Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks - Real Emotional Trash

I must confess I have a conditioned aversion to jam bands. When I was eighteen I hung out with a group of hippie musicians. They were effusively warm and carefree and shared the same kind of disdain for mainstream America I was beginning to fashion. But they never really went anywhere and their lack of steady work left them constantly asking my friends and me for money to buy gas and cigarettes. I soon went on my way, recognizing that though nice people they were not really appropriate role models for where I saw my life going.
Given my deep-rooted aversion to jam bands, I was extremely disconcerted to learn that Real Emotional Trash, the latest album by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, has several tracks that surpass the six minute mark and is filled with aimless, lengthy solos. Despite my reservations, this open-endedness seems a natural progression for Pavement front man Malkmus. Most of Pavement’s work was desultory and rhythmically loose; its focus grew from the conspicuous force of the band’s anti-mainstream philosophy. Now that rock music is less vested in culture wars—and Malkmus at 41 and his band mates are older—it makes sense that Malkmus’s music would drift toward the lazy meanderings of 70s rock and progressive rock.
Most of Real Emotional Trash’s songs—notably “Hopscotch Willie” and “Wicked Wanda”--are anchored by delightful rhythmic tensions: the abrupt force of the drums vies for control over looping 70s style guitar while Malkmus’s sputtering, staccato vocals further jumble any lingering rhythmic stability. Unfortunately these songs are frequently addended by long, drifting guitar solos which diminish the petulant energy of earlier song parts. The Jicks diverge from this formula with mixed results. “Baltimore’s” gritty, meandering rhythm lacks the vitality of Pavement’s class struggles but its solo seques into a jaunty rock pace that actually breathes life into tired 70s guitar riffs. “Gardenia” is the album’s worst song even without a solo, melding Thin Lizzy riffs with inane, starry-eyed pop. “Real Emotional Trash” and “Cold Son” trade in the rhythmic intricacy for sedate but more emotionally charged melodies. The title track showcases increasing emotive sensitivity from Malkmus, who lengthens his traditional tapered delivery and reaches for high notes with newfound earnestness. Its solo transforms it from an introspective, desultory narrative into a delightful Grateful Dead-esque romp. “Cold Son” ends in under four minutes with the unintelligible shouts and cacophonous collision of instruments common in many Pavement tracks.
Real Emotional Trash is a mixed bag and will try the patience of many an indie rocker. Its most vital parts are too short and its tepid aspects often languish too long. Without the anchor of a dominant philosophy, Malkmus is in danger of losing focus and vitality. Without a purpose to structure his ramblings he will never recreate the dynamism which made Pavement so important.