Pig Lib
STEPHEN MALKMUS AND THE JICKS
Matador Records
Being dubbed the peach of all-things-indie is a tough gig. And Steve Malkmus knows this. Still, he embraces it casually, as his new album Pig Lib suggests.
Efforts to distance himself from previous outings (most notably Pavement's Terror Twilight and his self-titled debut) are definite yet subtle as Pig Lib feels more like an extension of his prog-rock leanings than a complete departure from what we've come to expect. The result has as much to do with his band's development as it does with Malkmus himself. On such songs as "(Do Not Feed The) Oyster" and "Animal Midnight," the Jicks complement the Tom Verlaine-esque guitar noodlings, however brilliant they may be, by holding them in place.
A notable exception is the nine minute-plus epic jam "One Percent of One," where the overall feel is of Black Sabbath covering Dark Side of the Moon. Seventies-era rock guitar is a presence throughout the entire album, working mostly to satisfy geek-rock bloodthirst, but on "One Percent" it falls flat. Redemption, however, soon follows, as the next song ("Us") embraces an unapologetically relaxed, almost country feel.
For new initiates, this may be the most accessible album in the Malkmus/Pavement catalog and a good introduction to the odd wordplay that he's known for. For example, "The avenue is in a panic/ Bob Packwood wants to suck your toes" is Malkmus name-dropping the notorious former Oregon senator. Odd? Yes, but wonderfully so.
What's more, with the first 25,000 copies of Pig Lib comes a five-song EP featuring three damn fine studio outtakes and a couple of live tracks as well. It's enough to make you wear out the "repeat" function on your CD player. 
—Mark Sanders
The Intercontinentals
BILL FRISELL
Nonesuch
Thanks, Bill, for another installment of barrier-busting music. This time, the good Mr. Frisell, a guitarist, composer and sonic frontiersman, has delved into the realm of world music. His ensemble includes two Americans, pedal steel/slide guitarist Greg Leisz and violinist Jenny Scheinman; Brazilian guitarist/singer Vinicius Cantuaria; Greek-Macedonian Christos Govetas (oud, bouzouki, vocals); and Mali's Sidiki Camera on percussion and vocals. In the hands of a less visionary leader, The Intercontinentals could have been a cluster fuck. But Frisell has the uncanny knack of thoroughly integrating an intricate web of instruments, textures and loops, all refracted through his own, highly personalized prism. You can hear readily obvious elements of African, Greek, Middle Eastern and Brazilian styles, but somehow the music never loses its inherent American-ness, that sense of the high lonesome, of openness, of possibility. There's also a fair amount of good, honest twang here, as well. The Intercontinentals emphasizes the commonalities of different ethnic music rather than their distinctions. No easy feat. And Frisell doesn't shrink from odd juxtapositions. "Procissao" is a galloping Brazilian-style song (with lyrics sung in Portuguese) with a middle section that features a warbling chant in the vein of Pakistani sufi music. Frisell continues on his path of emphasizing the collective rather than the individual. So instead of Frisell solos, we get snippets and wisps of his trademark sound in the context of everything else. Personally, I'd love to see the spotlight shine on Frisell some — his guitar solos are what turned me on to him in the first place. Maybe next time. Until then, The Intercontinentals is quite an achievement.
—Eric Snider
The Fine Art of Self-Destruction
JESSE MALIN
Artemis
It's easy to compare Jesse Malin to ex-Whiskeytown frontman Ryan Adams (who produced The Fine Art of Self-Destruction). Both sing introspective, country-tinged rock songs with subdued vocal deliveries that can change into Springsteen-esque growls. But while Adams writes somber tunes around his glum lyrics, Malin's arrangements can be unfittingly upbeat. For instance, on "Queen of the Underworld," Malin sings longingly about a girl from his past, but he's accompanied by soaring backing vocals and a cheerful guitar riff. Malin sounds his best when he ditches the overdubs and keeps it to piano or organ, percussion and an acoustic guitar — as he does on "Brooklyn," "Solitaire" and "Riding on the Subway." With his amazing ability to paint a picture with his lyrics, Malin offers an indie rock alternative to the John Mayer-style singer/songwriters, but his musical arrangements on The Fine Art of Self Destruction are usually off target.
—Chris Berger
Shades of Blue: Madlib Invades Blue Note
MADLIB
Blue Note
Shades of Blue is the most ambitious jazz/hip-hop hybrid ever made. Blue Note, the fabled jazz label, gave an upstart called Madlib the keys to its vaults. No gold-grilled thug from the projects, Madlib is Otis Jackson Jr., son of soul singer Otis Jackson, nephew of jazz trumpet great John Faddis. He's one of hip-hop's visionary producers and MCs. He plays a variety of instruments in the guise of Yesterday's New Quintet. Madlib didn't just settle for a remix record. He chopped up, deconstructed, reconceptualized and added beats to music by the likes of Horace Silver, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Donald Byrd, Gene Harris, Ronnie Foster, Andrew Hill and others. In some cases, he simply recut his own version of a tune as Yesterday's New Quintet. In other cases he added musicians or rappers. Folks obsessed with methodology and album credits will find Shades of Blue confusing and frustrating. It took me awhile, but I found the best way to approach the disc is this: It's a beast like no other; don't get so caught up in analysis that you miss the music. Don't wrestle with questions like, "Why would this cat, with access to the multi-track masters of the entire Blue Note catalogue, even think about performing and overdubbing his own versions?" (These re-recordings, by the way, are the weakest parts of the CD.) Best to just let the music stand on its own, let it flow. Some of it's great, some of it's merely good and a bit of it is tedious. About what you'd expect from a project that sets the bar so high. 1/2
—Eric Snider
This article appears in Jun 26 – Jul 2, 2003.