The first line of Real Emotional Trash begs to be read autobiographically: "Of all my stoned digressions/ Some have mutated into the truth/ Not a spoof." It's the same tease that Malkmus pulled by calling his last album Face the Truth, in spite of its characteristically elusive contents. While that record featured Malkmus fully indulging his penchant for eclectic basement tinkering, Real Emotional Trash is an unabashedly rock'n'roll band album. It's the most aesthetically cohesive album of Malkmus' solo career (which is good), but also the jammiest (which, here, is bad). The record may sound like it would have been a blast to play on, but that doesn't always make for an engrossing listen.

On the plus side, Real Emotional Trash is still a Stephen Malkmus album, and it's host to all his pursuant charms and quirks. As a writer, Malkmus remains in top form; the album is rife with character-based songwriting that seems increasingly rare and valuable as songwriters increasingly grapple with overstated signifiers of sincerity. Even the album's title is characteristically apt-but-not-apt; though the material on Real Emotional Trash could hardly be considered straightforwardly "emotional" (even in comparison to Malkmus' output at large), there's a very real sense of excitement that comes from its communal sound.

The excitement is justified, too; these Jicks (Malkmus included) are stellar musicians. Malkmus shows off his band's strengths right off the bat; "Dragonfly Pie" is equal parts swaggering indie and 1970s AOR, coupling simple and memorable melodic phrases with synchronized, fuzzy guitar riffs. There are some moments of extreme understated structural elegance here; as the song's chorus emerges from a tangled verse, Sleater-Kinney/Quasi drummer (and now Jick) Janet Weiss' muscular and precise drumming lends the song a unified sense of purpose that's largely been absent from Malkmus' solo work.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. Many of the songs on Real Emotional Trash start promising, but quickly become frustratingly repetitive and aimless. At times, the album veers satisfyingly into proggy excess or White Stripes-like forceful minimalism, but never commits to either. If anything, it sounds like the work of a band that knows how to play well together, but can't necessarily convey a purpose beyond that. "Hopscotch Willie" starts out with a pleasant verse (that actually brings to mind the melody from Sade's "Smooth Operator"), but by the six-minute mark you're, uh, well aware that you've hit the six-minute mark.

The album drags even more with its title track, one of many on Real Emotional Trash that struggles to construct an epic from just a handful of memorable moments. The song’s extended midsection deftly shows off the band’s ability to work in tandem, but it's not a gesture that rewards repeat listens. Thankfully, the album picks up with lead single "Baltimore" and the under-three-minute, almost-"Reelin' in the Years"-quoting "Gardenia", both of which use the band’s strength to put some extra oomph into already-great songs. Closer "Wicked Wanda" is great, too, incorporating enough musical curveballs to keep things interesting.

Then again, "Wicked Wanda" is a fitting end for a record that is something of a curveball itself. Face the Truth overflowed with incongruous musical ideas, but Real Emotional Trash is determinedly unified, even if it isn't always clear to what ends. At its best, the record hints at opening a whole new musical world for Malkmus-- one in which his well-worn style is effectively played down in the service of a mighty rock'n'roll band. Otherwise, it's simply a satisfying, if underdeveloped, gesture towards something much greater than itself.