The new Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks album,
Real Emotional Trash, opens with an ominous guitar squall before throwing out this lyrical admission: "Of all my stoned digressions/Some have mutated into the truth."
The truth has always been an elusive thing when it comes to Malkmus, a singularly obtuse figure who seemingly stumbled into a musical career that´s still kicking nearly 20 years later. If the whole thing is an accident, what an accident it´s been.
As the dude behind ´90s Indie Rock flag-bearers Pavement, Malkmus seemed in a perpetual state of inscrutability both emotionally and musically the flip side to the era´s more earnest Alt-Rock practitioners. Producer Nigel Godrich describes the dynamic in Rob Janovich´s Pavement biography, Perfect Sound Forever: "In the 1960s the Beatles and the Rolling Stones dominated everything and they were like two sides of the same coin. In the 1990s it was like Nirvana and Pavement the same thing, the establishment and the antiestablishment."
That might be overstating the case a tad, but Godrich is on to something: Malkmus seemed incapable of embracing the more ludicrous aspects of "playing the game." Besides, as Robert Christgau aptly noted, "They´ll never truly sell out until they take voice lessons."
Of course, that never happened. Malkmus never seemed truly at ease in Pavement bowing to audience/industry expectations and band commitments weren´t the guy´s strong suits. Pavement ended without as much as a phone call to the other members, let alone an official announcement.
Which brings us back to Malkmus´ fourth endeavor with his revolving backing band the Jicks: Real Emotional Trash might be his best post-Pavement record to date still reveling in stoned, Prog Folk psychedelia, yet heavier and more cohesive, a shift no doubt influenced by the addition of former Sleater-Kinney drumming goddess Janet Weiss. Malkmus´ wordplay has rarely been as intriguingly oblique, and his guitar playing which, like everything else he does, seems tempered by laconic non-commitment flies off in all kinds of expressive directions, one moment channeling Black Sabbath, the next Velvet Underground.
"We´ve been hinting at those moves on the other records," Malkmus says by phone from his home in Portland, Ore. "The recording style and the tenor of the times demanded it. I wanted to be a little more in your face on the guitar angle. That´s the kind of music I listen to. Of course, there are some ear breaks in there with three-minute nice songs, too. But there´s some more spread-out stuff. Janet´s good for that."
Of the "spread-out stuff," the 10-minute title track is the album´s undeniably gorgeous centerpiece. It opens as a mid-tempo Blues-inflected ditty about adulthood (Malkmus, 41, is now married with two young kids) before veering off into cosmic guitar freak-outs that would be right at home amid Wilco´s more adventurous, Nels Cline-led sonic reveries.
"I wrote it like a totally arranged song, but it kinda seems like it´s branching off in improvisational ways," he says. "Other (songs) in the studio you say, What do you feel like playing now?´ Like this Baltimore´ song: The song ends and I´m like, Let´s just play at 4/4, Who-style generic guitar riff.´ You know, like, that was decided on the spot. It wasn´t really my goal in life to have that. But once you decide that, that´s what it is, I guess. It didn´t take too much preconception. The best of the Rock & Roll, even if it doesn´t come across that way because of overdubs and mixing, it comes directly from your heart through your fingers and on to the record."
"Elmo Delmo" is another highlight it sounds like one of Lee Ranaldo´s mellow Sonic Youth excursions, guitars intertwining with blissful, melancholic glee as lyrical fragments like "shamrock justice" add an absurdist element via Malkmus´ bong-stunted, high-pitched vocal flow.
"It´s basically acid Folk," he says. "We were probably thinking more along the lines of a band like Trees, from England, or Mellow Candle or even Led Zeppelin. That´s kind of our template, but no matter what you´re probably going to end up sounding like Sonic Youth."
Real Emotional Trash is the latest Malkmus effort nurtured by Matador Records, which has released everything he has done since Pavement´s 1991 landmark breakthrough, Slanted and Enchanted. It´s likely one of the longest sustained relationships of Malkmus´ adult life.
"I didn´t have any problems and they didn´t want to fire me," he says. "It never really broke big-time like it could have, but they´ve always treated me with respect. I´m really grateful for that. Interpol and Cat Power have flown over me I´m eating their dust but they still like me. It´s nice."
Talking to Malkmus is a lot like listening to his music: meandering, irony-laced digressions that threaten to collapse the entire endeavor interspersed with moments of incisive wit and genuine feeling. (Locally relevant side note: He´s impressively well informed on the chances of Jay Bruce making the Cincinnati Reds roster this year.)
Speaking of genuine feeling, Malkmus is caught off guard when told of the many late-teens and early-twentysomethings who were singing along with the old Pavement songs during his set at last summer´s Pitchfork Music Festival.
"Thanks for blowing my mind," he says. "I haven´t really come to what that means. I think it´s cool. The band is there, and it´s nice that it´s sort of part of history now and people can go back to it and hear it."
STEPHEN MALKMUS AND THE JICKS play The Southgate House on Sunday.
