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“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

TAGGED UNDER: 2000s | 2001 | Matador | pavement | stephen malkmus |
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“Champagne Supernova (Live)” – Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks
(Words/music: Noel Gallagher, live at the Cat’s Cradle, 11 November 2001

From his days fronting Pavement, Stephen Malkmus has a legendary reputation in the world of alternative rock.  Over time, his reputation evolved, particularly to include the guitar heroism on his recent solo albums, but in general Malkmus is known for his sarcasm, his way with words, and his disjointed songs.  He also has a tremendous sense of humor and an acute sense of the absurd, and from the first Pavement album through his most recent solo release, his songs contain numerous non-sequiturs, nonsensical digressions, and surrealist images.  Part of digesting a Malkmus recording is deciphering his skewered viewpoint and appreciating the humor.

Malkmus’ playfulness takes centerstage on this recording of his band covering Oasis’ overblown epic.  Appropriately, Malkmus’ version teeters between mockery and reverence, ultimately striking the proper balance between the two.  As a card-carrying Oasis fan (and someone who gets upset when radio stations fade out before the guitar solo), I will still acknowledge the ridiculousness of “Champagne Supernova,” both in its extended arrangement and its lyrics.  Malkmus twists the lyrics both to mock the original (hence the reference to a Coke can pipe) and reflect on the drug-laden mid ‘90s that helped birth the song.  Despite this mockery, Malkmus giddily declares the lead guitar his “favorite part” before playing the lick perfectly.  Yes, it’s overblown and absurd, but that’s part of the song’s charm, and Malkmus capitalizes on the song’s character.  Sure, he’s tossing off lines about being a “natural Englishman” and about ecstasy “raining from the sky,” but he’s also staying faithful to the song’s arrangement.  It’s this blend of admiration and absurdity that not only captures Malkmus’ interpretation of the song, but Malkmus’ legacy as well.  Ultimately, one appreciates this cover similar to one of his songs – while the humor might be more exaggerated here, it’s foiled by solid musicianship and a respect for the source material.

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

TAGGED UNDER: Stephen Malkmus | the jicks | pavement | 2001 | cover song | live recording | Matador | oasis | noel gallagher |
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“Spit on a Stranger” – Nickel Creek
(Words/Music: Stephen Malkmus, available on This Side, Sugar Hill 2002)

One of the consequences of having a large music library is that certain artifacts fall through the cracks.  Whether a LP gets lost in storage, a CD gets lost under a car seat, or an MP3 gets lost in some secluded sub-folder, we can go months or years without hearing a specific record.  Sometimes, these are old favorites hiding out until we rediscover them and fall back in love.  Even though I’d rather not lose track of a favorite record, the moment of reunion and the countless plays afterward almost makes up for the lost time.  At times, I know I have far too much music for my own good due to addictions to thrift store record bins and used CD racks (not to mention downloading), and I occasionally want to forego new music (or new to me at least) in order to rediscover some things I haven’t listened to in ages (or never gave enough listens to in the first place).

Still, some songs and records seem destined for the dark corners of my record collection.  Specifically, I have a fair amount of “gimmicky” records – things I checked out based mostly on the premise.  For whatever reason, I was intrigued by these albums.  A string quartet tribute to OK Computer? The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra playing the songs of U2? I have these records somewhere (and others like this) and listened to them at least once (some of them more often).  Looking back, these seemed destined to find their way to a cardboard box in the back of my closet.  It seems like these records boomed in the late ‘90s for whatever reason, and they still exist today yet don’t seem as prevalent (although, to be fair, I’m not spending as much time browsing in record stores these days as I did a decade ago, and I’d likely go right past a violin reinterpretation of Fall Out Boy).  Instead, I see these “gimmick” songs as MP3s, whether they are things like Ben Folds covering Dr. Dre or a bluegrass cover band calling themselves Hayseed Dixie (say it out loud and you’ll figure out who they cover).  This isn’t to say these aren’t fun – often, they’re very enjoyable.  However, these songs rarely make it to my iTunes library – it’s usually one listen before being deleted.  Even if these songs make it to my library, they’re usually forgotten unless added to a playlist immediately.

Nickel Creek’s cover of Pavement’s “Spit on a Stranger” fell into that second category.  I downloaded it years ago after finding out that the bluegrass band covered one of my favorite songs from Terror Twilight.  I stumbled across it this afternoon after going years without thinking about it, so I gave it a listen.  Two things jumped out at me listening to it now.  First, Nickel Creek does well with the song, emphasizing the bouncy feel that’s only hinted at in the original.  Even with a sunnier arrangement, “Spit on a Stranger” still feels right, and it only emphasizes how it (and a lot of Terror Twilight) has more in common with Stephen Malkmus’s earlier, song-focused solo work rather than the idiosyncratic direction Pavement went on prior albums.  The electric guitar that joins in about half way seems perfect too – giving their version a slightly rougher feel.  The second revelation I had was that while I enjoy music like this, I’d rather hear originals than a song I know.  I don’t know much (or really, anything) about bluegrass, and I imagine that Nickel Creek are kind of pop-bluegrass, but it’s hard for me to appreciate their musicianship when I’m trying not to compare it to the original.  Specifically, I’m distracted by the way the vocalist squeaks on the high notes, and it’s hard to focus on the subtleties of the arrangement when I’m busy cringing.  Overall, I’d rather hear Pavement’s version (it wasn’t really a fair fight), but there’s a place in my library for this cover version.  While I wouldn’t want to hear it every day, I don’t particularly want to go another four or five years without hearing it again.

More on Nickel Creek: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: nickel creek | 2002 | 2000s | track analyis | cover song | pavement | stephen malkmus | gimmick songs |
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“Silence Kit” - Pavement
(Words/music: Stephen Malkmus, appears on Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, Matador 1994)

I try my best to stay away from “this equals that” kind of criticism in part because more often than not it’s imposing something onto the song from the outside.  Sure, there’s times where songs or albums or songwriters have obvious touchstones (and you know this because every single review will mention it), but I rarely found a “this sounds like that plus that” kind of synopsis helpful.

That being said, I’m about to break my own rule when I say that “Silence Kit” and Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” have some less than obvious points of relation.  Both Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain and Born to Run found their creators reaching a wider audience (Springsteen soon became “The Boss,” Pavement and Matador Records rode the mid-90s alterna-boom to a gold album and a distribution deal with Capitol Records) and both albums start with songs about leaving town.  However, while “Thunder Road” is a large and cinematic (or, to its detractors, “overblown) song about cars as a source for personal redemption and the opportunity to “make something” of yourself, “Silence Kit” exchanges optimism for anti-climax.

Springsteen once called “Thunder Road” his “invitation” to his listeners, and “Silence Kit” unfolds similarly.  The slow groove at the twenty second mark, Malkmus’ high notes right before the minute mark (it almost sounds like he’s saying “hiiiiiii”, but let’s not get carried away), and even the way Malkmus seems to give advice to the “silent kid” (the song became “Silence Kit” on the Crooked Rain sleeve due to an ink blot on the artwork) all seem like an invitation to leave town.  However, while “Thunder Road” pulls out of town, “Silence Kit” stalls at the city line where they merely talk about leaving rather than jumping town.

The vehicle, in this case, seems to be music as the last verse talks about grabbing drum sticks to pull “myself into the spotlight, ecstasy feels so warm inside.”  However, just as the attempt to leave stalls at the edge of town, this rush fades after the show, leaving the narrator alone with his two hands.  It shares the same sense of urgency and yearning for “more” (whatever that it), yet “Silence Kit” ends more realistically; all of our problems can’t be solved by driving away into the sunset, no matter how much we’d like to just jump in and run.  Instead, Pavement explore life’s contradictions, absurdities, and quirks over the rest of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, with “Silence Kit” as the invitation to follow the band along.

PS - this post is a hat tip to my friend Devine, who recently started a new blog this is the city line that culls its name from this song.  He writes about sports, music, and other topics of interest with the same humor, self-deprication, and razor-sharp wit that makes me love Pavement, so it’s worth checking out, sports fans.

More on Pavement: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: 1990s | 1994 | Matador | apocrypha | indie rock | pavement | shout out | track comparison | bruce springsteen |
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