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Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, "Pig Lib"
Matador
Invariably, the image of an artist has to have a measured effect ontheir music, be it a positive or negative one. Some bands are all imageand can't muster a good song to meet it, while others have full soundsand amazing songs but absolutely no image. Pavement certainly fit inthe latter category, a band that had so little self image they couldn'teven properly announce their own demise. With Pavement gone, StephenMalkmus emerged from the ashes to make music that is all image, littlesubstance, and completely mediocre. What with the pin-up shots formen's magazines and interviews about his sex life, it seems Mr. Malkmushas had little time to formulate anything besides a passable effort onhis second solo LP, which also marks the first time he's shared thebill with his backing band the Jicks. He still has a knack for quirky,understated lyrics, and no one can take that away from him, but themusic on Pig Libis in stylistic shambles. Some fans have tried to explain it away withterms like "indie prog" and lengthy descriptions of the darker imagery,but they can't describe around the fact that it's dull. True, Malkmusgets closer to the Pavement sound on this record only in that it'ssloppier than his last release. The band does sound more in tune witheach other, like these songs are creations of the whole crew, but theytrip along like a wounded animal rather than stroll or strut. From theplayful nature of "Water and a Seat," with its call and answer andcacophonous backing vocals to the too long jam of "1% of One," Malkmusdoes sound more comfortable in his voice and the melodies are prettycatchy. That makes it all the more disappointing when there's no payoff. The songs that have promise are too short, and the ones that havenowhere to go get there and stay there far too long. I started gettinginto the album a little on "(Do Not Feed The) Oyster," but was turnedaway by the drum roll break into jam territory. All over the album areannoying sounds and noises, usually the overly campy keyboards fromMike Clark and Malkmus himself. Anchoring it all together is anoverwhelming feeling that this record exists only as a marketing tool,released just so Malkmus can say he "stretched his legs" on a releaseand "tried something different." Malkmus' image is the only thing thatholds this record together and the reason why rabid fans have alreadybought every copy on the shelves in the local record shop. For mostfans, the man can do no wrong. For me, he certainly tried to do wrongall over this record, and sometimes he succeeded beyond all doubt orreason.
Invariably, the image of an artist has to have a measured effect ontheir music, be it a positive or negative one. Some bands are all imageand can't muster a good song to meet it, while others have full soundsand amazing songs but absolutely no image. Pavement certainly fit inthe latter category, a band that had so little self image they couldn'teven properly announce their own demise. With Pavement gone, StephenMalkmus emerged from the ashes to make music that is all image, littlesubstance, and completely mediocre. What with the pin-up shots formen's magazines and interviews about his sex life, it seems Mr. Malkmushas had little time to formulate anything besides a passable effort onhis second solo LP, which also marks the first time he's shared thebill with his backing band the Jicks. He still has a knack for quirky,understated lyrics, and no one can take that away from him, but themusic on Pig Libis in stylistic shambles. Some fans have tried to explain it away withterms like "indie prog" and lengthy descriptions of the darker imagery,but they can't describe around the fact that it's dull. True, Malkmusgets closer to the Pavement sound on this record only in that it'ssloppier than his last release. The band does sound more in tune witheach other, like these songs are creations of the whole crew, but theytrip along like a wounded animal rather than stroll or strut. From theplayful nature of "Water and a Seat," with its call and answer andcacophonous backing vocals to the too long jam of "1% of One," Malkmusdoes sound more comfortable in his voice and the melodies are prettycatchy. That makes it all the more disappointing when there's no payoff. The songs that have promise are too short, and the ones that havenowhere to go get there and stay there far too long. I started gettinginto the album a little on "(Do Not Feed The) Oyster," but was turnedaway by the drum roll break into jam territory. All over the album areannoying sounds and noises, usually the overly campy keyboards fromMike Clark and Malkmus himself. Anchoring it all together is anoverwhelming feeling that this record exists only as a marketing tool,released just so Malkmus can say he "stretched his legs" on a releaseand "tried something different." Malkmus' image is the only thing thatholds this record together and the reason why rabid fans have alreadybought every copy on the shelves in the local record shop. For mostfans, the man can do no wrong. For me, he certainly tried to do wrongall over this record, and sometimes he succeeded beyond all doubt orreason.
