Pitchfork

I'm not the first to imagine a parallel-universe version of Being John Malkovich entitled Being Stephen Malkmus-- that credit goes to weblogger Adam Kempa, although he neglected to take the concept to its logical extreme and consider the ramifications of Malkmus going through his own portal. Of course, one would expect there'd be a lot of "Malkmus Malkmus Malkmus. Malkmus? Malkmus, Malkmus!"-type carrying on, but the punchline would have to be that he'd actually enjoy the experience, so much so that he'd abandon Pavement and the rest of the outside world to stay in there, maybe form a band with other himselves, and record an album called, oh, I don't know, Stephen Malkmus.

I won't presume to be able to gauge how much influence Malkmus' new bandmates (Portland gadabouts Joanna Bolme and John Moen) had on this, his eponymous solo debut; anyway, it's his name and mug plastered on the album's cover, so he's going to get the majority of praise and blame.

There are two immediately apparent differences between Stephen Malkmus and Pavement's catalog: First and least surprisingly, there's less of a group dynamic. It definitely has the sonic hallmarks of a "solo" album-- the songs are less jammy and spontaneous, more rigidly structured. Second, it's a lot more fun-sounding than Pavement was near the end of its shelf-life. Let's face it, Pavement hadn't really sounded "fun" since Wowee Zowee-- Brighten the Corners and Terror Twilight had occasional moments of playfulness, but on the whole they were considerably more sober, bordering on ponderous.

As Malkmus has noted in interviews, this increasing lack of fun was one important factor in Pavement's dissolution; now having escaped from the handcuffs of "band"-dom, the solo Malkmus is savoring his freedom, the spring back in his step. He's not indulging in that freedom to the extent that he would confound all expectations and, say, record an album of Swedish reggae; Stephen Malkmus is Stephen Malkmus as Stephen Malkmus, splitting time (as always) between smirky loopiness and wistful melancholy. The whimsy factor may have been turned way up, but Malkmus spends his time on the album learning how to focus that whimsy towards specific ends, not just for its own sake.

If Pavement fans were grinding their teeth over the prospect of Stephen Malkmus being a flop, the first single, "Discretion Grove", didn't help matters much. It's about as MOR a song as he's ever written (with the exception of, perhaps, "Major Leagues"), chugging along mindlessly when it should be building toward a more satisfying climax. Also in the less-than-desirable category is "Jo Jo's Jacket", a prime example of Malkmus at his least appealing. In what is ostensibly a song about Yul Brynner, he doesn't do much beyond tack a sample of a Brynner interview at the beginning and namecheck Westworld, abandoning the subject matter entirely by the second verse and freestyling his way to the end. Let's be clear about something: songs about nothing in particular are fine if done right, as are songs about specific subjects, but switching between the two formats doesn't speak well of properly realized intentions.

Fortunately, Malkmus doesn't let his whimsy get the better of him elsewhere on the album; "Phantasies" is so unremittingly goony with its annoying samples, rubbery guitar and gratuitous falsettos that I can't help but love it. Likewise, "Troubbble"'s farting keyboards and guitar spasms make it a quick spurt of inspired head-bobbery. Ever since "Zurich is Stained" and "Here", I've always preferred Malkmus' achier, laid-back songs, of which this album has an abundance: "Church on White" is a lush, tender tribute to a deceased friend, and "Deado" and "Trojan Curfew" balance sublime, shimmery beauty with gentle humor.

Malkmus' biggest departure from his work with Pavement, however, lies in "The Hook" and "Jenny and the Ess-Dog", where he puts his gift for non-sequitur detail in the employ of an actual storyline. I've heard some people describe "The Hook" as Malkmus' "Lou Reed song," which seems sort of appropriate given his speak-sing delivery and deceptively simple, classic-sounding guitar solo. Naturally, it's a song about pirates, and an unromantic one at that: "We had no wooden legs or steel hooks/ We had no black eyepatches or a starving cook/ We were just killers with the cold eyes of a sailor." "Jenny and the Ess-Dog" unrolls a relationship between a young rich girl and an older slacker; the song's resolution initially feels like a shrug, with the things between them sputtering out when she goes off to college. But it speaks to something deeper about relationships as a temporary escape from the expectations of real life, and the eventual obligation to face "real life" again, albeit with a slightly different perspective.

Stephen Malkmus is a more coherent album than any one Pavement release, which can be seen as both a good and bad quality. There's less variation between the songs in terms of structure, but it's the minor tweaks to the sound that are the things to savor-- the ghostly sample that ties together "Deado", the silly but completely apropos steel drum bit on "Vague Space", the flute that swoops through the snarling trudge of "Black Book". Malkmus has regained his songwriting stride, and he sounds more confident than he's been in a long time. There aren't as many extremes or chances taken as some Pavement fans might like; it's not "important" or "groundbreaking," and it probably won't make many best-of lists come December. But it's still an enjoyable album with its share of Malkmus-worthy moments.