It may seem paradoxical that a band like Pavement, which is known for its slacker sensibility and lo-fi sound, would release such a nicely packaged redux of its second album, Crooked Rain Crooked Rain. Sure, it may be inappropriate for a band that overtly criticizes the image-oriented music industry to release complimentary material that will give much insight into Crooked Rain Crooked Rain‘s development and ultimately help create an image for Pavement. But even with a 62-page booklet full of juicy info, b-sides galore, previously unreleased material and alternate takes of the original songs, Pavement remains a mystery.
The interval between Slanted and Enchanted (1992) and Crooked Rain Crooked Rain (1994) was tainted with turbulence. Although Slanted and Enchanted received universal praise, Pavement had yet to solidify the fan base appropriate to its capabilities. And when Billy Corgan, the anchor of then-prevalent Smashing Pumpkins, said, “no one gets up first thing in the morning humming a Pavement song,” a wave of uncertainty resonated among Pavement’s members. To add to the drama, Gary Young, the sloppy drummer and producer, chose the bottle over the band, leaving the remaining members without a studio or the certainty of a follow-up album.
Stephen Malkmus, however, the group’s quirky singer and guitarist, found solid gold when he began jamming with Steven West, whose technical proficiency with a drum set harnessed a new, tighter base for the band to build its eclectic soundscapes. Soon, the entire band laid down tracks in an amateur studio in a windowless New York City apartment. The result was limited to the capacity of the studio, like a lion restlessly roaming in the confines of a zoo exhibit. Luckily, the mixing process yielded the polish and density needed to keep Pavement’s sound moving forward.
As a finished product, Crooked Rain Crooked Rain marks the point when Pavement became a fully functional band instead of a studio project. The haze of mystery that swept over Slanted and Enchanted dissolved into a crisper, cleaner sound as each foundational instrument began to form distinct qualities. But Pavement kept its essence intact as the songs’ shape shift to caress many different styles in unpredictable, fragmented song structures. Also present are the squalls of feedback that project like a whirlwind, the playfully unintelligible lyrics and the catchy yet grating drawl of Malkmus. The band’s transition was best described by one of the members, Spiral, when he stated, “I remember being sad because we had lost a lot of the mystery we had started with, and I had held onto (ha ha), but I knew we had to endure change to keep moving forward.”
And Pavement is all about change, as the span of an album or even a single song refuses to allow the listener to take comfort within the delineations of a certain style or form. The stunning three-minute opener to Crooked Rain Crooked Rain, “Silence Kit,” is a perfect example of the band’s tendency to move from chaos to form and then screw everything up again as the first 15 seconds showcase a flurry of drum beats, wah wah and distortion-soaked guitars with a dash of bass that morph into relaxed guitar interplay to the steady beat of cowbell. But not for long, as the lead guitar begins to squeal and twist in anticipation of the tension building bridge which introduces Malkmus’ voice with a sigh that captures both the epic span of the work and the casual sensibility that shadows it. The tension is released into the first verse that never really resolves and never repeats itself.
“Silence Kit” is the perfect opener for Crooked Rain Crooked Rain because it exemplifies the furiousness, sloppiness and spontaneity of the band while also evincing the crisp production and intricate layering that gave Pavement a new sound. The rest of the album touches on different forms of alternative and classic rock, country and even a warped version of traditional jazz.
Some critics of Pavement listened to its music and inferred that Pavement simply wasn’t trying hard enough. Such an opinion can only be formed when one tries to impose structure or meaning to music that purports neither. No matter the effort, Pavement succeeded in creating a sound that provides a sense of familiarity but eludes all conventions and a mentality that suggests deepness in an enigmatic way. Perhaps it is fitting that Pavement has no set image because it represents music that is malleable. Whatever your opinion of Pavement, Stephen Malkmus says it best: “As for the music, it’s for you and yours to decide.”
Grade: A
