Illinois Entertainer April 2020 | Page 20

filled with darkness. At least it’s littered with earworms that attach themselves to the cilia of the eardrums, rewarding each listen with a melodic bit of hope. – Curt Baran 7 PEARL JAM Gigaton (Monkeywrench/Republic) Pearl Jam’s timing for their end of the Pearl Jam’s timing for the end of the world record is impeccable. The Seattle-based quartet’s recorded output has been stalled for nearly seven years, and apparently, they have some shit they want to get off their chests. The band’s eleventh record, Gigaton, also finds its members looking for new ways to express it. Musically, its the most adventurous the band has sounded since 1996’s No Code. The opening one-two punch of “Whoever Said” and “Superblood Wolfmoon” would seem to indicate busi- ness as usual. The former encapsulates a frantic, attacking urgency that the band has all but copy written throughout their career, and the latter is a pounding 4/4 stomper that sounds like a throwback to a younger man’s game. But then “Dance Of The Clairvoyants” arrives, sounding like noth- ing the band has ever done. The elastic bass groove (played by rhythm guitarist Stone Gossard) dare I say, “swings,” as a Gang Of Four guitar attack lacerates one of the most intricate melodies the band has ever con- structed. And prophetic lyrics like “Numbers keep falling off the calenders floor/Stuck in our boxes/Windows open no more” seemingly possess eerie foresight in the age of a pandemic. Whatever creative wave they caught in the studio, well, they ride it until it crests. “Buckle Up” perches itself atop an almost nursery rhyme guitar phrasing and parks on a groove that feels equally fragile. Never ones to bite their tongues, there’s still plenty of tape left over for spleen-venting against the current administration. “Quick Escape” envisions a whimsical farce that finds its protagonists escaping to Mars, the reason being “The lengths we had to go to then/To find a place Trump hadn’t fucked up yet.” The soundbed that lies underneath it matches the lyrical content's vitriol. "Seven O’ Clock” continues with the same thematic mood and another intricate hook that calls out the “Sitting Bullshit as our sitting president.” At the center of it all, is vocalist Eddie Vedder. His rich baritone chews up scenery and every available syllable, helping to sell the disdain that infects our everyday lives in this nonsensical political climate. “Stand back when the spirit comes,” he sings at one point. Quite obviously, his bandmates abide by the specter’s visitation. Musically, the band has never sounded more in the pock- et. “It’s not a negative thought…I’m posi- tive,” Vedder declares at one point, one of the brief moments of light in a document STEPHEN MALKMUS Tradtional Techniques (Matador) When Pavement first entered the rock scene nearly 30 years ago, they stood out like a sore thumb. While they were lo-fi, they weren’t punk, and while they had pop melodies, those were buried under tape hiss and inside jokes. Frontman Stephen Malkmus never went for a stylis- tic makeover, instead slowly fermenting his sound into something very original. When Pavement disbanded right on the verge of breaking through, it was classic Malkmus. Instead of going solo and work- ing towards a crossover hit, he put togeth- er a new band (The Jicks) and got more idiosyncratic. Flirting with jam-band whimsy, Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks had the best of both worlds. Instrumental sophistication that hit a jazz-like mael- strom was paired with humor and a lyrical coyness always prominent in those early Pavement classics. Last year’s **Groove Denied album found him testing the waters with a jagged, electronics-based sound. This year's Traditional Techniques finds him (along with Matt Sweeney) try- ing out a whole new brand of caftan. At first glance, his “acoustic” album, Traditional Techniques, eschews classic alt- rocker-going-acoustic with flourishes of sitars, dobros, rababs, and other markers of world music-making this indeed a step outside most alt-rock comfort zones. The lyrics conjure (or send up?) a smarmy, west coast elitism that mentions ganache, shadow-banning, and “cherry ideas.” Continued on page 24 Continued on page 24 20 illinoisentertainer.com march 2020