Album Review: Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks- Wig Out at Jagbags

YAWN.

Ok. So maybe that’s just a tad mean spirited—to start this review like that.  So let’s try this again.

For the most part, I was too young to be into Pavement during their initial run. Certainly by the summer of 1999 (heading into my junior year of High School) I could have picked up on their final album, Terror Twilight, but let’s be honest; I was 16. I had a long chain dangling from my wallet. And while I was starting to show more indie leanings at this point, I would have much rather been listening to Limp Bizkit.

Love of Pavement, however, is not limited to people who went to college in the 90s—people who were shitting their diapers when Slanted and Enchanted dropped in ’92 can arrive to the party a decade plus late and find something to identify with in Stephen Malkmus’s trademark brand of sloppy, fuzzy indie rock.

Truthfully, I can really take or leave Pavement. I don’t dislike them, but I’m not what you’d consider to be a fan, or even a casual listener. I appreciate what they did for the indie rock movement, and certainly you can hear their influence on numerous younger bands, but I’m never in a mood to sit down and listen to music like this.

Almost immediately after Pavement disbanded in 1999, frontman Malkmus went on to form a new band with The Jicks, and outfit that, by all accounts, continues on with the Pavement sound.

So here’s the deal with this new Jicks album, Wig Out at Jagbags. First of all, what the fuck kind of album title is that?

Second of all, and most importantly is, YAWN.

Jesus this is boring.

Who listens to music like this? Like, who is the intended audience for an album that casts such an awful sense of boredom on the listener? Time slows down to a snail’s pace during Wig Out, because there is really nothing memorable or special about it. As a whole, the record kind of passes by in a 40 minute blur of lackadaisical vocals and lyrics, backed by very samey, uninspired guitar work

Like, this is the kind of album that middle aged white guys are going to love, and that 89.3 The Current is probably going to play the hell out of—“Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks!” they’ll declare proudly when they come back on the air after the first single, “Lariat,” finishes up.

There was a real cringe-inducing moment from the track “Rumble at The Rainbo.” It took me by surprise at first, but it’s a song like this that is a very clear example of how being self-aware and in an indie rock band is a horrible combo.

“Come and join us in this punk rock tune, come slam dancing with some ancient dudes. We are returning to our root—no new material, just cowboy boots,” is the gem chosen to open up “Rumble.”

Ouch.

While Malkmus and his crew never stray very far from the fuzzed out indie sounds of the early 90s, they do make some odd choices of additional influences to incorporate—specifically, there seems to be some (southern) classic rock leanings on Wig Out.

It’s hinted at within the first few moments on the opening track, “Planetary Motion,” pops up a little mid-way through on “Houston Hades,” but then it completely takes over on late album songs like “Chartjunk,” and the embarrassingly titled “Cinnamon and Lesbians.” These are both tracks that are so “classic rock,” neither would not sound out of place sandwiched in a playlist of legit rock music from the 70s and 80s on whatever “Real Rock Leader” radio station resides in your area.

Again, this may be a moment of self-awareness for the band, but it backfires. I’m not saying that indie rock needs to be humorless and take itself too seriously, but if it is a joke, it’s incredibly challenging to find the punch line.

Forever a slacker, Pitchfork got it right on their feature on “Lariat” where they refer to Stephen Malkmus as “nonchalance personified,” and that he is shrugging off the idea that he’s any kind of elder statesman to indie rock. Malkmus is audibly aloof throughout the course of Wig Out, and it makes for a non-enjoyable and frustrating listen. Specifically right now, coming off of a very odd two week run involving holidays, days off, half-days at work, full days, weekends, and more holidays. Both my wife and I are suffering from a terrible post-Christmas and New Year's malaise, so listening to a 

blasé album like this hasn't made me feel any better. In fact, making myself listen to Wig Out has made me feel worse at times. Like I am wasting my life away writing reviews for this blog. 

This is a record that is filled with songs that never really go anywhere—sure, they have a beginning, middle, and end—but there’s little to no depth involved, both musically and lyrically.

If you want to be bored to tears, Wig Out at Jagbags is available on Tuesday, via Matador Records.