Pavement is gone. Stephen Malkmus said it himself. And yet, in the year 2010, Pavement are as perplexingly rad as ever. It’s still impossible to figure out how they make it work, these five men in their separate worlds onstage, teasing out individual melodies and rhythms until they find a way to let everything converge into a masterpiece. “Silent Kid” (or, to the purist, “Silence Kit”) is like a classic study in this process, and came early in their set on Sunday night at the Roy. They left out some of the song’s original intro, but the effect was still the same: you stand there, unable to believe that any of them are playing the same song, until suddenly you’re smacked sideways by the awesome coalescence.
Such coalescences are more magical than ever, considering how obscure Pavement’s motivations are for planning this reunion tour. I firmly believe they’re doing it for the fans, and I don’t need to reiterate what a godsend this tour is for the fans (case history, by way of example: this reviewer started going to concerts after Pavement broke up, never believed this day would come, etc.). The band doesn’t seem uncomfortable in each other’s presence, exactly, but they hardly seem to be doing this because they enjoy their bandmates’ company, and I wouldn’t hold out hope for a new album, ever. Malkmus stands on the far, far, far left of the stage, looking vaguely dissatisfied with everything. Steve West drums, just drums, because that’s what drummers do. Scott Kannberg, hatted and sleek, is nearly as non-present, even when he’s singing his great song “Kennel District.” Mark Ibold, center stage, is the closest thing to the “glue” of the band, because he seems so content as he plays the bass and bobs his head. Bob Nastanovich, playing a tiny drum kit and doing other mysterious things at the far back of the stage, until he runs forward and shouts a harmony or chorus, is the wild card, the guy with the least to lose, the affable ringmaster, public chum #1. This is the rare band that allows you to choose your favorite member.
The setlist was more or less a lineup of their greatest “hits,” and it was hard to be disappointed with the song selection. Fifth and final album Terror Twilight was grossly underrepresented however (only “Spit on a Stranger” made the cut), perhaps based on the premise that the older a song is, the more desperate the audience’s need to hear it (there were enough oldies in the audience to belie the weird untruth that’s been going around that Pavement weren’t very popular in their heyday and have only gained a following since). “We Dance” was the most peculiar item on the setlist, and was used mostly as an excuse for Nastanovich to bring a woman from the audience onstage as a dancing partner. The band was remarkably well-rehearsed, considering the size of the back catalog with which they had to contend, with a few notable exceptions: “Elevate Me Later” and “Grounded” both barely got off the ground before grinding to a halt. In the latter case, Kannberg was in the wrong key, prompting Malkmus’s remark: “These are easy songs.” Both mess-ups were conclusive proof of… something. Perhaps that the band’s magic, that awesome coalescence, is so delicate that the slightest wind can destroy it. I’m still amazed they brought back the magic in such full force for such a long set, especially considering that Pavement doesn’t really exist anymore, they’re just doing this because they love us, apparently. The true definition of a reunion tour.
Full disclosure: I missed about half of the opening set by No Age, which is good news for my eardrums and bad news for my soul, since No Age are the loudest band I’ve ever heard live. They last brought that loudness to a free show at the 501 Club in July 2009; the Roy provides a totally different context for their music than the cramped hole that is the 501 Club, though aesthetically they remain mostly unchanged. Guitarist Randy Randall, anonymous in a cap and jacket, was less inclined to take the spotlight than previously, and conceded it to drummer and singer Dean Spunt, the duo’s star performer. That such a tiny-framed man can bash it out on the drums and shred his vocal chords simultaneously will never fail to be an astonishing thing. For such a heavily amplified band (supplemented by the synthesizing and processing twiddle-work of a third and perhaps new member on the left of the stage), Spunt’s sheer passion can make you believe they’re not amplified at all. The juggernaut diptych of “Eraser” and “Sleeper Hold” (both from 2008’s Nouns) was huge enough to replace my heartbeat for a few minutes, though it was perhaps in bad taste for the opening band to break the audience’s ears before Pavement had even begun.
No Age:
Pavement:
Pavement setlist:
Cut Your Hair
Spit on a Stranger
Elevate Me Later
Summer Babe
Silence Kit
Starlings of the Slipstream
Kennel District
Unfair
Father to a Sister of Thought
Box Elder
Frontwards
Rattled by the Rush
In the Mouth a Desert
Perfume-V
Stereo
Grounded
Trigger Cut
Our Singer
Fight This Generation
Range Life
Two States
We Dance
Gold Soundz
Stop Breathin’
Shady Lane (Encore)
Conduit for Sale! (Encore)
Here (Encore)
