by Christopher J. Lee
Bro-genius? This was the first thought that came to mind when Stephen Malkmus, Matt Sweeney, Emmett Kelly, and Jim White announced the formation of The Hard Quartet. Supergroups can be an easy, if uncommon, sell for record labels. When Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, and Lucy Dacus released their EP on Matador back in 2018, it seemed like a cool, sure thing. A sense of self-consciousness about the “supergroup” label was palpable with Bridgers et al. seeking to flip the script in terms of gender and corporate record label backing. However, by the time The Record was issued by Interscope last year, you could hear the cash registers ring, or whatever the equivalent is in our PayPal/Venmo age. A lead critic at Rolling Stone declared that the album was even better than expected. Groan. Though boygenius went on to win industry accolades, et cetera, The Record was as bland and purposeless as its title: radio friendly, soundtrack ready, TikTok ready. The Record had the effect of smoothing over the rough emotional and musical edges that had brought Bridgers, Dacus, and Baker to prominence. For artistic reasons, their hiatus is a good thing. I am guessing they know this.
The Hard Quartet provide another iteration of this concept, even if the results are, well, harder to assimilate. Like boygenius, their collaboration has a more organic feel than the past superstar collaborations involving Dylan, Harrison, Cash, Nelson, and so forth which more obviously bore the imprimatur of record execs and held as much appeal as watching an NBA All-Star Game. Malkmus and co. have worked together before in different configurations. Matt Sweeney was a key player on Malkmus’ Traditional Techniques from 2020. Kelly and White have recorded periodically with Will Oldham, as has Sweeney with 2005’s Superwolf and 2021’s Superwolves. Taken together, they belong to the same Drag City/Matador universe. Malkmus has remarked elsewhere that they are just a band, and this comment seems in keeping with their past projects and releases. How does it work this time around?
Whether with a sense of irony, sincerity, or just sealing their brand, The Hard Quartet actually do go hard on the first several tracks of their self-titled debut, as if, after all they’ve accomplished during their respective careers, they still have something to prove. “Chrome Mess” rips the bag open with Sweeney and Malkmus trading heavy scuzzed-up guitar riffs like they’re having the time of their lives. Delving further into an early ‘70s garage rock vein, “Earth Hater” continues on this path of swagger and roll, with these two tracks and later ones like “Renegade” making clear that The Hard Quartet are keen, at least initially, to explore the psych-rock legacies of forgotten today, dust bin acts like Blue Cheer, Toad, or Orang-Utan. Much of this is welcome, and the album could have benefited from going further in this direction. Yet, The Hard Quartet soon ventures into other sections of the record store.
With fifteen songs lasting almost an hour, the go-to comparison in terms of length and variety is Exile on Main St. with its analogous eighteen tracks at just over an hour. There is certainly a Rolling Stones vibe to “Rio’s Song”—the music video is an homage to the Stones’ video for “Waiting on a Friend” from 1981, which itself pays homage to Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. “Heel Highway” also imparts a Mick-and-Keef, blues rock feeling circa Sticky Fingers (see “Dead Flowers”). But other references also emerge. “Our Hometown Boy” has the sunniness of the Byrds/Big Star. “Killed by Death” has a country rock feel like the Flying Burrito Brothers. The influence of past projects can also be heard in the backdrop. Will Oldham haunts some of these tracks in perceptible and imperceptible ways (e.g. the exceptional “North of the Border”). “Thug Dynasty” and especially “Action for Military Boys” sound like they could be outtakes from Wowee Zowee. The acoustic “Six Deaf Rats” could find a space on the track listing for Sparkle Hard. Indeed, as The Hard Quartet progresses, things get quieter. To a certain extent, this shift is an improvement, allowing for Jim White’s expressive percussion to play a greater role in shaping the mood of the album.
As implied, Malkmus dominates this album due to his primary, though not exclusive, vocal duties. This new collaboration isn’t Pavement or the Jicks redux, however, if that has to be stated. It lacks the twenty-something fun of the former and the home recording studio jamminess of the latter. That said, it is interesting to compare “Hey” from The Hard Quartet with “Here” from Slanted and Enchanted. “Hey” is something of an answer song to the slack despondency of “Here,” as if Malkmus is performing a séance with a past version of himself. If “Here” was about being ignored and the success that never comes, “Hey” is about the illusions that come with some version of accomplishment and the cognitive dissonance between self and others that can ensue.
Going further, the past year has seen a crop of significant albums from veterans of the last century—Kim Gordon, Thurston Moore, Mary Timony, Beth Gibbons, and Laetitia Sadier, among them—each of whom have given different versions of what it means to age as a musician. The resulting albums have leaned into new directions, leaned into the past, and ultimately leaned into themselves. The Hard Quartet is another example of this trend. In this way, The Hard Quartet are less a supergroup and more an elite club of survivors, who are unable to leave the world they played a role in creating and who seek to extend its reach. This observation isn’t a criticism, but an expression of curiosity about where they might go next.
On the final track, “Gripping the Riptide,” the title of which suggests a sense of mortality, Malkmus delivers the lines, “When I tried to cut my soul in two, there was nothing much inside except the dregs of youth.” The song has a valedictory quality like “Fillmore Jive” at the end of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. Except in this instance, he is not singing goodnight to the rock and roll era. He is sharing the hard-won truths that come in late career.
It is unclear how much gas The Hard Quartet has for exploring such issues. These guys clearly want to just rock out, too. But confronting this kind of self-knowledge and its meanings may, in the end, be the hardest element of The Hard Quartet.