[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Church on White” – Stephen Malkmus
(Words/music: Stephen Malkmus, available on Stephen Malkmus, Matador 2001) 

“Church on White” bears two of Stephen Malkmus’ trademarks.  First, Malkmus plays with the words in his lyrics, using homophones and twisted meanings to bend phrases in different directions.  Whether it’s the possibility of a double meaning (“pot” in the first line likely referring to the one on the stove, but the “do the fakers drop out” line leaves the possibility for “pot” being the drug) or the twisting of pronunciations (“carry on” and “carrion” in the second verse and “alive” and “a lie” in the chorus, “Church on White” never gets close to being a linear narrative.  Instead, Malkmus offers something more surreal – a series of disjointed images running through his brain while walking through lower Manhattan.  Even without a storyline, Malkmus draws a rough sketch of these characters as overwhelmed yet cautiously optimistic; where others might paint a well-defined portrait, Malkmus lets all of the colors bleed together, making it difficult to discern where one ends and the next begins.

The second discerning characteristic is the guitar riff.  Even though the riff isn’t as fast or jagged as many of Pavement’s, the main guitar riff lets notes pop out at different times.  These aren’t misplayed – rather, they are just unexpected – a high note in the middle of a lower phrase or an entire chord strummed in the middle of an arpeggio.  However, after the rolling triplets in the main riff give way to the overdriven chords in the pre-chorus, the lead guitar takes control of the melody, playing it expressively with lots of vibrato.  It’s this lead phrase in the chorus and in the outro where the guitar articulates the unspoken feelings in these characters. In a recent article on indirectness in Spoon’s music (and indie rock in general), Tom Ewing suggested (somewhat skeptically) how Pavement used words “as a misdirection, giving the ache or bittersweet delight in the guitars space to get under your skin.”  In this case, the words set up the guitar’s communicative qualities; without the conversation derailed by double meanings and a lack of a narrative thread, the guitar can’t become the unspoken subtext.  In other words, without a failed attempt at communication, we can’t consider the possibilities for what isn’t said.

More on Stephen Malkmus: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm