Stephen Malkmus

Stephen Malkmus

POUNDING PAVEMENT
Indie-rock Kingpin Stephen Malkmus Makes a Weighty Solo Debut -- and Takes a Few Cracks at His Old Band
They were the textbook indie band -- smart, smirking, and always willing to lead listeners on a wild-goose chase in search of their simple, whistleable tunes. Yes, Pavement defined their genre throughout the '90s, thanks in large part to the mercurial vision of frontman Stephen Malkmus. For more than a decade, Malkmus and co-conspirator Scott "Spiral Stairs" Kannberg toyed with Pavement's mix, sending shards of indie obscurantism, pop culture knowledge, and deep irony in all directions. But recently the singer formerly known as S.M. apparently tired of tussling with his bandmates -- whether he was rattled by the rush or merely wanted to lay down his own path, he split the band as Y2K drew to a close. It didn't take long, however, for Malkmus to assert himself as a solo artist, via a self-titled solo album that should have little trouble winning over disgruntled Pavement fans. The disc is riddled with moments redolent of his old band at its most pop-savvy. Malkmus dislodged himself from his Oregon homestead long enough to tell Barnes & Noble.com's David Sprague the truth and nothing but the truth about his current state of affairs.

Barnes & Noble.com: Was it difficult for you to break with the band?

Stephen Malkmus: Of course, it's sad in some ways. On another level, it's a relief to have it be over. It was always long and arduous for me to make the albums, and it wasn't fun anymore. When you know that deep in your heart, you shouldn't be making records -- you just keep doing it because you don't know what else to do. You lose the thread of why you wanted to do this in the first place. As much fun as it is to make records, you can lose that when you take these advances and put yourself in a position where you have to do things you don't like. I can see doing this for like one more record and then do it at home, maybe put a record out once every five years.

B&N.com: Did you have any doubts about going out on your own?

SM: I probably will at some point, if people start saying, Boy, you used to be good back then. But for now, I'm like...I'm like Björk and those were my Sugarcubes -- even though we got way more hype than the Sugarcubes ever did. I'm happy I did that, and I'm happy we stopped before we got pathetic. It was really easy for me to make this record, and it might make people mad to hear me say that it was really effortless. But there was just this feeling of freedom. Relationship metaphors are stupid, but when you've been going out with the same person for a long time, you want to sleep around.

B&N.com: I know you were initially going to issue this under a band name: Was it tough for you to make the decision to put your name on it?

SM: Not really. I look at other people who put their names on records, and they don't do half as much as me. Like Jewel, for instance, or even Björk. I play all the instruments; I do the cover art. I don't have problems with the personality-rock sweepstakes anymore because...I don't know, it just seems to be redundant to make up another name after ten years. It just came down to asking the other people in the band if it was all right, and it was. The "real band" thing is really hard. When you're in your 30s, you start to realize that most bands are one person with a vision, and other people in supporting roles of varying importance.

B&N.com: Is there a great deal of ego-stroke involved?

SM: I don't care that much, really. Obviously, you enter into that race of wanting to be heard and star culture and all. You can make that your focus if what you really want is to make a lot of money, but if I wanted to do that, I picked the wrong way to do that. Still, for me, there's a lack of worry or care about self-image. I just have to say this is better than most jobs. I may look like an idiot getting my picture taken, but there are worse jobs. I could be the guy behind the camera or the guy fluffing up my hair. You just have to look at yourself as a piece of furniture who's there to sell the record.

B&N.com: On Pavement records, wisdom has it that you would come up with the basic ideas, get the structures together, and bring in the other members to flesh things out. How did that process change here?

SM: Well, I think that the image of the other guys in Pavement having a lot of input was kind of dishonest. There really wasn't that much, to tell the truth. I mean, there was always support, but no more or less input than these guys had on this record. I'm not trying to put anyone down, since it was more of a time issue than anything. I don't want to say anything negative about Pavement, but things went quicker. Maybe I was nicer to everybody or something.

B&N.com: This record seems a little more linear than a lot of what you've done in the past. Would you agree, and is that something you were going for?

SM: It definitely is. With new people in the band, I was trying to keep things simple until we had a chance to feel each other out, and then we ended up liking that approach. We could play more weird shit, but I wanted to be more direct. It's not like Oasis or anything, but it's relatively structured. I like how it sounds, and my girlfriend likes it. Maybe some Pavement fans will think it sounds too hi-fi or something. I really do want other people to like it, but I can't really figure out what that entails anymore.

B&N.com: One song in particular that stands out in that way is "Jenny and the Ess-Dog."

SM: That is really traditional. When you make songs that are so melodic, you can't get away with cryptic lyrics. I had to cover my ass, since the world probably didn't need another song that sounded like that. I needed to make sure the lyrics were a little better than usual, so I tried to make it like "Jack and Diane," only with weirder people.

B&N.com: What's with the Yul Brynner obsession that crops up in "Jo-Jo's Jacket"?

SM: That was a random thing where I was just sitting around trying to prove to my band that it would be fun to be in a band with me. I had found this promo record for Westworld, and I put it on and it was really cool, as cool as I remembered it being when I was a kid. That was Michael Crichton's directorial debut, actually.

B&N.com: There's a lot of new wave sounding stuff on the album as well. Were you trying to relive the '80s?

SM: There is a lot of cheese, but I thought the '80s were awful, since I was in high school and college. The '90s were the best for me, so I'll just relive those again.

February 13, 2001