pete had, and we created a Rockathon website.I think Bob used to say, “Yeah, I used to see Pete, and he’d hand me $20 or $30 in cash — now I’m getting monthly checks from Rich, from all the stuff we’re selling.”

At that point, I was full-on going to shows all the time — just as a friend, but I was traveling all over just to go see them. I’d spend the weekend, three or four days [on the road]. Bob and I were becoming friends, and then the tour manager position opened up. I think at that point, I was like, I’ve been to enough shows to know exactly what the tour manager does. And it happened, then I did that for that extended period of time.

The first show that I tour managed was Bob, [guitarist] Nate [Farley], [bassist] Tim Tobias, Doug, and either Jim Macpherson or Jon McCann drumming. I can’t even remember. But it was post-Do the Collapse, around Isolation Drills, that I became full tour manager.

Can you talk about the end of your time as tour manager?
Yeah, I can. I want to be super respectful to my ex-wife, who is now a very good friend of mine, and we’ve really worked hard at recreating our friendship. I don’t know how much I really want to put out there, other than I made mistakes, we got divorced, and I made a decision that if we were going to be divorced, I wanted to make sure that I had the 50/50 split with my daughter — who was, and is, the most important thing to me.

I knew that meant I can’t go on the road; I couldn’t barter for the 50/50 time if I was touring. And I realized that was going to be the end. I just knew that stepping away was the only way I could do it. But even that was really hard. I didn’t even want to tell Bob that, up until a tour was coming up — and I was still like, I don’t know. Maybe I can do it. And I was still trying to barter with myself on ways to do it, until I finally was like, There’s no way I can do it.

If you want or need to trim your answer out of sensitivity, that’s fine. This is an authorized newsletter.
It’s funny. I became really close friends with Tommy Keene. He was really good friends with Bob Mehr [author of 2016’s Trouble Boys: The True Story of the Replacements]. A few times, Tommy would tell Bob Mehr a story, because Tommy toured with [Replacements frontman Paul] Westerberg. Mehr would would relay the story to Westerberg, and say, “Is this true?” And he would be like, “Yep, I’m not going to deny anything in that story.”

So, I remember Tommy telling me that some of the stuff that made it into Trouble Boys came from via him — but Westerberg saying, “Yep, that’s true.”

Rest in peace, Tommy Keene. Such a great musician, seemed like a genuinely good guy.
Oh, yeah, yeah. Through his time with Bob was when I became friends with him — but in the last year, the last few months of his life, I got very close with him. I did a little tour managing for his solo thing. We got gotten to a point where we were texting a lot, and being in touch a lot.

So, when he died, it was pretty crushing, partly because I felt like we were just beginning to become close friends. I went to his memorial service in Los Angeles, and it was just a complete shock to everybody.

The cover of 2006’s Blues and Boogie Shoes, by Pollard and Keene as the. Keene Brothers

He was a funny guy. He loved Bob. Oh, boy. Honestly, I really mean this. I those moments of being the solo band and being in Boston Spaceships [as an auxiliary member] were some of his happiest times in the latter half of his career. I don’t think he was ever more happy than when he was doing that.

He just adored Bob. He loved being around him. He loved the fact that Bob’s fans liked him. He was so happy in those moments that he played with him.

I’ve only met Robert once or twice, but he seems to fill up a room. His friends seem to mean everything to him.
On his 60th birthday, some publication did an article about Bob with contributions from different people. Mine, actually, was one of my favorite things I ever wrote.

For me, it was all about: any time you do anything and you’re with Bob, it’s better than anything you would do on your own. Any normal thing, like going out to eat — when you do it with Bob, it’s just better.

I think something that he instilled in me is this commitment to have everything just be great. Everything he does should be great. Going out to a meal, hanging out at a bar, watching a football game — everything should be great about it.

There’s this expected greatness in everything you do, and every moment should be the best moment of that thing you’re doing at that time. Every time you go into a studio and record an album, every collage you make — everything should be great.

I feel like, in some ways, I take that with me in everything I do. In my life now, I want everything to be great. I want every person I meet to be great. I want my doctor to be great. I want my job to be great. What it is that he exudes? There must be some word.

Possibility?
Yeah, that’s a good one. You know that tonight could be the greatest night of our lives every time you’re around him. So, yeah, “possibility” is a good word. His commitment to excellence.

I know that Matt and Joe mentioned this [in your interviews], but I don’t know if people realize how hard that guy works. He puts in the work with everything, and I think that’s one of the reasons why the current lineup of Guided by Voices is so successful. Because he’s surrounding himself with others who do the same. Their commitment to do the work is always there, whereas maybe with some previous cases, it wasn’t always there with every member.

In this current lineup, you do the work because you’ve watched Bob do the work all these years. And I think that’s what’s producing some of the best music of all time.

I want to respect the mystique around his process. Still, I’m curious as to your insights into not only how hard he works, but the way he works across artistic disciplines.
When we would travel on the road, typically, I was his roommate. A lot of times, we traveled together in a separate vehicle. And that notebook is out, you know. He’s working nonstop. If he buys a couple of magazines, he’s cutting things out and dropping them in to find the right fit on a collage.

It’s just a constant thing. His mind is working on all these things at all times — as long as I’ve known him and been close to him.

There was that line in the Watch Me Jumpstart documentary, where [GBV biographer and onetime member] Jim Greer says, “I don’t know what he’s like when he’s at home with his wife and kids — but this music, this is just what he does. He just does it. That line has obviously stuck with me all these years later.

As a highly emotional person, you strike me as one, too.
Yeah, I am, 100%.

Is it hard moving through the world like that?
Yeah, it has definitely created its issues along the way. But I don’t know, I guess what I’ve learned is the joy parts. Those moments of joy definitely make it all worth it to me. When it comes to my daughter, it’s hard keeping my emotions in check. Anytime I talk to her or I worry about her or anything like that, the joy I’ve experienced with her far outweighs anything else.

I don’t have kids, but I love hearing about how kids’ personalities develop — comparing and contrasting them to their parents’.
She’s somebody who doesn’t realize how much energy and positivity exudes from her. Who doesn’t realize that when other people are around her, she exudes something that people want to be a part of.

You know, today’s generation — the Covid kids and things like that — I think a lot of things have happened where they don’t have some of the confidence that maybe they would have had. She sends me music all the time; I send her music all the time. A love of music is something that she and I share a lot, and it’s definitely a way that she and I connect.

She lives in Portland, Oregon, and I try to see her three or four times a year. About a year ago, I was visiting her on a trip, and she said, “I’ve been listening to a lot of Guided by Voices lately.” I just thought, She’s being nice to her dad.

Then, all of a sudden, she quoted lyrics from a song. And it blew my mind. I was like, Wait, what? It was from “As We Go Up, We Go Down” [from 1995’s Alien Lanes.] “I can’t terrorize/I see terror in your eyes.” I was like, “Did you really just quote Bob Pollard lyrics to your dad?”

What else is going on in your life, whether related to Robert and GBV or not?
I still try to get out and see music a lot. When I go to a show, I feel like I’m in an environment where I’m with a whole bunch of like-minded people.

You know that line in [Stephen Trask’s] “Midnight Radio” from [the soundtrack to 1999’s] Hedwig and the Angry Inch, “All the misfits, and the losers”? I don’t necessarily think of myself like that, but there’s this collective of indie rock fans, and when I go to a show and see a band, I still feel like I’m part of something — that I’m with my people in some ways.

I’m a big Snail Mail fan. I recently saw her with Dinosaur Jr. and thought it was great. I saw Sharp Pins. I saw Mannequin Pussy; I really liked that show. I go see a lot of shows that [Superchunk and Bob Mould bassist] Jason Narducy plays in, because Jason and I have been friends for many years.

Tell me about what you do in IT.
I’m the CTO [chief technology officer] at WiscNet. I’ve been very lucky to be a part of this organization for a long period of time. I left and then came back.

This is also the place that I worked at when I did all of my tour managing, and they were very kind to make several different concessions — whether it was using all my vacation time to tour, or working on a part time schedule, where I worked 40 hours a week, but built my hours so I could take extra time to tour. They always let me do it, and I always appreciated that.

WiscNet is a Wisconsin state nonprofit. It’s the State Research and Education Network, and we provide network services to K-12, library systems, municipalities, private colleges, universities, technical colleges. We connect the network for the nonprofits and education parts of Wisconsin.

Now, I have a big title; as of a year ago, I came back here to be the CTO. That was part of, OK, I need to start having a career. But I think one regret I have is that I never got to tour manage this group.

Obviously, I spent a lot of time with Doug and Kevin over the years, tour managing, but I think I would have had a blast and loved being on the road with this version of Guided by Voices. I love Mark; I love [GBV producer] Travis [Harrison]; I love [guitarist] Bobby [Bare Jr.].

Sometimes I’ll meet up with them for a weekend, for a couple of shows, and I’ll be like, I really miss this. I wish I was doing this every day with these guys.