So how should we interpret this decision by Stephen Malkmus to enlist Beck (Hansen, no less) to render the sonic scribblings of his new-look Jicks outfit? Should we even seek to imagine the in-studio rapport between two of indie rock's most influential figures over the last two decades? Why would we? Is it even important? When they say objects in the mirror are closer that they appear - what the heck are we expected to do with that information? Speed up? Slow down? Freak out?!!
The very idea of Beck producing Malkmus was enough to lead even the most ardent solo-Malkmus fan to muse aloud whether this was, at last, the moment where Stephen Malkmus would finally be set free from his self-sanctioned artistic event-horizon - where the artist is found recreating then finessing the very same album every few years - visibly not aging, but also not dramatically or drastically progressing, in any direction?
From the opening few seconds of Mirror Traffic the listener is confronted with a strangely conspicuous, yet somehow furtive, undeniably mournful, yet indisputably joyous, realisation that such a deliberate conspiracy to transform Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks is not the intention behind this record and never was it likely, really, to have ever been on the cards.
So now we've got that question out of the way - what of the record? In keeping with Beck's past production efforts, the album is an exercise in recording mastery, with luscious mixes and near-perfect guitar-takes. This is not to say Stephen Malkmus, the defiantly anti-technical, self-taught anti-guitarist, has suddenly hit the textbooks with Professor Hansen peering over his shoulder. Malkmus continues to radiate his unique, mistakes-and-all, guitar brilliance (all produced without him having the faintest idea what the technical term may be for any one of his licks). It's just that the placement of these chiming six-string indie motifs in the Jicks mix is perfectly cast. And the Jicks as an outfit seem, partly as a result, more assured in the hands of an undisputed indie high-priest such as Beck. Less fearful perhaps of cramping the Malkmus mystique.
So just how close is this to past efforts and should we give a hoot anyway as to its linear lineage? Well, from the get-go, tracks such as Brain Gallop and Tigers are so distinctively Malkmus/Jicks as to lead one to think that, if heard in a live setting, you'd be certain that you adored this song from the very first time you heard it "way back when" - which would be today. Not so much confusing as it is endearing. Blissful recreations of a unique sound which is yet to wear out its welcome - not by a long shot. It's when you encounter tracks such as Stick Figures in Love, Asking Price and the rather Pavement-esque Spazz do you begin to hear new elements and vocal treatments which reveal Beck's admiring influence, benevolently prodding SM and the Jicks into producing their best sounding recorded effort to date.
Apart from his superb little mouth-harp insertions, the extent to which Beck orchestrated this aural achievement remains unclear - and that's just how you want it. The producer is in the booth, and not on the studio floor, for a reason - he/she ain't in the band. But, only by the time you are up to your eardrums in this album of such discreet and unassuming pleasures, do you even begin to detect new twists in the tail of one of indie rock's most beloved dinosaurs. Long Hard Book for example serves up everything from a flash of the Stones' tuneful acoustic-laden harmonies through to echoing guitar-growl and over-driven staccato chops heralding the arrival of an overly prompt outro. Tune Grief on the other hand comes across as a slightly manufactured opportunity to give Malkmus the chance to spiral up and down on one (of a number) of his trademark vocal gibber-bursts. The tune itself, however, is treated to a less precocious mix than would otherwise be the case, saving it from becoming a near-certain caricature of the archetypal Malkmus vocal-fit.
Songs such as All Over Gently (an oldie from '08), and Forever 28 before it, certainly reward the Malkmus fan for keeping the faith - more so in guitar lines and contorted arrangements than in lyrics however. In fact, it is the lyrical content of this album which raises questions over Malkmus' habitual Gen-Xer-style slackness. Are these words taking us anywhere? Are they meant to? Would it be pretentious to be anything other than haphazard and throw-away in our attitude to song words? Needless to say, this is one area where Beck's influence could not probe or venture. Malkmus' lyrical witticisms are just that - idiosyncratic remarks designed to amuse as much as to inform. Ask Malkmus to write a song about climate change and it could, as likely as anything else, wind up being about warm watery mist appearing on the insides of communal coin-op laundromats. It's not bereft of meaning - just not readily decipherable to anyone other than Stephen Malkmus and maybe Jethro (or whoever his latest hapless lyrical wanderer happens to be). If we were ever to look for a David Foster Wallace in the new century's indie squadron of seriously influential artists, SM would probably thank us courteously for the complement and cheekily invite us to keep looking.
However you interpret it - the vision in the mirror brought by this album is one of serene glimpses of human traffic moving within impressionistic surroundings; accompanied by the constant churn of regular and irregular people, together, leading varied and at times comical lives - all to the tune of Pavement's non-committal slacker-genius - sprinkled, as always, with a beguiling dash of false-modesty and intellectual front-guy angst. The words themselves are artfully chosen, but never are they able to settle on a singular subject for long - like a lyrical butterfly resisting capture for fear of having its frail wings torn off by an adoring but fumbling child-like admirer.
This is arguably the album Stephen Malkmus has been trying to complete for the past decade. And both the Jicks line-up and the production personnel have played a role in achieving this outstanding and, it must be said, sublime piece of music making. Whether Mirror Traffic finally releases Stephen Malkmus from a ten-year orbit around the same, albeit humbly glorious, long-player is another matter. And one which we'll have no problem waiting for - given the sumptuous and intoxicating play-list with which we've been supplied until the next chapter unfolds. For the record: the next installment? I'm predicting an almighty departure by the now untethered Malkmus. But maybe that's what we were assuming might happen last time? Either way, it doesn't really seem to matter. As long as the listening is this good, the life-traffic in the mirror, however close, will never reach us. These are simply artful ideas and colourful impressions, of both people and places, for us to revel in while listening to some of this life's most consummate indie tunage.
The nice peeps over at NPR have snuck in another of their enviable "first listens". Check the traffic in your mirror...Mr Jethro ?!!
