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Photo by Josh Whitehead
*DELETE THIS TEXT--
ALWAYS KEEP THIS SPACE 25 PIXELS!*
Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks
Starr Hill Music Hall
November 13, 2001
Charlottesville, Virginia

DELETE THIS TEXT--KEEP THE SPACE 15 PIXELS!

When Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, one song into their encore Tuesday night, start into the Velvet Underground’s "Sister Ray," a few knowing looks are exchanged. It is the perfect moment—the lord of the underground covering the subterranean kings’ greatest song. Since the early ‘90s, Malkmus, first as frontman for Pavement and now solo, has been the emblem of what is commonly referred to as alternative rock. "Smart-ass rock," as an associate of mine calls it, because Malkmus songs are often filled with clever lyrics paired with more complex than usual music. But no matter how funny, insightful or just plain goofy, the songs—buoyed by his expert guitar-playing—always flat-out rock.

Tonight, the show has taken on more significance than the average event. As a former graduate of the University of Virginia, Malkmus is being celebrated—which may help explain the presence of the sorority girls to my left. Did he pledge Sigma Chi? Thoroughly inebriated, they may not have any idea who or what Sister Ray is, but when Malkmus sings "Too busy licking on my ding-dong," the girls cheer. That apparently they know.

After five minutes of "Sister Ray," Malkmus & the Jicks shift into a snippet of the Doors’ "L.A. Woman"—"City of night, city of night"—before moving into an extended slice of ‘70s southern rock, "That’s What Mama Said." After a lengthy solo, the familiar crunching chords of Elastica’s "Connection" sound out, with Malkmus supplying the siren-like sound effects by voice and often, instead of lyrics, a simple "blah-blah-blah." Although these songs all share the same three chords, they aren’t exactly a natural fit. Still, in the hands of Malkmus, it all works. The night’s performance has featured material mostly from Malkmus’ one solo album and some B-sides. But this amalgamation of covers—the fine with the banal—gets at the quiddity of Stephen Malkmus.

"Anything that is too stupid to be spoken is sung," said Voltaire. But he never heard Bob Dylan who, on Bringing It All Back Home, made rock and roll something to be thought about and not just felt. Some thirty years later, Malkmus is still working off this idea and dare I say improving on it, making music that you can thrust your pelvis to while simultaneously nodding your head.

—Jayson Whitehead