Latecomers to camp Malkmus – those for whom this is no more than a second album – could be forgiven for grossly simplifying his appeal. Quirky, indie, oddball man from America with permanent drawn-on half grin, a satchel of mid-strength hum-able tunes and comfy slacks? It’s just that Rivers Cuomo from Weezer (or heaven forbid, that pointless twunt from Wheatus) minus some smugness and plus a few extra years, right? Granddad geek rock? Maybe, time will tell, but his history is lot more revered than his eponymous debut solo album may have had you believe. His years at the helm of indie-godfathers Pavement were rife with subversive melodies, contagious choruses and random, uncharted side-effects. Wonderful exhilarating leftfield pop. Simple as that, only more so.
But then his debut post-Pavement record did itself a slight disservice by dawdling, the melodies became too lazy, and all that from a master of the lazy melody. It wasn’t all bad, in fact to call it bad would be a touch mean, but then it really wasn’t all good like this album is. He’s done a bit of a pirouette, grabbing a new band (The Jicks) mid-swirl, shaking off the excess creative flotsam and landing back on his feet, looking a bit dizzy, but back on his feet nonetheless. And rest assured, there will be no cheap digs nor parallels drawn between Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks and Frank Black & The Catholics here, not this time anyhow. But hopefully that ever-imminent possibility will continue to haunt him at night, thus keeping him on his toes.
It’s the usual heat-distorted concentration of psychedelia, 70’s rock, country and 60’s beat-pop stewed in a vat of Americana at an awkward angle, though things seem a lot clearer than they once were, like this sample’s given him a cleaner bill of health. But he pushes like he didn’t on that last album, as ‘(Do Not Feed The) Oyster’ builds to a head for example, while also languishing like he’s just stirred from siesta, take ‘Water And A Seat’. So hitting both gentle extremes all without wavering down the middle. The crux of his personality naturally lies in his lyrics, possibly best displayed by this snatch of ‘Vanessa From Queens’: “There’s aggression in the air this morning, got your ballerina tights around my head, in a samurai pose on the bed”. He’s truly a light-hearted light that’ll never go out. And this is as pretty an album as could be.