STEPHEN MALKMUS + Dan Schachter @ La Tulipe

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 07/17/2008

The last time I was witness to Mr. Malkmus' particular brand of genius, it was in 2003, opening for Radiohead at Parc Jean-Drapeau, just after the release of his second solo record Pig Lib. At the time, quick, quirky pop ditties like "Jenny and the Ess-Dog" and "Dark Wave" were the norm, and extended guitar workouts like Pig's "1% of One" were the exception. Five years and two albums later, the reverse is true – Real Emotional Trash, his newest record, consists mostly of five-minute-plus jams, frequently freed of pop structures.

Accordingly, much of the night's set is taken from Trash and its predecessor, Face the Truth. Careful not to be too relaxed in his pacing, however, Malkmus (along with his stalwart Jicks, including his most recent recruit, fabulous ex-Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss) opened with a pair of sprightly pop tunes -- "Baby C'mon" and "Gardenia" -- before launching into the more extended jams. Even then, he has a way of gradually easing you into the more complex stuff -- he starts with longer tracks that are still hook-driven, like "Dragonfly Pie" and "Hopscotch Willie" before getting to slightly more esoteric material like "Elmo Delmo."

There are two special facets of a Malkmus set beyond his expert pacing that merit mention. The first is his ridiculous proficiency with his guitar. From his humble "slacker-rock" origins, Malkmus has emerged as something of a hero on his axe. This was evident enough already when I saw him five years ago, but at this point it's become much more obvious, right down to the ridiculous playing-behind-his-head moments. The second and more important factor of note is that despite his grander songwriting ambitions, he still retains a sense of humor, which occasionally spills over into his compositions as well -- "Hopscotch Willie," which starts off with the usual technical proficiency, devolves into a hilariously atonal two-guitar wank-off for about a minute, before ultimately resuming its infectious verse.

Opener Dan Schacter played a half-dozen of his folksy workouts with electric guitar accompaniment, delivered in a suspiciously Dylan-esque croon/croak. 

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