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#1418: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Troubbble

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Stephen Malkmus by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks again? Ah, okay then. You can understand, I don’t have anything new to add in regards for an introduction, considering the literal previous post was about another song from the album. But let’s see… let’s see. The first song from the album I covered on this blog was ‘Deado’, in a post dated the 19th March 2014, so clearly I was aware of the album by that point. A website archiving the radio shows I did in university exists. Not just mine, but you get the idea. Hearing my 18-year-old voice, not so much fun. On one show I hosted on 19th January 2014, I had ‘Jo Jo’s Jacket’ in the playlist. I was definitely listening to the Jicks’ Mirror Traffic in late 2013, so maybe Stephen Malkmus was in the iTunes library at that point too? If only my old laptop got itself together, I could have some concrete facts to give. It’s very frustrating. But to sum up, somewhere along the way, ‘Troubbble’ dug itself into the brain after album revisitations. Might have even happened around the same time ‘Trojan Curfew’ did.

‘Troubbble’ starts off the second half of the self-titled album, a bit of a punky, freakout session to kick things off again after ‘Discretion Grove’. I always think of ‘Troubbble’ as being an indication of how Malkmus’s spirits were at the time. There weren’t any signs of its kind of fun, throw-at-the-wall-see-what-sticks feeling to be found on Terror Twilight, which I love as an album, but it’s definitely moody in places. And at this point, Malkmus was freed from his shackles and able to just let loose a little. The lift of the Pavement burden was off his shoulders, and it was reflected in the music. It’s a sentiment I’m sure I’ve shared in similar words before, only because I really think it’s true. ‘Troubbble’, I really have no clue what it’s about. It may just be a lyrical exercise that Malkmus made to fit the music. A bit of existential stuff going on with “The world passes by in a flash / From the birth of the earth to the curse of your desperate math.” A great line, some catchy rhyming. Otherwise, it’s anyone’s guess. Here’s the demo. It doesn’t remotely clear anything up. Very interesting to hear, though.

You know, I found out sometime last year, Stephen Malkmus played the drums on Pavement song ‘Speak, See, Remember’ on Terror Twilight. I know it was initially said he took charge of almost every instrument on that album. I don’t think that’s true. But he did say in an interview that he played drums on one. Wasn’t expecting it to be ‘Speak, See…’. John Moen is credited as drummer on Stephen Malkmus, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Malkmus recorded everything on ‘Troubbble’ at least. I really like how those drums sound like a kid’s playing them during the verses before kicking into a proper driving momentum for the choruses. It’s a great change-up. And in general, ‘Troubbble’ is a track filled with oddities. All the squirty synthesizer work that goes on throughout adds to the playfulness of everything. There’s that moment where, I don’t know if it’s feedback or what, there’s that little melody that arrives after Malkmus sings ‘Literal swine drop’. In the background, an overdubbed Malkmus belts out “IF HE COULDN’T STAND YA” at the same time his singing counterpart delivers the line. I could describe more things, but it’s best for you to discover. What I’ll say is, for a song that doesn’t reach two minutes in length, I think there’s something new to hear in ‘Troubbble’ with each successive listen.

#1417: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Trojan Curfew

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There was a time in 2014 or 15 when I was playing this song in my iTunes library nearly every day. ‘Trojan Curfew’ by Stephen Malkmus, not credited alongside the Jicks officially, but they’re in the music too. Stephen Malkmus is my favourite of the guy’s work outside of Pavement, his first to be released, in 2001, after the band split up two years prior. Not to say that there aren’t any quality gems that followed in the 17 years The Jicks went on to add to their catalogue. But as a package, a whole, the front-to-back, it’s his self-titled solo debut that’s done the business for me for more than a decade at this point. Reasons why, I’m sure I must have laid out in previous posts for songs from it. Why was ‘Trojan Curfew’ my favourite song for a period during those years? It’s not the most popular number on the album. I’m very sure when I was getting into it, a comment on a YouTube went along the lines of, “The ending was how the whole song should have went.”

But that’s doing the whole track a disservice. Every time those drums fall in and the rhythm gets going, I feel like I’m floating on air. The production’s just so damn dreamy. I could sink into the thickest beanbag listening to this song. It may be the feathery, delicate approach that some listeners may find as a reason to be nonplussed by it all, but I guess I’m just a sucker for those kinds of songs when they’re done right. And this one feels good. The track isn’t too difficult to explain. At least, I think so. In the first verse and chorus, Malkmus depicts a scene of Greek gods gathering underneath some Doric architecture, being merry and talking about whatever Greek gods would discuss in those days, with fields of green and nature bursting with life around them. And in a “look how far we’ve come” kind of commentary, the second verse and final choruses fast-forward to the “present day” of 2000/01 where the Doric architecture remains, but normal, you-and-me people are there instead, wasted on alcohol. There’s a little less green field, a bit more concrete in the area. So I guess it’s a bit of an environmental song, a bit of a poke at how insignificant we are as human beings in comparison to the supposed mythical figures that existed in the past. There are layers to this tune.

The briefest part of ‘Trojan…’ that I remember getting stuck in my head first off was the way Malkmus sings, ‘Field of green’. Just that little melody there. But it took a listen or two more to fully gauge the context the lyric was used in. Once it all came together, the music and the words, I was swept off my feet. Malkmus’s vocal take, so perfect. So laidback, it’s almost like he’s sighing. Sighing with a beautiful melody all the way through. The slide-guitar playing the song’s riff in the breaks, I guess, almost acts a chorus itself. Nothing like a slide guitar to create a swooping, soaring feel in a piece of music. There’s an organ that comes in during the second “We got smashed on Ios” verse that adds another flavour to the proceedings. And then of course, there’s the “bring it on home” rock ending that officially closes out the song after the fake-out that occurs a few moments before. So forget whatever that old YouTube comment said. I’m telling you, as a real person in the year 2026, the whole four minutes and six seconds ‘Trojan Curfew’ lasts for is worth the time.

#1033: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Phantasies

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Does anyone out there have an insight as to how Stephen Malkmus feels about his early, early “solo” albums with the Jicks? I guess, just like any artist, as time goes on you become more focused and familiar with the more recent stuff and you may not feel the same closeness you once had with that old material. Would be a bummer if that’s the case, because the Stephen Malkmus album from 2001 is my favourite out of the Jicks albums to date. Not saying that everything he’s done since then hasn’t matched up to it. I just enjoy a large number of the tracks on there.

‘Phantasies’ is the second song on the album, and going a unique way in terms of a lyrical narrative, Malkmus sings from the persepctive of, presumably, an Inuit living in Karakatu, Alaska – a town that doesn’t exist – and going about their daily business with their fellow Inuit colleague. It’s a nice, little, upbeat tune. Coming after the sorta surreal opener of ‘Black Book’, ‘Phantasies’ turns the album’s direction into a more approachable direction. And a fun one too. Malkmus sounds like he’s having a blast just singing it. There are keyboard-activated vocal samples that are played like a kid in high school when the teacher’s left the room. The synth that follows the vocal melody during the verses has a childlike innocence to it. The “Whoa a-whoa-ohs” in the choruses are kinda silly, but that’s really what the whole song is going for. Silly and carefree, but still with a lot of heart.

All of this, the music, the lyrics, the performance, the whole untroubled air of it all, I’ve come to link with Malkmus’ then-newfound freedom after the breakup of Pavement two years prior. There’s that clip of him in the last Pavement show where, with a pair of handcuffs dangling off his microphone, he says to the audience – “This is what it’s been like being in a band all these years.” Something along those lines. And now that was over, it was like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. The whole feeling of freedom isn’t confined to just this song though. The whole album revels in it. Malkmus sang he wasn’t having fun anymore on Pavement’s final album. In this song you can hear the huge difference in tone when he was.

#671: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Jo Jo’s Jacket

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Another one from Stephen Malkmus’ debut solo album, ‘Jo Jo’s Jacket’ was released as that record’s second single in 2001. It is not about anything in particular. Its title has nothing to do what appears in the verses. The closest thing relating to Malkmus that I think ‘Jo Jo’ could be is The Jicks’ bass guitarist Joanna Bolme, and even then it doesn’t make things any clearer. Though if there’s anything Stephen Malkmus is known for, it’s somehow making a coherent lyric out of the most random things.

It starts off as a song from the perspective of actor Yul Brynner, known for his shaved head and starring in the film Westworld in 1973, who provides the spoken word introduction taken from an old interview. It then switches to a kind of stream-of-conciousness type lyric in the second verse which may or may not be a slight dig at Moby. And then, sandwiching these verses, is a joyful wordless chorus that glides along with the track’s tempo and general breezy atmosphere.

Whatever the subject matter may concern, it really doesn’t matter in the long run, the song’s infectious groove and melody can’t be denied. It’s one of the straighter rockers on Stephen Malkmus but, compared to say ‘Discretion Grove’ which I think is okay but never really loved, it gets my foot tapping every time those first power chords hit.

#666: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Jenny & the Ess-Dog

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Near the end of Stephen Malkmus’ first album as a ‘solo’ artist is ‘Jenny & the Ess-Dog’ – a tale of two people who couldn’t be further apart on the social spectrum in terms of age (Jenny is just 18, the Ess-Dog (Sean) is 31) and upbringing but ultimately like each other enough to have a sweet relationship.

They listen to Dire Straits’ Brothers in Arms album together and buy a pet – a dog – as some couples tend to do. Unfortunately, Jenny goes to college and the relationship eventually fizzles out leaving the two individuals to embark on their separate journeys.

The song is very easy-going and upbeat in its delivery, driven by a climbing/falling vocal melody backed by warm, sunny guitars and child-like keyboard patterns that guide each verse along. ‘Jenny’ is another track on the album that I always felt mirrored the freedom that Malkmus felt upon the split of Pavement in 1999. There was no track like this on Terror Twilight, and I guess he felt that he could with ease with the burden of his old band off his shoulders. This could have been a radio hit if he wanted it to be.

Its music video above has nothing to do with its lyrics as is the usual for a lot of Malkmus-related music videos though that shouldn’t take anything away from the song’s quality. Charming in its own strange way.