Later this year, Stephen Malkmus will take part in a pair of Pavement reunion shows where, if the band’s reunion tour a decade ago is any predictor, he’ll dutifully play the songs fans expect to hear the way they want to hear them, then move on. Malkmus has never been subtle about his disinterest in nostalgia, but in truth, he’s never seemed especially interested in shaking things up, either. Since unshackling from Pavement, his solo albums with the Jicks have offered only the most minor variations on his wry, guitar-forward indie rock. Sure, one of them was produced by Beck, but could you really tell?
Recently, something changed. With 2018’s beguiling Sparkle Hard, Malkmus delighted in unexpected whims, deploying string sections and digital vocal manipulation so skillfully you could almost forget they weren’t always part of Malkmus’s toolkit. And if that album’s one-and-done stylistic detours felt like a lark, then 2019’s Jicks-less Groove Denied, a laptop-driven tribute to early electronic music and post-punk, proved he could really commit. For Traditional Techniques, Malkmus once again picks a muse and sticks with it. It’s a folk album, an unexpectedly deft and learned one at that.
Recorded with Decemberists multi-instrumentalist Chris Funk, Chavez/Zwan guitarist Matt Sweeney, and Afghan musician Qais Essar, among others, the project was devised as an excuse to toy around with all the acoustic instruments Malkmus observed in Portland’s Halfling Studio while recording Sparkle Hard. That’s the official telling, at least, but the final product suggests a long-simmering fascination with the sounds of the Middle East and a deeper reverence for psych-folk than anything hinted at by the stray Pavement folk jam or B-side. Malkmus is just as committed to stringed instruments as he was the bleating electronics of Groove Denied. But on that album, Malkmus was moonlighting; here he’s a devoted student of the craft.
In addition to sounding gorgeous, all these mesmerizing dirges and close-mic’d 12-string guitars are a novel vehicle for Malkmus’s sublime shit talk. Over the balmy raga of opener “ACC Kirtan,” his lyrics defuse any suggestion of New Age mysticism with first-world problems. “The Duraflame’s wet/The ganache won’t set/Where are the rings for my sweet serviettes?” he yowls, alongside accompanist Joy Pearson. “Shadowbanned” lathers its cosmic drones into a heady psych jam, as Malkmus spray-bombs modern lingo inspired by the internet’s deepest, most conspiratorial corners. In the custom of so many of Malkmus’ best songs, it disguises its barbed prose behind an unassuming veneer of aloofness.
Like Groove Denied, Traditional Techniques front-loads its most form-breaking statements. In its second half, the psychedelic edge softens, the woodwinds and sitars fade away, and what’s left is something resembling the straightforward acoustic album Malkmus never seemed interested in making. The songs aren’t flashy, but they’re tender and serene, and they center Malkmus’ voice in a way his previous records rarely did, especially “What Kind of Person,” maybe the most vulnerable song he’s written since “Church on White.” It’s not often Malkmus lets his guard down like this.
Traditional Techniques has been retroactively billed as the third part in a trilogy alongside Sparkle Hard and Groove Denied. On the surface, the three albums have little to do with each other—each was recorded with a different lineup—but collectively they represent a shift in mindset. After years of arch relaxation at the indie rock spa, Malkmus has suddenly started recording like a man with a sprawling bucket list. And while Traditional Techniques easily succeeds as a curiosity, its songs continue to delight after the novelty wears off. The most surprising thing about the album isn’t how far Malkmus has strayed from his comfort zone. It’s how at home he sounds there.
Buy: Rough Trade
