EASE DOWN THE ROAD

ANOTHER DAY WITH STEPHEN 

I can with no trouble recall buying my first Pavement CD (the Shady Lane EP, age 19) and I’ll never misplace the memories of the first time I saw that band’s leading man, Stephen Malkmus, perform after his band broke up, guitar solos ringing through his shaggy mop-top as he ironically tore through solos behind his head. I was much younger then and, no matter how much I loved all my Malkmus-releated albums, figured I’d come across an endless supply of modern artists who would appeal to me with the power Stephen did and still does. Regular Ease readers no doubt know how much I appreciate guys like Jeff Tweedy, Ryan Adams, David Berman, Paul Westerberg, Will Oldham and the like, but, sadly, I’ve never quite found another Malkmus. Not even close, actually.

I write this week from a slightly frazzled, self-indulgent state, one that finds me topped with oily hair, an empty bank account, greasy road-food burning in my gut and oil-barrel bags under my eyes. It’s a boring story, one that might demand a little bit of modest spice. Said frazzled state began after receiving word that a number of my friends who had - like me - gone online weeks earlier to pre-order a copy of Malkmus’ fourth solo album, Real Emotional Trash, had received their CD. No CD for me, not yet. Following another disappointing visit from the postman this past Saturday, I decided to spend the next day in the car, driving to out-of-town stores in search of a copy of said album. Sounds nuts, right? After all, my journey to find an album that was to be officially released on Tuesday, March 4 took place on Sunday, March 2. And on top of that, Matador Records had sent me a CDR copy of the album weeks earlier (hence the wordy review on page 27 of this issue), and I still had a pre-ordered copy of the disc scheduled to eventually hit my mailbox.

 Am I nuts? Sure, always have been. Irresponsible, too, but only about things like this. Daydreams of going into a store and picking up and purchasing the official issue of an album I knew I’d be listening to and cherishing for years to come can make me forget just about everything. The simple thought of holding an official copy of the new Malkmus album in my crazy hands for the first time had me running to my car on Sunday morning, worn-out copy of Slanted and Enchanted under my arm. I was drowsy and not exactly sure where I was headed, but I had a hero waiting for me and at least six hours before 5 p.m., the time most small retail stores close on Sundays.

Also in tow was a bag of old CDs no store in town seemed interested in buying from me, a warm can of third-rate Diet Dr. Pepper, a few Kinks albums and a tattered road atlas. Highway food aside, it was a fun trip for the most part, one that was successful in some ways and revelatory in others. But more on that later; we have a story to finish. The second store I went to, lucky for me, had received copies of Malkmus’ latest effort two days earlier and, street date be damned, contentedly scattered them all throughout their store. This was the place. I took the 40 or so superfluous albums from my collection I’d brought with me to the counter and within 15 minutes was offered $60 worth of in-store credit for about 30 of them - not exactly the deal of a lifetime. Fine, I thought, but I had to at least use the remaining $47 of credit on albums I couldn’t easily get in Fort Wayne. I couldn’t find any copies of my sub-mission, the two-disc reissue of Whiskeytown’s Stranger’s Almanac (which was also set to be released two days later), so I settled for J. Tillman’s Minor Works, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s Wilding In the West and Flowers Forevers’ eponymous debut. Oh, and I also found a copy of Swell Maps’ debut, A Trip to Marineville, an album that was always said to be one of the chief influences on Pavement’s early work. Very fitting, considering the day I was having. Not a bad haul, I figured, knowing full well that only Trash would reach the player on my ride home.

About halfway through my trek back to Sox-Smith Manner I started wondering if what I’d just done was acceptable. At 28 years old do I still have entire days to throw away? Is it still acceptable to selfishly forget about your life for a short time so you can skip town to only possibly acquire an official copy of an album you’ve already heard 60 times just one day before you could find it at your local record shop? No, it’s not okay. Or at least it probably isn’t to most people. Some people like tattoos or birthing children or jewelry or hard drugs or cars; people “like me” like albums. Need albums. Little $12-$16 plastic discs full of sound. Real physical product, not downloadable ones and zeroes that will someday be lost when your hard drive kicks the bucket. Despite their low-dollar prices, I’d argue that I like buying new albums from my heroes just as much as a professional athlete enjoys flying across the country to look at an expensive piece of jewelry. Every bit as much as an aspiring businessman fawns over the idea of treating himself to higher grade business cards.

Back home, five or so Trash-filled hours later, I took a nap, woke up and realized that I still resemble the person I discovered I was just a few years earlier. I hadn’t given up on my dreams or cooled on my passions as I so feared I would. I was still getting paid to work with music and still kept up with new artists and albums as much as ever. Maybe I’d lost my edge in other ways, but I was still sticking with the thing that had always been my thing: music. I came to the eventual conclusion that I’d grown up in many ways but could still allow myself occasional streaks of unplanned ridiculousness - something I think every sane person needs from time to time, if only as a way to measure their own lucidness. That, and I got to spend an entire extra day of my life listening to a killer album I’d only previously heard via the trashy MP3 format. No regrets. Not when you’re involved, Stephen.

Send your own hare-brained stories of obsession to me at greg.whatzup@gmail.com for possible publishing on this blog.

Ease Down the Road’s current four-disc rotation: Stephen Malkmus’ Real Emotional Trash; Swell Maps’ A Trip to Marineville; J. Tillman’s Minor Works; The Kinks’ Sleepwalker 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 4th, 2008 at 8:39 pm and is filed under Ease Down the Road. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site. Edit this entry.