When 90s US indie outfit Pavement announced they were re-forming again for dates this year, it marked a decade since their last re-formation, and 20 years since their original split. They’ve released no new material in between, and have always been known for their tensions and resentments: the last show of their first phase, in 1999, involved singer Stephen Malkmus hanging handcuffs from the mic stand and declaring “these symbolise what it’s like being in a band”. So it was easy to chalk it up as another cynical cash-grab tour in an industry already overflowing with nostalgia and anniversary shows.
Yet when Pavement kicked off the tour at Spain’s Primavera festival earlier this year, rather than running through the motions with gritted teeth in palpable discomfort, they radiated joy, fun and overwhelmed gratitude. Malkmus seemed relatively at ease, while other members, especially Bob Nastanovich, hurtled around the stage like sugar-loaded toddlers, screaming what may well be the band’s final run of screams.
This good-spirited nature has been evident in their 2022 setlists, too: rather than rigidly sticking to a setlist of predictable hits, they’ve been digging out rarities and switching things up night after night, with more than 50 different songs rolled out over the course of the tour so far – not bad going for a band that have often unfairly been painted as indifferent slackers.
In reality, they have always been as tight as they are loose. Precise and chaotic, both melodic and discordant, and they feel like a taut, if slightly tired, unit as they hit the UK. Early favourites lift the room – the crunchy blast of Stereo, the chugging pop hum of Summer Babe – while the snaking melodies and singalong lines of Shady Lane make you forget that the band never actually had anything in the way of a conventional hit.
Unsurprisingly, for a band as terminally sartorially challenged as Pavement, the visuals on the screen behind them are underwhelming – at one point a tennis player is superimposed over a police car for minutes on end. But it also captures their inherently oblique attitude. Malkmus’s lyrics have always been experimental and playful to the point of being abstruse and Pavement always set out to exist outside the framework of other alt-rock bands of the era – despite, ironically, becoming a template for endless banal copycats.
While some songs feel rushed and hammered out tonight, when they grind things down into elongated tender jams, as on a beautifully unfurling Type Slowly, a poignant We Dance or the subtle groove of Spit on a Stranger, they allow their personality, wonky edges and timeless qualities to shine. Even better, when they can combine this idiosyncratic stripped-back side with dynamic bursts of streamlined noise, as on Trigger Cut – “best fucking band in world” someone screams shortly after – the push-pull, quiet-explosive nature of Embassy Row, or the triumphant closer Stop Breathin, they harness all their greatest assets at once.
Fan favourites like Gold Soundz and Here are left out tonight, but their set doesn’t feel lacking. Instead it thoughtfully excavates and explores Pavement’s rich history, re-engaging with, rather than simply reenacting, the material. And there’s no handcuffs in sight.
Pavement are on tour in Britain until 25 October, then around the world until March.
