A Pavement mini-essay, in two parts:
Part 1: "No Pavement Reunion Now!"
As a long-time opponent of reunion tours generally (Pixies, I am angrily and ominously pointing my finger at you), the announcement in late 2009 of the Pavement reunion concerts caused me particular chagrin. As a 15 year old just then delving into interesting music in general and the catalog of Pavement in particular, the 1999 dissolution of that slapdash, lackidasical band left me feeling particularly left out and passed over and fucking unlucky. For some unknown reason, my parents had chosen to raise their children in a rural backwater of Southwestern Colorado, meaning the chance of seeing any non-bluegrass or jam-band-oriented concert was pretty much nil. The further consequence of this was that I had had virtually no chance of ever seeing Pavement perform, and then, suddenly, I had absolutely no chance.
It was crushing. And yet, hearing now that SM and Spiral Stairs will join the rest of the gang in a series of new performances, I can only feel depressed.
Reunion concerts, by and large, are moot exercises, an embarrassing and unnecessary besmirching of something legendary. Now, the first thing that most reunion naysayers would probably bring up at this juncture is money. "Oh, those sell-outs, they're only doing it for the MONEY." I don't give a shit about that. If Bob Nastanovich has some massive gambling debts he needs to pay off, and this is the solution he came up with, well, then that's how it's got to be. But I have to stand in principled opposition to a Pavement reunion, despite their motives. In fact, it's almost worse if they're not "only doing it for the money"--it means they think they still have something to offer us!
Perhaps that's a cynical view, but looking at the band's evolution over their five studio albums (and then over into the first Malkmus solo album, which is arguably Terror Twilight part II), one will see a fascinating, band-wide progression and development. The story lies not just in the fight between SM and Kannberg for artistic control (a storyline which has apparently been highly exaggerated anyway), but in the quiet way in which Pavement overtook the '90s indie rock scene: they began as a ramshackle duo, a half-ass avoidance of a band, and grew into one of the most influential bands of their time. Because of this history, one is hard-pressed to see what else, exactly, Pavement has to say. Malkmus' frustration and feelings of constriction finally grew to the point where he broke up the band (steamrolling over Terror Twilight on his way out), Kannberg moved on to the neglected Preston School of Industry, and Mark Ibold is now an official member of Sonic Youth. Fuck if I know what Steve West and Bob are doing now.*
The point is that it's all over and done with now, and all of that history, good and bad, contributed to the overall idea that is the band Pavement. To tack on a shitty reunion tour now is just bad form, and it's boring, and so very unlike what I always considered the band to be. They were snotty, they were too smart for their won good, and they were laid back, man. Maybe that's nostalgia, but I'd say it's more nostalgic to go see a band that's been broken up for 10 years.
*Ed. note: Steve West plays with "his multi-national sextet" the band Marble Valley, and Bob Nastanovich works at a race-track. No joke.
Ok, now that the bitter vitriol of Part 1 has ceased spewing, let's move on.
Part 2: "I liked their early stuff better"
My college roommate Jon and I first bonded over a love of Pavement. Before we met in person, we had one of those awkward phone calls that the college encourages when you receive your housing letter and all of that shit. As far as I recall, we talked about Pavement almost exclusively. When we met, I was further impressed by Jon's sweet Wowee Zowee-era "Pavement Ist Rad" shirt, properly tattered.
But he pissed me off by stating that Slanted & Enchanted was "the best" Pavement album; my love for the band had grown from Brighten the Corners and some of the later stuff, and then gone backward. I had never been a fan of that really early, noisier shit, and now I was faced with the prospect of my new roommate being an idiot.
Well, Jon, it turns out you were right, more or less (but you're still fucking wrong about the first Spoon album--that shit kind of sucked, sorry). While I wouldn't necessarily say that Slanted is the best Pavement album (which is obviously a subjective statement anyway), I would argue for the earlier stuff being more vital and interesting--thus making me into that asshole guy who prefers a band's "earlier work."
It's just that everything on Slanted & Enchanted, Crooked Rain Crooked Rain, and Westing (By Musket & Sextant) is so messy, and bone-rattling and yelpy. It sounds young, it sounds alive, it recalls Pavement's own origins in hissy cassette tapes of the Fall and the Replacements. Listening to that stuff these days--and maybe it's just my current disposition--but listening to that earlier stuff and then comparing it the polished hush of something like "Major Leagues," or even "Transport is Arranged"? In particular the last two albums sound a little too mannered, a little too fussed-over. And that isn't to say that I dislike those albums now--to the contrary, I think they're brilliant! But navigating the thicket of Wowee Zowee, wigging out to "Baptist Blacktick" or "Box Elder": the essence of Pavement, to me, now lies in those initial years.
Appropros of nothing, I suppose, but all of this was a bit of a shocking revelation for me. Enough of this shit, let's watch some videos:
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