"Pavement is dead. Long live Pavement?" Such is the equivocal, albeit unspoken theme of tonight's gig showcasing former Pavement frontman (and presiding genius) Stephen Malkmus' new band, The Jicks, and material from his forthcoming solo LP.
Given that Malkmus has ackowledged, in numerous published interviews, that his solo work makes no great stylistic departure from his Pavement oeuvre, and that the half of the sold-out crowd who are guest-listed industry hacks and Friends Of Steve know that these statements are in fact true, there's a mild hope among concert-goers that Malkmus will simply be carrying on the Pavement tradition under his own name. And -ahhh- playing some top Pavement stuff, to boot.
But that's not exactly what transpires. For one thing, Malkmus never cops to crowd sentiment with any Pavement favorites; he seems a little nerve-wracked, up on stage with this new group, and perhaps as a result, a little annoyed at the frequent shout-outs for 'Stereo' and 'Summer Babe' - although, in those same numerous interviews, the self-analyzing one has also said he anticipated plenty of requests.
Malkmus does, however, manage to include covers of obscure songs by Fairport Convention and Northwest punk group The Wipers in his set, which will do nothing to dispel rumours of his orneriness. As for the songs off new album 'Stephen Malkmus', if they are not as musically ambiguous and angular than his Pavement stuff, it's also true that they're no less lyrically alive, and that Malkmus' musical direction in Pavement was increasingly clear-cut, anyway. So blaming the songs for the vibe of let-down in the Ballroom would be misplaced; the daydream beauty of 'Church On White' and 'Trojan Curfew', rocker 'Black Book', and the set-closing pop-ballad 'Jenny And The Ess-Dog' come off particularly well.
Rather, it might be more accurate to say that the disappointment stems from The Jicks' lack of palpable chemistry. Oh, sure the band is waaay tighter than Pavement ever were (what a difference rehearsing makes), and Malkmus' girlfriend sure looks cute, shaking tambourine or maracas over on stage right, but for the black-rimmed spectacled masses, it can't compare to the ad-hoc miracles performed by mssrs Ibold, Kannberg, et al. back in the day.
Where's the choas? Where's Bob Nastanovich, wandering the stage aimlessly until called upon for an ear-shattering scream? For once, the vetoed idea of bringing Justine Frischmann on board as a touring member seems like a good one - at least she would provide some star dynamisn to complicate Malkmus' own, which now seems too diffident to stand essentially alone.
Given time, maybe this group of ace musicians will come to complement Malkmus' ditties with enough weird energy to compete with fans memories' of gigs forgone, but tonight it's not happening. And no amount of ardent rocking out from the Friends Of Steve - a glittery group comprised, among others, of nearly the entire masthead of SPIN, actress Parker Posey, and writer Thomas Beller (who looks uncannily like his mate, touching off more than a few metaphysical crises in the audience) - can convince the rest of the crowd otherwise. But then, Stephen Malkmus probably anticipated that response, too.
