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<?php function trim_string($string = '', $start =0, $limit = 100 ){ $string = strip_tags($string); if( strlen( $string > $limit )){ $string = substr( $string, $start, $limit ); $string .= '...'; } return htmlspecialchars($string); } $a = '2003\'s <em>Pig Lib</em> retrospectively casts Stephen Malkmus\' self-titled debut as an anomaly. The debut\'s relative accessibility might have falsely suggested that Malkmus\' dalliances with prog, as heard on Pavement\'s controversial final album <em>Terror Twilight</em>, were behind him, but <em>Pig Lib</em> defies expectation not only by reintroducing those elements, but by reintroducing them so explicitly. The result is Malkmus\' greatest album to date, one that perfectly balances his magisterial guitar playing with the songwriting on which he built his name. By now, Malkmus had internalized his rock fixations, and <em>Pig Lib</em> is the sound of these fixations secreting from his pores. He\'s smart enough to acknowledge rock\'s primal power but canny enough to not embrace its signifiers with too much outward jean jacket zeal; like a master chef counting single grains of cumin, he understands that a little Thin Lizzy goes a long way. Consistently underrated as a composer and arranger, the Malkmus of <em>Pig Lib</em> is full of surprises, whether in the form of abrupt tempo changes, mid-song introductions of new sonic colors, or protracted codas (Oh, how Malkmus loves a coda!). Following the first chorus of "(Do Not Feed The) Oyster," the song careens into an unexpected middle section featuring twin harmonizing lead guitars and backwards effects before plummeting back into the regularly scheduled pop song, like some very psychedelic test of the emergency broadcast system. It\'s a great, succinct sampler of millennial Malkmus: psych in microcosm, prog in miniature. The breezy "Vanessa From Queens" combines cheapo Casio factory pre-sets, handclaps, and a stereo-panned, direct-to-soundboard guitar straight off <em>All Things Must Pass</em>, while the oddly triumphant-sounding "Dark Wave" is "Embassy Row" recast at the place where power metal meets power pop. How much you enjoy the epic "1% Of One" will depend on your patience for guitar solos, which take up more than half of the song\'s nine minutes. Puzzling out notes in real time with jazz-improv logic, Malkmus dots, doodles, and snarls his way through the tensile improvisation with great authority; you can almost hear him surprising himself as the solo builds, like an obstacle course participant whose every incremental victory exponentially builds confidence for the next challenge. "1% Of One" is a song that, like the rest of <em>Pig Lib</em>, has little to do with the albatross of a legacy, but everything to do with greatness in spite of it.'; $b = 'Featuring not one, but two explicit references to the Grateful Dead (one lyrical, one musical), <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em> is the sound of Malkmus -- a guy who, let\'s face it, probably would have always chosen a seat at the PGA tournament over a South by Southwest lanyard -- considerably mellowed. (Ironically, the album is named after a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wig_Out_at_Denko%27s">similarly titled 1987 album</a> by pop punk pioneers Dag Nasty). Watch any recent interview with Malkmus on YouTube and try to reconcile the affable, congenial man onscreen with the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t92FpC-7Zt0">contemptuous younger version of himself</a> responding to many of the same moronic questions. From his candor to <em>Rolling Stone</em> about the album\'s non-candidacy as a �classic\' (quoted and hyperlinked in this piece\'s introduction), to its occasional cornball attempts at humor, <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em> feels like an easy, low-stakes ride, a naturalist portrait of the Jargon King in repose. Recall the young Malkmus on Pavement\'s "Range Life" taking smart-kid potshots at then-untouchable alternative rock demigods Smashing Pumpkins and low-hanging fruit Stone Temple Pilots; twenty years later, on <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em>\' bouncy first single "Lariat," we find Malkmus cheerfully giving shout-outs to albums he actually <em>likes</em>. This focus on the positive does not, however, come at the expense of wit: In the same song, Malkmus treats us to one of his trademark lyrical ambiguities, singing "We grew up listening to the music from the best decade ever/ Talkin\' bout the eighties," but adds a syllabic stutter to the word "eighties," pronouncing it "A-D-Ds." A sly reference to a certain disorder whose criteria was formerly established by the Psychiatric Association during said decade? Possibly. It\'s certainly no less a stretch that trying to parse why Malkmus changes the word "career" to "Korea" on "Cut Your Hair," or replaces, at the very last millisecond, the pronoun "I" with "they" when discussing the functionless nature kids described in "Range Life." Indeed, Malkmus remains as loveably mischievous as ever; there\'s even a song on <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em> that\'s ostensibly about (or is at least named after) Detroit Pistons power forward Josh Smith, for goodness sakes. <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em> also improves upon the expanded musical range heard on the disappointing <em>Mirror Traffic</em>, and though this eclecticism again results in some of the expected schizophonia, the qualitative ratio has improved dramatically. Clear highlights are the Silver-Jews-Visit-Haight-Ashbury waltz of "Independence Street" and opening cut "Planetary Motion," which shifts between tricky 11/4, 6/4, and 7/4 time but conceals its elaborate construction beneath a melody that\'s as much an earworm as anything MTV played in the "A-D-Ds." Aging gracefully looks good on Malkmus, and <em>Wig Out At Jagbags</em> hints that he may have a few classics in him yet, after all.'; var_dump(strip_tags($a)); var_dump(strip_tags($b));
Output for git.master, git.master_jit, rfc.property-hooks
string(2470) "2003's Pig Lib retrospectively casts Stephen Malkmus' self-titled debut as an anomaly. The debut's relative accessibility might have falsely suggested that Malkmus' dalliances with prog, as heard on Pavement's controversial final album Terror Twilight, were behind him, but Pig Lib defies expectation not only by reintroducing those elements, but by reintroducing them so explicitly. The result is Malkmus' greatest album to date, one that perfectly balances his magisterial guitar playing with the songwriting on which he built his name. By now, Malkmus had internalized his rock fixations, and Pig Lib is the sound of these fixations secreting from his pores. He's smart enough to acknowledge rock's primal power but canny enough to not embrace its signifiers with too much outward jean jacket zeal; like a master chef counting single grains of cumin, he understands that a little Thin Lizzy goes a long way. Consistently underrated as a composer and arranger, the Malkmus of Pig Lib is full of surprises, whether in the form of abrupt tempo changes, mid-song introductions of new sonic colors, or protracted codas (Oh, how Malkmus loves a coda!). Following the first chorus of "(Do Not Feed The) Oyster," the song careens into an unexpected middle section featuring twin harmonizing lead guitars and backwards effects before plummeting back into the regularly scheduled pop song, like some very psychedelic test of the emergency broadcast system. It's a great, succinct sampler of millennial Malkmus: psych in microcosm, prog in miniature. The breezy "Vanessa From Queens" combines cheapo Casio factory pre-sets, handclaps, and a stereo-panned, direct-to-soundboard guitar straight off All Things Must Pass, while the oddly triumphant-sounding "Dark Wave" is "Embassy Row" recast at the place where power metal meets power pop. How much you enjoy the epic "1% Of One" will depend on your patience for guitar solos, which take up more than half of the song's nine minutes. Puzzling out notes in real time with jazz-improv logic, Malkmus dots, doodles, and snarls his way through the tensile improvisation with great authority; you can almost hear him surprising himself as the solo builds, like an obstacle course participant whose every incremental victory exponentially builds confidence for the next challenge. "1% Of One" is a song that, like the rest of Pig Lib, has little to do with the albatross of a legacy, but everything to do with greatness in spite of it." string(2831) "Featuring not one, but two explicit references to the Grateful Dead (one lyrical, one musical), Wig Out At Jagbags is the sound of Malkmus -- a guy who, let's face it, probably would have always chosen a seat at the PGA tournament over a South by Southwest lanyard -- considerably mellowed. (Ironically, the album is named after a similarly titled 1987 album by pop punk pioneers Dag Nasty). Watch any recent interview with Malkmus on YouTube and try to reconcile the affable, congenial man onscreen with the contemptuous younger version of himself responding to many of the same moronic questions. From his candor to Rolling Stone about the album's non-candidacy as a �classic' (quoted and hyperlinked in this piece's introduction), to its occasional cornball attempts at humor, Wig Out At Jagbags feels like an easy, low-stakes ride, a naturalist portrait of the Jargon King in repose. Recall the young Malkmus on Pavement's "Range Life" taking smart-kid potshots at then-untouchable alternative rock demigods Smashing Pumpkins and low-hanging fruit Stone Temple Pilots; twenty years later, on Wig Out At Jagbags' bouncy first single "Lariat," we find Malkmus cheerfully giving shout-outs to albums he actually likes. This focus on the positive does not, however, come at the expense of wit: In the same song, Malkmus treats us to one of his trademark lyrical ambiguities, singing "We grew up listening to the music from the best decade ever/ Talkin' bout the eighties," but adds a syllabic stutter to the word "eighties," pronouncing it "A-D-Ds." A sly reference to a certain disorder whose criteria was formerly established by the Psychiatric Association during said decade? Possibly. It's certainly no less a stretch that trying to parse why Malkmus changes the word "career" to "Korea" on "Cut Your Hair," or replaces, at the very last millisecond, the pronoun "I" with "they" when discussing the functionless nature kids described in "Range Life." Indeed, Malkmus remains as loveably mischievous as ever; there's even a song on Wig Out At Jagbags that's ostensibly about (or is at least named after) Detroit Pistons power forward Josh Smith, for goodness sakes. Wig Out At Jagbags also improves upon the expanded musical range heard on the disappointing Mirror Traffic, and though this eclecticism again results in some of the expected schizophonia, the qualitative ratio has improved dramatically. Clear highlights are the Silver-Jews-Visit-Haight-Ashbury waltz of "Independence Street" and opening cut "Planetary Motion," which shifts between tricky 11/4, 6/4, and 7/4 time but conceals its elaborate construction beneath a melody that's as much an earworm as anything MTV played in the "A-D-Ds." Aging gracefully looks good on Malkmus, and Wig Out At Jagbags hints that he may have a few classics in him yet, after all."

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