PAVEMENT – SLANTED AND
ENCHANTED (MATADOR RECORDS)
The blunt throw that
is the first Pavement album is a startling affair. My route into the band was all wrong. I saw them at Reading 95
before I had even heard any of their records.
It is quite possible that I saw them before I had even seen or heard “Cut
Your Hair” on MTV. All I knew is that this was a band from America that
supported Luton Town. Finally I borrowed Wowee
Zowee from Clacton
library and recorded it onto cassette.
Later I would also find, borrow and copy Westing
from the library. What was this
shit? Eventually I hooked up with my
future Gringo Records cohorts at
a Urusei Yatsura
gig
and finally heard Slanted And Enchanted one Saturday morning in Halstead while hanging out
with Joe from Lando. It was like nothing I previously knew.
Pavement was always
unique. On a clear day they sounded
retarded but to the trained/tuned ear/eye they were magnificent. They were belligerently loose, one big
intellectual in-joke not necessarily open to observers and outsiders. They looked normal but didn’t act it.
A key early memory of
mine attached to this album was during my rookie year in accountancy. I had just hooked up with my record label
buddies and my head remain firmly in indie rock. However during the name I had to learn what
to do with numbers/figures in Frinton-on-Sea
and teaching me was a young Jewish girl called Elaine who god bless her had
missed out somewhere on the personality stakes.
She was stagnant and frigid and not necessarily the best person in the
world to be teaching anything. And there
was me not necessarily the best person in the world to learn anything. Then one day when I fluffed a bank
reconciliation and she became visibly annoyed by this putting right my work for
me out of instinct I stared out the back window of the office and without
realising began singing “I’m trying, I’m trying” as per “Conduit For
Sale!” This stopped her in her tracks
and revealed me as the idiot that I am.
What could I do though; I spent most bank reconciliations thinking about
The Simpsons.
Indeed it is “Conduit
For Sale!” which closest resembles an existing Fall song in “New Face In Hell” from Grotesque. However when the dust settles it is “Two
States” that is aesthetically the track most likely. His voice even sounds like he is coming from
the north of England
Elsewhere on “Zurich
Is Stained” it is exhilarating in the way that Malkmus casually allows room for the
listener to finish his line “I am the one…” with “who fucking loves you”. Don’t tell me that was not intended.
At times there is a
subtle euphoria attached to the process.
I won’t believe anyone that tells me they don’t feel a thing off the
back of opener “Summer Babe (Winter Version)”.
It’s the sound of sunny freedom and a moment at a festival when not
surrounded by twats and jerks. Here is
the love. Similarly the charge of the
accompanying “Trigger Cut/Wounded-Kite” leads a jubilant charge with its
responsive backing (“I’ve got a message for you” etc).
There is a terrific
energy attached to this record. The
underlying fizz of the distorted offers a blistering charge. As tracks such as “Perfume-V” motion with
gusto they hang in the air with suspense and excitement. Similarly “No Life Singed Her” is frenetic
eventually sounding like a child throwing a tantrum or fit. Motion suggests Malkmus might not be above
such things.
“I was dressed for
success. But success it never comes”
When the band split up
first time round they ended on the track “Here”. Delivered in what feels like slow motion it
seems to sum up an attitude and era. In
reflective measure it resembles failure snatched from the jaws of victory. For me this is the slacker ethos in
song. In execution the band barely sound
like they can be bothered as Malkmus speaks of bad jokes and running out of
money subtly it becomes a whine. In
subsequent years the song has been executed appropriately and placed in such
positions within teenage angst movies less commanding and credible. “Here” was a dilution from the off.
Despite such an
apparent sense of duty the band appears to abstain from responsibility on
“Zurich Is Stained” as calmly the disclaimer “but it’s not my fault” is sure to
be added to the message/note.
With smarts and
knowing the record retains a royal pace right to the end. Appropriately it begins to wind down with
“Fame Throwa” and a cryptic salute. From
here the equally confusing “Jackals, False Grails: The Lonesome Era” offers
another come down before lazy close of “Our Singer” proves the perfect absolute
ending. It tucks the listener in and
sends them to sleep. Band and beneficial
bed bound both.
This is how it’s done.
Thesaurus moment:
formed.
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