There’s a line on “Lariat,” the buoyant lead single from Stephen Malkmus’ sixth solo record, Wig Out at Jagbags (Matador Records), which might just be the best and most telling couplet he’s written in the 14 years he’s been going it alone. When he sings, “We lived on Tennyson and venison and the Grateful Dead. It was Mudhoney summer, Torch of Mystics, double bummer,” he speaks to both the nostalgia he helped build and the aging hipster he has grown to be. At once he has the ability to mock Jerry, praise the Sun City Girls, and retreat to indifferent alliterations. He’s going to be around whether you like it or not, and whether you are bothering to pay attention is none of his concern. By the time the album unfolds towards its end with the grooving “Cinnamon and Lesbians,” he’s even dropped in a guitar line ripped directly from Dead staple “St. Stephen.” How’s that for post-fatherhood irony? Again, though, he’s allowed. You’re allowed! It’s the pass you give your favorite uncle when he wants to smoke you up and talk about seeing April Wine once at Hara Arena. Malkmus’ craft comes directly from too many LPs and too many crosswords puzzles, melodious barbs and turns of phrase up-cycled over and over into a familiar milieu each time there’s a new album.

To that end, Wig Out at Jagbags is totally inoffensive. It’s another grab bag of comfortable pop, with occasional gems and plenty of wisdom, with a few outright smirks and references to Obama and Slim Shady. At this point, who knows if “dropping dimes” are the words of a genius or downright goofy? Regardless, “Chartjunk” is the purest song on this year’s model. It has the effervescent bop of a skittering Pavement song, the thoughtful jam of the solo favorite Real Emotional Trash, as well as a delicate arrangement of brass that seamlessly floats in and out of this version of the Jicks. That’s followed by the equally breezy “Independence Street,” which is the kind of languid, country-tinged ballad that has quietly become Malkmus’ bread and butter. There are also complete downers, like “The Janitor Revealed,” and an out-of-bounds punk-reggae spoof on “Rumble at the Rainbo,” but minutes later the record returns to a happy medium. He’s not out to change the world, he’s too old for a revolution and seems to acknowledge that much throughout Wig Out, and that’s absolutely okay. Remember, this is a guy who lives a charmed life in the afterglow of Pavement and the smooth curl of his life after the glow. There’s no animosity or angst, just positive vibes and great recommendations for dim sum in Berlin.