'Animal Midnight,' Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks
From 2003's 'Pig Lib'

Can a song wear sunglasses? Specifically, those neon-colored rubber ones with the stretchy straps so they won't fall off when you go jet skiing? You know, the kind of sunglasses dogs wear in beer commercials?

Well, I know one song that wears sunglasses. Flip-flops, too. 'Animal Midnight' is so groovy it can usually be found hanging out at summer barbecues, holding an ice-cold beer and watching the sunset. And I'm usually right there, one arm thrown around the song's shoulders, just drinking it all in. You see, 'Animal Midnight' is my hands-down, all-time indie-rock summer jam, and we chill with each other quite a bit this time of year.

Stuck smack in the middle of 'Pig Lib,' Steve Malkmus' second album with his post-Pavement band the Jicks, 'Midnight' typifies SM's newfound penchant for the laid back, guitar-heavy (dare I say "jammy") rock of 1970s FM radio. With its tequila sunrise groove and not one, but two stellar guitar solos, the music is more Lynyrd Skynyrd or Molly Hatchet than Pavement. But fear not -- liking this song won't turn you into a hacky-sackin' trust fund hippie. Malkmus doesn't abandon his trademark lyrical quirks, and if you listen closely, you'll hear something totally incongruous: behind all the nonsense lyrics lurks a bitter breakup song. So, you can lay back and, like, totally dig that warm ocean breeze, all while keeping your indie street cred intact.

Jason Persse is a Spinner reader from Brooklyn, New York. When not wasting time watching zombie movies, he works as a writer and editor.

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