Tag Archives: space

#1457: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Vague Space

Aha! Surprise ‘V’ attack. Yeah, there were only 16 songs to write about beginning with the letter ‘U’. Wasn’t quite the marathon the ‘T’-section was. I don’t need a break after writing 16 posts. There are only 11 songs starting with ‘V’ that I have at my disposal. Might as well go straight into them. The first ‘V’ tune we’ll be looking at is ‘Vague Space’ by Stephen Malkmus (and the Jicks). The track’s from his 2001 self-titled album, his first ‘solo’ effort after Pavement’s split the previous year. I’ve noted it as my favourite solo Malkmus album in the past. Listened to it for the first time in September 2012. Returned to it in January 2014 ’cause Wig Out at Jagbags had arrived. I then listened through Stephen Malkmus on a train ride from Manchester to Coventry the following month, and I think it was that occasion that made me very familiar with the whole package. Nothing that aids musical understanding like the motion of a locomotion. By the end of 2014, the album was on regular rotation in my library, and, according to my Spotify files, ‘Vague Space’ was a song on there I repeated many, many times.

Don’t want to assume, but I don’t think ‘Vague Space’ would be one of those titles that fans would be shouting out, requesting to hear at Stephen Malkmus shows. As I write, it’s currently the eighth most-played track from his solo debut on Spotify, bettering opener ‘Black Book’, ‘Discretion Grove’ – weird ’cause it was a single, ‘Trojan Curfew’ – needs justice, and closer ‘Deado’. All very solid songs. It’s low in the pecking order, a little low on the ladder. If Malkmus did jokingly ask for requests during a live performance, I’d try and get my shout in for it if I was there. I hold ‘Vague Space’ as one of the songs from his first album that really show just how much fun he was having now that he was on his own. In the introduction, you’re greeted with a two-note melody on an organ followed by a descending scale on wah-wah pedal’d guitar. Just the back and forth between the two feels very playful in its intention immediately. Two very different elements that somehow manage to sound great when placed together. Then there’s the addition of keyboards during the verses that have been set to a steel drum preset to, I don’t know, add a little flavour or something. I’d like to think this was the thing that was being referred to when the album was originally titled Swedish Reggae before it got changed somewhere down the line.

This does however go down in a list of Stephen Malkmus songs where you do have to question, “What is this guy talking about?” I wish I could provide either the video or interview where Malkmus said – I’m paraphrasing – that he usually sees writing his lyrics as little wordplay exercises. He did say that somewhere. And I think that’s more or less the case with ‘Vague Space’ too. But even so, there’s usually still something to grip on to, at least Malkmus listeners like to think so, and that’s what always keeps them – but myself included – wanting more. So, let’s see. “Do you want to know where it stands right now / Do you really care what, when, why or how / I came to crave your spastic touch / The honest ways you move’s too much.” First verse. And then the chorus is simply “I looove to teeear you off” and the instruments rise in intensity as it’s sung. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe the whole thing is a love song in Malkmus’s own way. Some context, he moved to Portland after Pavement broke up and that’s where he met the lady he’d get married to. Craving a touch and being affected by someone’s movements. People in love experience that, right? “Tear you off”… maybe it’s referring to something a lil’ naughty. I also like to think this song has some additional importance, because a slowed down version of it arrives as a hidden moment after last track ‘Deado’. Always wanted to know why it’s there. Only SM will know.

#1255: They Might Be Giants – Space Suit

If you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you’ll have noticed the Giants’ stuff being a frequent occurrence here. I like their music a lot, to put it simply. 1992 marked the year that John Linnell and John Flansburgh had been playing together as the band known as They Might Be Giants for a decade. And in the same year they released Apollo 18, the second under their major-label contract with Elektra and their first self-produced record. Out of the first four albums which saw the two Johns performing everything except the rhythm section, Apollo 18 is the one sounding the most like a full rock band playing together. A bit of a precursor to what would arrive on their next album, when they actually did become a full rock band. But to cap Flansburgh and Linnell’s studio material as a duo off, they close out Apollo 18 with ‘Space Suit’, a reworking of the very first song the two made together when they created the band in 1982.

Things get a little bit hectic nearing the end of the album. One of the most notable moments on it comes in the ‘Fingertips’ suite, a collection of 21 little snippets of choruses and musical segments inspired by the jingles that play in the background of infomercials. That suite ends with the minute-long ‘I Walk Along Darkened Corridors’, which is played out to be the dramatic closer of the piece with Linnell putting on a faux-operatic voice alongside an emphatic “organ” and clarinets. But then ‘Space Suit’ comes along to properly end things in the form of a swinging, suitably spacey, 6/8-time instrumental, emphasising the ‘one man on guitar, one man on accordion’ setup the band originated with all those years prior.

John Flansburgh once had a guitar teacher in the early ’80s named Jack DeSalvo, who taught him a bunch of chords to use whenever convenient. With the chords he learned, Flansburgh went on to write ‘Space Suit’, but with its jazzy origins, it was originally titled ‘I’ll Remember 3rd Street’. The recording of the ‘3rd Street’ demo can be heard below. Much, much different from how it would turn out some years later. I can simply describe ‘Space Suit’ as an instrumental that consists of two parts, the one that has that ascending scale and the other containing the main melody, played by John Linnell’s accordion for the first time and then accompanied by Flansburgh’s vocals (buried deep in the mix) second time round. Makes it sound like the accordion itself is singing. Really enjoy when those cymbal crashes pack an extra punch about 40 seconds in. Put these all together, makes for some good listening.