MUSIC: ROCK IS DEAD

Pavement cements major successPavement cements major successby Mia Quagliarello It's more than just goofy obnoxiousness that prompts Pavement to take the liberty of making such comments. The band's superficial superiority complex reflects its own insecurity about becoming one of the dreaded groups it perceives as sell-outs. Crooked Rain balks at pop stardom and all of the commercialism and self-prostitution it entails. Paradoxically, it is a work of such brilliance, Pavement just might have fulfilled its own worst nightmare. Crooked Rain is sure to be an unwanted spotlight shining on these reluctant heroes. Until now, Pavement has been something of an underground sensation. Though the band is clearly influenced by The Fall, Velvet Underground and The Pixies, Pavement's laid-back, even lazy, sound stands firmly on its own. Lead singer/guitarist Stephen Malkmus' strained, lackadaisical voice ranks him among the finest warbly wailers of all time: Neil Young, J Mascis and Robert Smith. While some critics hailed Pavement's 1991 release Slanted and Enchanted as a classic in line with the most innovative and influential albums of the rock and roll era, the band isn't exactly a household name. However, the recent media frenzy (including a four-star review in Rolling Stone) heralding Crooked Rain proves just how appealing Pavement can be to a mainstream audience. As if hyper-aware of its situation on the cusp of major success, Pavement reacts with cautious introspection, so as not to appear vulnerable or predictable. For this reason, Crooked Rain is purposefully cryptic. Song titles are ambiguous ("Silence Kit" on the case and "Silence Kid" on the disc) and the meaning of lyrics ("career" or "Korea"?) transforms depending upon whether they are sung or spit violently from the mouth of Malkmus. On "Gold Sountz," Malkmus asks: "Is it a crisis or a boring change?" He poses this question only to assert: "I'll keep my reactions to myself." He refuses to even divulge his address; after all, "we need secrets." While it may seem difficult to maintain a level of privacy and create interesting art, herein lies Crooked Rain's beauty. Like an episode of Seinfeld, Crooked Rain examines the moment and its (in)significance in a compact yet pleasurable experience. On "Silent Kid" this means masturbation. "Cut Your Hair" elevates something as banal as hair to terrific heights, in particular the long locks of many rock stars. In fervent defiance, Malkmus shouts in a Pixie-ish howl: "No Big Hair! Songs mean a lot/When songs are bought/And so are you." Malkmus is not always so sure what he wants or how he feels. He is uncertain whether or not he wants to hop on the rock bandwagon. In one breath he claims: "I don't care/I care/I really don't care." Sadly, this indecision seems to get the best of Malkmus towards the end of the album. With slurred speech, the last three tracks blend into a long dirge of depressed and confused mutterings. On "Heaven Is a Truck" Malkmus comes to the disheartening realization that "Heaven is a truck that got stuck on the breeze." On "Hit The Plank Down" he laments in a crazed voice: "Plane down/There's no survivors" and on "Fillmore Jive" he pleads in a chorus of anthemic proportions: "I need to sleep/Why won't you let me?" Could the journey to the top really be such a nightmarish trip? It must be, considering the tragic self-destruction artists of all kinds have witnessed over the years. On this album, Pavement bids farewell and good riddance to the rock and roll era. It has the effect of Nietszche declaring God is Dead: Crooked Rain clears the slate for a new religion.