One of the problems of selling new albums by long term career artists is that there’s usually no story to tell about it. Music writers are mostly quite lazy, and it’s generally difficult to spin “talented person makes another very good record” into compelling copy. The entire music media system is set up to favor new things, small discographies with a clearly identifiable peak, and on occasion, a comeback story. Being consistently good for a long time is not sexy and sometimes viewed with contempt, even if that is the ideal situation for being a fan of an artist, or, you know, actually BEING an artist. But it’s never really about art. It’s about stories and images, and a consistent story and static image is borrrrrrring.
Matador Records has been successful in crafting a narrative around Groove Denied, Stephen Malkmus’ eighth album since the demise of Pavement. It’s the weirdest and most casual record he’s made, though there’s precedent for both the tossed-off looseness and dependence on somewhat haphazard and inexpert drum programming on various b-sides and outtakes released in both the Pavement and Jicks phases of his career. The story here is that the album was made prior to last year’s Sparkle Hard, but Matador asked Malkmus to shelve it and focus on his more conventional material. The label was successful in marketing Sparkle Hard as a “return to form,” so the path was clear to release the more peculiar album with minimal risk. With this narrative, the oddball style of Groove Denied was now an asset, and people could come to the record prepared for Malkmus to “go electronic.”
OK, so, it’s not THAT electronic. There’s definitely drum machines and a lot of keyboards, and the first side has a few songs that are legitimately new aesthetic territory for Malkmus, though his Malkmus-ness is so strong that it devours any sound it comes in contact with. The most extreme song is “Forget Your Place,” not just because it’s so slow and meditative, but because his voice is altered so much that the Malkmus-ness of it is muted. This is good and interesting stuff, but the real action is on the second side. That’s where he’s not trying on new vibes, but doing his usual thing with a playful “hey, who cares, I’m having fun here” attitude. This is always an aspect of what Malkmus does, but the trend over the course of his Jicks catalog is a move towards increasingly tight and technically accomplished music. He sings better, he plays better, he works with a strong rhythm section. But here’s informal and a little sloppy. He’s doing all the percussion and drum programming himself, and it’s not his strong suit. But it’s very charming, and it suits the wobbly psychedelic vibes he’s going after.
“Ocean of Revenge” is my favorite, and it’s the most tightly composed song on the record. Sue me, I am a long term Jicks fan. This is what I’ve come to love! The presentation is a bit more sloppy, but the songwriting is brilliant in a very specific Malkmus-y way – long free-floating melodies, casually winding guitar parts, lyrics full of surprising specificity. He’s writing in character here, but the key lines ring out in a way that invite you to ignore the storytelling and focus on the feeling: “I know you thought about me more often than I thought of you / it is true, just admit it!” The song is excellent in its construction but still feels like something he might have written and laid down in a day and forgot about for two years. It’s the kind of thing that reminds you how this all seems to come so easily to him, which is both astonishing and a little annoying. Some people work all their lives to write one song as good as “Ocean of Revenge,” and for Malkmus it’s just another one among the many.
