Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

Home boy, Stephen Malkmus

Thursday, August 25th, 2011 | interviewZ, musiX, pdX | 2 Comments

I was recently asked by Spin Magazine to hang out at Stephen Malkmus’ house and talk to him about random objects that were ineteresting or held some sort of significance to him. I closed the e-mail, changed my underwear and schemed how I would call in sick to my day job in two weeks. “There’s something going around,” I schemed.

I rarely get starstruck these days—only Rhett Miller holds that distinction—but that’s only because he’s so darned good-looking. Malkmus is a pretty handsome fellow, too. And aside from a few more gray hairs, he’s hardly aged. But I wasn’t starstruck—this was more like, “I’m going to hang out with Stephen Malkmus. At his home. What?”

I walked up to his door, which was attached to a very large, very old house in a cluster of other very large, very old houses near a popular park in Portland. His wife, artist Jessica Jackson Hutchins, answered the door. “He’s on his way,” she informed me. The videographer and photographers were already there trying to decide which room had the best light. It was my job to scour the home for quirky trinkets that would lend themselves to even quirkier answers. While the photogs began setting up their elaborate gear, the videographer Aubree and I headed to—where else—the basement.

It was exactly what you would expect: Records, guitars, some recording equipment, old books, genius-at-work clutter. We noted the signed copy of Sterolab’s French Disko on the wall, which Malkmus would later explain: “We did a big, long tour with them in Europe—and at the end we signed records and there were tears and champagne.” Sadly, there were no half-eaten Twinkies I could sell on eBay for a couple hundred bucks. The best part about all this? I was (sort of) casing Stephen Malkmus’ home because that’s what I was supposed to be doing.

Malkmus arrived about 45 minutes later, which doesn’t really qualify as “on his way” (man, he is such a slacker). He was wearing black jeans, a pair of white Adidas and a blue-and-white flannel (yes!) shirt. Atop his head sat a Detroit Pistons cap. Malkmus disappeared into the kitchen, and I could hear him and Jessica chatting, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like married-couple talk. He re-emerged and we all introduced ourselves. I think I was the only one who was really familiar with/enjoyed Pavement and/or the Jicks. After some small-talk, Malkmus and I decided to scour the house to find more what-nots and what-have-yous.

We headed back down to the basement. He rummaged through a closet and pulled out a few things, including a small plaster sculpture of his head as a young child. I pointed out the Stereolab record. We made our way back upstairs. His two kids were not there, but the tell-tale signs were: toys, a nook with children’s books, scattered Cheerios on the kitchen floor. Malkmus disappeared upstairs and came back down with a framed photo of his mother as a young girl, a Jamaal Charles Jersey and some tape reels that included demos from Pavement’s Terror Twilight. After we rounded up what we thought were enough “curios” as he called them, we ended up back in the kitchen to talk about the new Jicks record Mirror Traffic and, of course, working with Beck.

“He gave me a call about two and a half years ago and he was just getting started in producing, and he’s like, ‘I’m a producer now, and I’d like to work with you,’ Malkmus explained. “I ran it by the band because we were thinking of ideas, and everyone really wanted to work with a proper producer—I think they were getting tired of the sort of willy-nilly way we were doing it.” Malkmus was making himself breakfast—English style—a fried egg and tomato on toast. Prior to that he had managed to sneak out for a smoke, which truly made it an English breakfast. It looked delicious … the food, not the cigarette.

“We did recording of the basic tracks in five or six days,” he continued. “It was pretty painless, and [Beck] was positive emotionally about everything and pretty mellow like a musician. He said, ‘I might be better at this than judging my own stuff.’ That’s one of the keys, I think, from the standpoint of the band—you want someone who can be like that, that doesn’t want it to be their thing, and can see what’s good about you. I don’t think everyone would be right for it, but he definitely seems to have a talent for it. And I think he’s going to be pretty busy.”

It’s true. Beck’s touches aren’t ham-fisted. Mirror Traffic is far less bombastic than 2008’s Real Emotional Trash, but maintains a warm quality that Malkmus was shooting for. “I didn’t really know what I wanted, I just wanted it to sound good—have a good fidelity that we liked. That’s what I was more worried about—having it sound too digital or modern.” Best of all, Joanna Bolme’s bass is high in the mix—a good thing, as she’s truly a secret weapon (listen to Quasi’s American Gong for proof).

Recording stalled while Malkmus was out for a year on the Pavement cash-grab extravaganza. During that time he was getting antsy, as were the rest of the Jicks. We convened at the kitchen table, where he chatted between bites. (”Sorry I’m eating while we do this.”) The band finished things up this year and released the album’s first single “Senator” back in early June, a song with a memorable chorus that was accidentally timely in the wake of the Anthony Weiner political boner.

“The chorus is just what I sang for the part, and I just made that up—so, I don’t know, that just came from my subconscious,” he explained. “It wasn’t really like shooting fish in a barrel, to tease guys like that, or to be something that would be on The Daily Show.”

The Jicks released Mirror Traffic on August 23, the final album to feature longtime Jick/pal Janet Weiss, who will be focusing most of her attention on Wild Flag. Joggers drummer Jake Morris has joined the lineup, rounded out by Bolme and guitarist-keyboardist Mike Clark. The record is less jammy, filled with well-crafted pop that manages to keep Malkmus’ quirks intact. It might be Malkmus’ best, most Pavement post-Pavement release.

“For me I decided to make it a little more about melody. That could be what I’m better at. I can try to be a big shredder psych-rocker guy, but I’ll let the memorable vocal melodies be the thing you take from the song.”

Jake the photographer came in and told us they were set up and ready to go. I headed toward the bathroom. “Umm, there’s no toilet paper in there, but I can run upstairs and grab some if you need it.” As much as I wanted to tell Stephen Malkmus to grab me some toilet paper, I assured him it was only No. 1. When I entered the living room, he was seated, surrounded by his own artifacts—among them the plaster head, the Charles jersey (a gift from Pavement bandmate Bob Nastanovich) and his diploma from the University of Virginia, where he got involved in college radio and punk rock in a small city in an even smaller red state. (”It was sort of like a mini John Hughes movie—where you would find weirdos and freaks, and you’d be like, ‘Oh, you’re my people,’ amid the uniformity.”)

Malkmus has come a long way since then. He’s come an even longer way since the day his grandmother sculpted a plaster statue of his head. But not much has changed, and that’s a good thing. He’s still mindful of the DIY, punk aesthetic. He still reads poetry from obscure avant-writers like Louis Zukofsky and Tom Clark, who did the cover art for Mirror Traffic. And he still makes interesting music that means a lot to a lot of people. He’s not hip, but he’s not irrelevant either. Throughout the morning Malkmus joked that he’s too old for this or too old for that, or questioned his coolness. I think it’s something he must think about as he eases into middle age.

Of the dozen or so objects we end up talking about, it turns out that one of Malkmus’ most prized is a drawing by Don Van Vliet, aka Captain Beefheart.

“He is an inspirational musical genius,” Malkmus said. He wasn’t smiling, or even smirking when he said this. “You know, he played this really insane music that sounds like outsider music, but it was all planned out. He knew what he was doing, and he still made it sound like it was completely original. To me it’s an inspiration that somebody can be such a weirdo, but also be a calm artist.”

That statement right there speaks volumes. I think Malkmus is going to be around for a while. He’ll definitely continue to be one of the most relevant irrelevant artists of his generation. And he really is a cool dude.

“Senator” - Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

“Tune Grief” - Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

Like The Days of Lore on Facebook. Follow TDoL on Twitter.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

You get 10

Monday, December 15th, 2008 | musiX | 9 Comments

I’ve been wrestling with the whole year-end list thing since I saw them popping up in November. Some makes lists of 50. Others try 33. Twenty-five is always a good number. So is 20. I’ve decided to go with 10 (plus a few honorable mentions) … any more than that would be five too many. And I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to resemble yours. Or his. Or hers. Or theirs. That’s probably a good thing. Click on the cover to buy the album. And let the civil discourse begin …

10. Yes No Yes No Yes No - The Girls: I grew up during the early days of MTV when bands like Missing Persons, Devo and The Cars were coming in loud and clear in technicolor. The five men who are The Girls take the innocence, and the excess, of ’80s new wave and power pop without resorting to kitsch—then they grind it up with giddy Blank Generation riffs. What can I say? It’s damn good fun. “Not I” is the immediate standout, but “Who Are the Forgetters” is The Girls’ secret weapon that will sneak up on you and threaten to wear out the repeat button.

“Who Are the Forgetters” - The Girls

9. Nevergreens Vol. 1 and 2 - Los Fancy Free: Mexico City’s Los Fancy Free has been at it for years. Martin Thulin (aka Menonita Rock) was born to Swedish hippies in a Scandanavian Mennonite community in Northern Mexico. It reflects in the music—a rock outfit that relies just as much on flower power as it does on stomp boxes, with lyrics in English and Spanish. This year, the band released a double-disc gem. It’s a long and winding trip through the desert aboard the Partridge Family bus with pockets full of peyote. And they do a 10-minute psych-punk version of “Sultans of Swing.” Rules.

“Money Money Money” - Los Fancy Free

8. Rising Down - The Roots: The Roots continue to do all the right things by pointing out the wrong in America. Rising Down is less organic than past albums, and it’s definitely one of the group’s feistiest, taking issue with, well, everything: global warming, school shootings and the black experience in general. The biting social commentary is given weight by the always-steady back beat of ?uestlove and a revolving door of guest MCs including Talib Kweli and Mos Def. Should have made more lists. I’ll take The Roots over Lil Wayne’s haughty ways any day.

“Lost Desire” - The Roots

7. The Airing of Grievances - Titus Andronicus: Jersey’s Titus Andronicus punched me in the face and then kicked me in the ribs. Then they barked at me about Camus’ existentialist ways. Guitars and drums clang together like they were recorded in a tin shed while frontman Patrick Stickles screams like Conor Oberst on a whiskey bender. It’s actually a near-exact translation of their live show. If the E Street Band hopped a train to CBGB and sat in with The Ramones, you’d get Titus Andronicus which, fittingly, takes its name from William Shakespeare’s most violent tragedy.

“Joset of Nazareth’s Blues” - Titus Andronicus

6. S/T - Vampire Weekend: I heard “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” and, slightly annoyed, went on with my business. But a friend made me listen to the entire album. At gunpoint. I started humming “A-Punk” and “Oxford Comma” (which, sadly, I do give a fuck about). I began getting annoyed when critics focused more on the band’s Ivy League pedigree and its proclivity for sweaters and Sperry Top-Siders. Silly critics. It’s a smart, fun record—there, I said it. I hope Vampire Weekend keeps making decent albums; unless they’re willing to try new things, their Afro-indie pop could wear thin fast.

“Oxford Comma” - Vampire Weekend

5. Real Emotional Trash - Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks: Stephen Malkmus still has a way with words. He also wields a mighty axe, and it’s evident that Malkmus is indulging himself here, experimenting with strung-out epics that are heavy on the guitar. But Real Emotional Trash is still a pop gem, made even sunnier by the warm production. Even if he goes for the hippie jam (the 10-minute title track), or the stoner riff (”Dragonfly Pie”) Malkmus returns to those shimmering pop melodies with “Cold Son” and “We Can’t Help You,” the latter on which Janet Weiss’ vocals melt me every time.

“We Can’t Help You” - Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks

4. Anonymous - Nothing People: This three-piece hails from a tiny sliver of land in Northern California. I always picture them as these sort of mad scientists that hole themselves up with an array of vintage gear and effects inside this fortress-like laboratory among the wind-swept olive groves. Anonymous is Nothing People’s first full-length after releasing a handful of excellent 7-inches. The band makes controlled chaos where echo-y vocals quiver over distortion and feedback and occasional drum loops and keyboards. In fact, if I didn’t know them better, I’d say they were not of this earth.

“I-5″ (live) - Nothing People

3. Blame it On Gravity - Old 97’s: Full disclosure: I am a huge fan of the Old 97’s. Unhealthy huge. But, even I wasn’t too keen on this record upon initial spins; I selfishly wanted a full return to those glorious Bloodshot days. Then I began to notice Rhett Miller’s familiar bookish wordplay, which wasn’t quite there on 2004’s Drag It Up. And guitarist Ken Bethea’s leads and licks killed me. Blame it On Gravity essentially plays like a greatest hits album, tapping from the band’s 15-year history and all of their clear-cut influences—’60s Brit-pop, Replacements rawk, outlaw-country. How could it not be good?

“Here’s to the Halcyon” - Old 97’s

2. I’ll Be Lightning - Liam Finn: I wanted to hear this album because of my love for Liam’s pops. He definitely inherited Neil’s knack for writing a pretty pop song, even snagging some of his old man’s vocal phrasings in “Music Moves My Feet” and “Lead Balloon.” The young Finn plays most of the instruments here, and he isn’t afraid to throw some ugly on top of the pretty … in a very handsome sort of way. There’s always something lurking in the background to make songs like “Second Chance” and “I’ll Be Lightning” feel not-so Crowded House—not that there’s anything wrong with that.

“Lead Balloon” - Liam Finn

1. Furr - Blitzen Trapper: I gravitate toward melodies and dynamics, even production, well before lyrics begin talking to me. But Eric Earley can spin a yarn—whether it be a murder ballad in “Black River Killer” or the tale of a young man who, literally, follows his animal instincts in the title track. What’s most impressive is how naturally this band can traverses folk (”Furr”), country (”Stolen Shoes & a Rifle”) and even ramshackle garage (”Love U”). There’s even a weepy, Elton-inspired ballad in “Not Your Lover.” So good an album that I actually get a little sad when it ends.

“Black River Killer” - Blitzen Trapper

Even more to love (in no particular order):

Microcastle - Deerhunter

Evil Urges - My Morning Jacket

Dear Science - TV on the Radio

Alight of Night - Crystal Stilts

S/T - Fleet Foxes

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Search

Topics of Destruction