Thursday, May 29, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Listening Station

Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks

Pig Lib

Maybe Stephen Malkmus saw that dismal Rolling Stone cover depicting a guitar-molesting Christina Aguilera, because he's brought the ax back with a vengeance, primed to kick some pop ass. Since Pavement's dissolution, Malkmus has continued to establish himself as one of the most accomplished and punchy beanpoles to survive the '90s. His self-titled breakaway in 2001 refined the distorted drive and wit he provided Pavement, into a mellowed, malleable zaniness. Pig Lib--his second with backers, The Jicks--is more daring and confident than its predecessor, and every bit as soulful and instructional as Morgan Freeman on the "Electric Company" ("dig the chords, baby").

Few artists save maybe David Byrne or Lou Reed could warn that "Bob Packwood wants to suck your toes" with such dignified grit and still keep you bouncing along. Guitar romps like Lib's opener "Water and a Seat" serve to remind that pop tunes needn't be slick cod-liver purgatives to be entertaining or precise. The quasi-epic "1% of One" offers a pearl of a rock story--"short though I know it may be"--but then expands into a stomping jam and embeds its minimalistic falsetto refrain. As "Us" tries to "make sense of presidents," Malkmus' dutiful skepticism reminds us to "take our time with what we find and feel it." Good advice for life and Lib.

(More advice? Seek ye out the first-edition package for some smoking live tracks recorded on stops in Sweden and Australia in 2001--ergo, more Malk for your money.)--Chad Lietz

I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch in the House

Put Here to Bleed

As evidenced by the second track on I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch in the House's sophomore studio album Put Here to Bleed, a single, horrifying moment stands out from singer/guitarist Mike Damron's childhood in Las Vegas. Still a minor himself, Damron looked on as his 12-year-old brother was accidentally shot in their kitchen by another brother who had pilfered the family gun from its hiding place. The incident, which Damron recalls in gruesome detail on "Dear Mr. Heston," spawned his loathing for handguns and, by extension, former NRA President Charlton Heston ("I'd like to send you back to them damn dirty apes") and notorious firearm enthusiast Ted Nugent ("come on fire at will/ cold-blooded, old-blooded sick ass man").

But Damron's anger does not stop there. A redneck rocker with a surprisingly liberal bent (think Neil Young and Crazy Horse without all the drug references), Damron goes on to confront George W. Bush ("Things That Fail") and Dandy Warhols' lead singer Courtney Taylor--apparently, for acting too much like a rock star ("Ballad of Courtney Taylor").

Sadly, Damron's gritty monotone fails to live up to the fire of his lyrics on Put Here to Bleed, and after the first few songs the album begins to sound like it's been put on repeat, each track blending into the previous until almost no distinction remains. Which leaves the rest of the musicians in I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch in the House--a group highlighted by David Lipkind on the mouth harp--in a bit of a quagmire: How do you tell your songwriter and spiritual leader that his singing sucks (especially when he's as hot-blooded as Damron)? In this case, it might be easier to just turn down his mic.--Newt Briggs

The Ataris

So Long, Astoria

It's not the actual signing with a major label that threatens to kill the spirit of a band--it's the assembly-line producer assigned to it. The Ataris, hailing from Santa Barbara, had this tousled charm to them not so long ago. (They stole the show at the last EAT'M.) Now, thanks to Lou Giordano (Goo Goo Dolls, Samiam), they sound like they've been shoved through the musical Play-Doh Fun Factory known as Pro-Tools Punk. Now, it's not exactly certain that the plug-and-play recording software was actually used in the creation of So Long Astoria, the band's Columbia Records debut, but given that the album gleams with power-pop gloss and embodies multi-track feng shui, there's no other explanation. Punk probably should not be this sunny and smudge-free, but with Sony picking up (some of) the tab, and leadman Kris Roe successfully refining his songwriting (see catchy, Jimmy Eat World facsimile, "In My Diary"), perhaps punk is no longer a means, nor an end. The band is kidding no one, including itself, by making what is essentially a concept album (theme: the potency of reflection) and covering Don Henley's beloved 1984 tune, "The Boys of Summer."

To be fair to the Ataris, the cover (as well as the album) is competent at worst and retains most of the wistful resonance of the original. One variation of note is how the "Deadhead" sticker in the third verse now reads Black Flag. Henry Rollins might wince, but it's an oddly endearing name-dropping moment--another lyrical reminder that the band hasn't forgotten where it came from.--Mike Prevatt