The Hard Quartet: The Hard Quartet

The Hard Quartet may just be the quintessential supergroup.

Pillars of the ’90s underground as we known it, the four-piece that is Stephen Malkmus, Matt Sweeney, Emmett Kelly and Jim White need no introduction. While each has carved out their own sound world over the past four decades, there’s a common path that leads to the same destination: namely The Hard Quartet’s self-titled debut long-player.

Over the years, there have been similar collaborations that have failed to hit the mark, but this isn’t one of them. 15 songs-deep ranging from two to five minutes, The Hard Quartet is the album’s album. A victory for the bedraggled middle-aged bloke still buying records, going to gigs and wearing crusty band T-shirts.

It’s hard to find the initial thread of the patchwork The Hard Quartet weave here. Perhaps one could start with Pavement’s 2022 glittery renaissance in front of tens of thousands of fans at Primavera’s Barcelona edition. The scenes, something that almost had to be seen to be believed. It was a special night, and one that may have been the spark which ignited Malkmus to write the songs that spearhead The Hard Quartet. (His songs aren’t the only hallmark card; Sweeney’s work is equally as beautiful.)

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The rhythm section boasts its own recent history, too. On paper, White has had his busiest year as a musician, period. This being his second new collaboration – the first, the experimental four-piece Beings. The Australian percussionist has also released his first solo album, All Hits: Memories, made another record with experimental guitarist Marisa Anderson while also rekindling the majesty of the Dirty Three with their long-awaited return. So too Kelly, as The Cairo Gang’s leader adds yet another collaboration to his ever-growing resume.

Together, the four-piece produce something that is a cohesive triumph. Like a reunion of your favourite band from another universe. It starts with the engine purr of Sweeney’s amp and White’s old world civil war percussion on Chrome Mess. With Malkmus’ squiggly guitar jams tying up his vocals in knots, the result is something akin to T. Rex on psychedelics. And while Earth Hater sits more in line with Malkmus’ abstract Tom Robbins-esque narratives through the haze of bong smoke (“The archetype of the narc is eternal”), it’s confirmed: the ‘brain gallop’ is on.

On Rio’s Song, it’s Sweeney turn to lead the band, and he does so with a forlorn tale of a lost friend, echoing the earthy sonics that rival anything Cass McCombs has produced over the last decade. Like passing a bottle of whisky around the room, it’s Kelly’s turn to take a hit and tell a tale of his own with the gentle Our Hometown Boy – a song of self-deprecation (“For the bass man, he’s such a show off”). His sweet melodies guiding the band back into the past with something that radiates with Byrdsian charm.

The tourism of sound continues with Renegade as Malkmus showcases his love of punk, and with White’s rifling percussion, he finds a worthy ally. An ode to the genre, it doesn’t last long as the woodsy majesty of Heel Highway sees the band revelling in real time. Malkmus’ voice hasn’t sounded better, riding along the rhythms with something that sits between a back porch serenade and a road-trip companion. The story itself, an anxious one as love and roguish energy make for a concoction of uncertainty (“For all the sound and chatter / You’re only mixed up matter”).

It’s not the only time Malkmus reveals his tender side. The sunroof sway of Six Deaf Rats sees him baring his soul (“I was a galleon for your raging love / Sail eternity, true / Fell for a singer with a dead eye drawl / I was right into you”), while the excellent blues-laden closer, Gripping the Riptide, seals the deal. (“When I try to cut my soul in two / There was nothing much inside  / Except the dregs of youth.”) The trio of songs, new world Malkmus and the results are splendid.

The gold rush continues on Killed By Death and It Suits You, where Sweeney leads with the kind of shining electric folk that matches perfectly with White’s effortless percussion. The pair, aligning like long lost brothers in something that could be the catalyst for future work between the two.

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Meanwhile, Hey is the song you want Malkmus to write time and time again. Bliss rock that comes too easy for him, evoking the same breezy currents of sound as, say, Deado. And while his slacker principles make themselves heard on Action for the Military Boys, it’s tempered by Sweeney’s campfire rattle on Jacked Existence. With a line like “Hide your highways / Spit ’em out sideways”, it’s like a late-night bar ramble that reveals a comfort-in-strangers’ vibe.

Kelly returns for one last hurrah on North of the Border. A broken ballad with the south once again the backdrop (“The emptiest smiles cover miles and miles and miles”). Like Sweeney’s Jacked Existence, you just want more of it.

“I would like to surrender to the illusion / Sound in vacuum wandering the planet alone” sings Malkmus on Hey. It’s classic Malkmus, messing with the mind by marrying random words and thoughts that shake out differently every time. Ultimately, it’s how he stole the hearts of a generation, and with this new one all but shunning the concept of the album, as strange as it may sound, the songs on The Hard Quartet have the power to do the same.

The Hard Quartet is out now via Matador Records. Purchase from Bandcamp.