Stephen Malkmus Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
Stephen Malkmus' solo career seems to be settling into a pattern of alternating between skewed, spiky pop albums bearing his lone credit and long, languid collections of jams with the Jicks -- as 2005's Face the Truth belonged to the former category and its 2008 follow-up, Real Emotional Trash, fits neatly into the latter. That's not to say that this is a retread of the lazily intriguing, formless Pig Lib. Where Pig Lib wandered aimlessly, adrift on its insular guitars, Real Emotional Trash is focused and propulsive, even if the band invariably circles around a point instead of tackling it directly. Perhaps some of this precision is due to the presence of former Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss as the Jicks' new anchor -- she grounds them and pushes them harder, giving Malkmus a solid foundation he's never quite had either in Pavement or on his own -- but Malkmus also sounds clear-headed here, as any new father of two should be. He's shed the haziness that plagued Pig Lib, yet he's still intoxicated by the sounds he can make, usually with his guitar but also with his mouth, as his words have never sounded so much like a fanciful collection of sounds, each syllable bouncing off the next in the melody. He sings like he plays his guitar, twisting and turning, grooving on the very sound of it all, and it's hard not to ride along on his wave. In a decade when indie rock has been dominated by preciously plucked six-strings and symphonies, it's rather thrilling to hear the surge of sound on Real Emotional Trash. It, as much as any modern record could be, is a love letter to the guitar, but Malkmus' love of rock & roll arcana has pushed early influences of the Fall and Sonic Youth to the side in favor of the seriously weird, often maddeningly uneven, post-hippie ramble of obscure psychedelia and acid rock. With this incarnation of the Jicks, Malkmus has finally created his own version of Mad River, the Groundhogs, or the Coloured Balls, a band that is casually yet deeply idiosyncratic and certainly not to everybody's taste, including legions of Pavement fans who may miss the mess he conjured a decade ago. Frankly, it's their loss if they don't want to follow Malkmus down this road, as Real Emotional Trash is invigorating simply as pure sheets of sound. It's heavy on long tunes -- six of the ten weigh in at well over five minutes, with the title track pushing a bit past ten -- but each cut rides its own rhythm, with the shorter numbers -- the sprightly, bubblegummy "Gardenia" and easy-rolling "We Can't Help You" -- acting as palette cleansers. Real Emotional Trash isn't quite the Jicks' spin on Wowee Zowee -- it explores one place thoroughly instead of wandering all over the map -- but it has that same untrammeled spirit that made Pavement's third album so addictive, and like that masterpiece, it may be a bit of a litmus test among fans, as a bit of time is required for it to grow. That, more than anything -- more than the heady '70s guitar worship on display, more than the warm growl of the amplifiers -- gives Real Emotional Trash a welcome old-fashioned feeling: it's an album meant to be discovered and lived with, revealing its jokes and its beauty over time. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Considering the seemingly plainspoken title of his third solo album, plus the extracurricular knowledge that the former Pavement leader has settled down and is a first-time father, it would be easy to assume that Face the Truth is where Stephen Malkmus finally turns into a self-conscious adult, ironing out the kinks in his music, tempering his humor, and starts making classic rock records for Mojo readers. Frankly, such a leap backward toward respectability doesn't seem all that far-fetched in light of the meandering, monochromatic Pig Lib, which suggested that Malkmus was standing on the verge of becoming a modern-day Tony McPhee, churning out guitar jams to an ever more selective audience. Knee-jerk assumptions shouldn't always be trusted, however, since Face the Truth isn't plain or predictable at all: it's a vibrant return to form. Malkmus is making records as he did in the heyday of Pavement, treating the Jicks as a backing band that can contribute a little in the studio but is designed for the stage. He lays down most of the instrumental tracks himself, overdubs acoustic guitars, banjos, and sitars, dabbles in synths, and plays around with the mixes so they bend, twist, slur, and suddenly explode. Only on the misleading first single, "Post-Paint Boy" -- a sly swipe at modern art -- does he sound as conventional as he did on Pig Lib, but it's sharper than most of that record, and it acts as a good anchor to this gleefully excessive album. Malkmus is driven by the same mischievous spirit that fueled his first solo album, but where that record had a proudly impish, even silly, bent, Face the Truth has an air of mystery. It's not so much that Malkmus is inscrutable -- a criticism often lazily leveled against him -- but that he's made the album with the sole desire of amusing himself, indulging his whims in a way reminiscent of the wild detours of Wowee Zowee. But Face the Truth isn't just tighter than that album -- its 40 minutes zoom by -- it's concentrated, with each track packed until it's ready to burst. Yet for as indulgent as the oversaturated mixes are, they're never overstuffed: each instrument, each overdub, each blip and squawk is there for a reason, and no song, not even the epic eight-minute sprawl of "No More Shoes," lasts longer than necessary. One of Malkmus' greatest gifts as a record-maker has been his arrangements, which are initially bewilderingly dense, but they slowly unveil to revealing their intricacies so that on repeated plays it's easy to marvel at how the music crests and peaks. Those loose yet exacting arrangements were missing on the straight and narrow Pig Lib, but he's returned to that strength here while marrying it to a greater sense of sonic adventure, and it makes Face the Truth quite thrilling and rewarding. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Stephen Malkmus wanted to bill his first solo album to the Jicks, but was persuaded by Matador to release it under his name. As it turns out, the delay in billing was fortuitous, since Pig Lib, Malkmus' second solo effort and the first to share a co-billing with the Jicks, sounds much more like the work of a band than its predecessor. Which, to be honest, is a bit of a mixed blessing, since this record has all the attributes and trapping of a group who feels comfortable playing together. Unlike the ramshackle crew of Pavement, who never could walk a straight line, the Jicks easily follow his every whim, whether it's on winding guitar jams or breezy, midtempo numbers. This is likely what Malkmus was seeking in a band, since the essential tone, tenor and aesthetic of his music hasn't changed since he disbanded Pavement. What has changed is the feel. No longer is it sprawling, messy and unpredictable; it's relaxed, meandering and comfortable. Strangely enough, the jokiness and irrepressibly giddy spirit of the debut has been subdued completely, replaced by a hazy seriousness spiked occasionally by Malkmus' notoriously wry wit, and even that has been tempered slightly, since the words and, to a lesser extent, the songcraft has taken a backseat to playing with the band. Now that he has a band he wants to play with, he jams, finally making the Groundhogs and Lobby Lloyd tribute he's been threatening for years. And it's not bad. But, apart from the wonderfully elastic, surprising �Us," it doesn't offer anything striking or resonant. True, it breathes more than either of the last two Pavement records, but only a handful of songs are of the standard of its predecessor -- the light, lyrical �Vanessa from Queens," �Animal Midnight" with its brilliantly nonsensical coda, the succinct �Craw Song" and the epic jam �1% of One" (not as good as the versions played on the first Jicks tour, though; much like �The Hexx," it's been streamlined and isn't as nervy as it was live). Pig Lib is hurt by the odd combination of friendly interplay and a deliberate somberness creates an album that is at once enjoyable but not particularly captivating. It is surely creates the most consistent mood of any Malkmus album, but part of what made him so much fun was his rough edges, jokes, mistakes, thow-aways and indulgent whims, all of which are sadly missing here. [Actually, they've all been exiled to the five-track bonus EP included with the initial pressings of Pig Lib. A jumble of outtakes and live tracks, this is loose, funny, rocking and poetic, everything that great Malkmus music is -- and it only hammers home what's wrong with the proper album.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine , All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Much like the Pixies' Trompe Le Monde, Pavement's swan song, Terror Twilight, sounded a lot like a disguised solo album from the group's chief singer/songwriter, Stephen Malkmus. The album's polished production and earnest, ambitious songwriting -- not to mention lack of Scott Kannberg songs -- sounded miles away from the playful, slightly chaotic rock that made albums like Slanted & Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain so exciting. Yet Malkmus' actual solo debut, aptly named Stephen Malkmus, reclaims some of the energetic creativity of Pavement's best albums. In fact, it sounds like the most fun he's had in a studio since Wowee Zowee. This may be because he didn't have to deal with the confines and expectations of a new Pavement album; Malkmus didn't originally plan to release the album through Matador, which possibly removed some of the pressure to make a "statement" with this collection. Which is good, because instantly catchy, zany songs like "Troubbble" might not have made it to the album. Stephen Malkmus begins with a rush of these vibrantly playful songs, including "Phantasies," a fey mix of falsetto vocals, pennywhistles, handclaps, marimbas, and other bizarre musical non sequiturs, and "JoJo's Jacket," a whimsical, stream-of-consciousness ode to Yul Brenner: "Perhaps you saw me in Westworld/I acted like a robotic cowboy/It was my best role/I cannot deny/I felt right home deep inside/that electronic carcass." Like most of the album, these songs take a few aspects of what made Pavement great and magnify them. The beautiful, chiming "Church on White" is one of Malkmus' best sweeping, emotional guitar epics since "Grounded" or "Fin"; "Vague Space" and "Deado"'s sweet, quirky romanticism balances earnestness and irony in the way Pavement tried to on Terror Twilight, but avoids that album's oddly distant sound. And while the surprisingly straightforward rocker "Discretion Grove" and "Trojan Curfew" -- a pretty, countrified ballad about the Trojan War that rhymes "doric arch" with "pyhrric march" -- could have fit on Pavement's later works, Stephen Malkmus does feature some twists and turns that differentiate the album from Malkmus' old band. The groovy keyboards laced through songs like "Pink India" and "Jennifer and the Ess-Dog," a funny, poignant ballad about a neo-hippie couple going their separate ways, give the album different textures than those Pavement explored. Likewise, the Stonesy tale about being a pirate, "The Hook" -- which sounds like the ship's crew is listening to a bar band while taking a rum break -- just doesn't seem like the type of song Pavement would have recorded at the end of their career. Actually, the song that sounds the most like late-'90s Pavement, the chugging album opener "Black Book," is the most out of place with the rest of Stephen Malkmus' fun, lighthearted tone. Though placing most of the zippy, instantly catchy songs near the top of the album works against it somewhat, as a whole it's refreshingly free of the typical solo debut's gravity and earnestness. By keeping things light, Stephen Malkmus -- the album and, very likely, the person -- defies heavy analysis from critics and fans. No, it's not quite the same as another Pavement album, but its literate, funny eclecticism is almost as irresistible. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
