All of the Malk-man's solo attempts are of some utility. His first post-Pavement platter is a goofball's affair, quirky pop gems that McCartney might manage. Real Emotional Trash sated his masturbatory guitar wankery needs. His most recent is the obligatory "Beck must produce my album in 2011" jammy. This is the middle, this one solves the riddle. Short-stuff, long-form, solo shredding, double tracked pop yumminess. Its all here and there. And all done with his clever lil twists of phrase. I'll proffer two cents.
The Yoga Olympics:
Pencil Rot, It Kills, I've Hardly Been, No More Shoes
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