1994 In Review: Pavement - "Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain"

I'll be completely and totally honest heading into this: Pavement didn't catch my attention in their active years. I'd read a couple of articles about them in the back pages of rock magazines, and I remember them giving Pavement's previous album (1992's Slanted And Enchanted) loads of praise, extolling the virtues of this thing I'd never really looked into called "noise rock". However, being a mere teenager in Atlantic Canada in the early 90s, I didn't get the same exposure to the same bands as the kids in the bigger cities did (kids, I know it's hard to believe, but there was a time long, long ago before the internet when we had to find out about bands mostly from mainstream media).

So no, I never actually heard any Pavement records in the 90s. Years later, when Matador started reissuing Pavement's records with a metric shit-tonne of bonus material, the magazines (and, by then, blogs) started bringing them up again. Eventually, I'd pick up the reissues of Slanted And Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain; by the time they were reuniting in 2010, I'd formed a deep appreciation of the band and their role in the "grunge explosion" as scrappy outsiders determined to show a generation of brainwashed mallrats what "alternative" could really mean.

But I digress; this isn't a thesis, it's a celebratory review of a great record. To a lesser extent than, say, Faith No More, Pearl Jam, Nirvana or Radiohead, Pavement found themselves after Slanted And Enchanted having to follow up a much lauded album that got them a lot more attention than perhaps they bargained for. Stripped of the power of surprise, CRCR was going to be much more heavily scrutinized by critics wondering how they'd handle the pressure and fairweather fans ready to bolt at the first sign of "selling out".

Thankfully, Pavement could have given two shits what anybody thought about them. Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain is sometimes lazily categorized as a lighter, more melodic album than Slanted And Enchanted, but it's lighter and more melodic on their terms; the lay down the gauntlet right away, taking the piss on rock and roll's history on the playfully sloppy opener Silence Kid. Overall, the album takes more cues from classic rock than Sonic Youth, but it never feels like it's doing so in service to an attempted star turn. Even at its most sugary (the "hit" Cut Your Hair), it's just off kilter enough to ward off the designer Doc Martens set.

They play this game of indie chicken with their fans throughout the album. The lazy, triumphant Elevate Me Later is what it sounds like when a group of snarky record store snobs try to improve Radiohead's Creep (and arguably succeed in an odd way). Newark Wilder is probably as close as they come to a big ballad, but never takes itself seriously enough to be considered cheesy. Unfair is pretty much the definition of 90s college rock, with its slashing guitars and prototypical alt-rhythm that heralded the coming of Weezer and Spoon equally. Of course, if there's any doubt which side of the mainstream fence they sit on, there's Range Life; Malkmus admits he's no fan of Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots, and somewhat regrets that the attention to his band has lumped him into the same category when they couldn't be further apart stylistically.

With a little more polish, CRCR could have been a massive success like Siamese Dream or Core, albeit one that could have resulted in the crucifixion of the band and an album we're not talking about today. It's the rough edges that keep it interesting, the lack of refinement that makes it endearing, and the complete apathy in the face of the big money that makes it commendable.

February 14, 1994 • Matador

Highlights Cut Your Hair • Gold Soundz • Range Life