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Last year, Pavement announced a reunion of sorts, and I have to admit that it didn’t sit well with me. Not that I don’t like Pavement or anything. Like any self-important asshole who writes about music for fun, I love Pavement. The problem is that Pavement’s reunion threatens one of the things that I love most about Pavement: the simplicity and definitiveness of their catalogue. Pavement was only around for 10 years, they only released five records, and not one of those records was bad. Pavement exited the world with a succinct, nearly perfect body of work, leaving the fanboys and Internet scribes forever drooling, doomed for eternity to make overblown (if not somewhat salient) proclamations about the band’s greatness. And after all, Pavement made the right move by breaking up in 1999. Most of the time, it’s better to quit when you’re ahead. The Velvet Underground only released four records with their core lineup. Arrested Development only lasted three seasons. The Beatles barely survived a full decade. I rest my case.
And so here comes the best band of the ’90s, all members well into middle age, planning a veritable world tour with a fresh slate of summer festival dates. Though they haven’t yet made any plans for going into the studio, the writing is on the wall. And even if Pavement did record another record, it could very well be brilliant. But in my mind at least, their legacy will be forever tainted. So instead of worrying myself silly about Pavement’s hypothetical new record, I’ve been listening to the classics, the songs that made me and countless others like me fall in love with these guys in the first place. And fortunately for me, Matador Records has released an excellent—yet often predictable—best of record to capitalize on the reunion. If by some inconceivable circumstance you’ve forgotten what makes this band so special, Quarantine The Past: The Best of Pavement will do a damn good job of reminding you.
The only negative to Quarantine The Past: The Best of Pavement is that it actually is a best-of record. Practically every album and EP is represented, and the compilers of this album have done a superb job of getting all the band’s standouts in one place. Though a best-of record isn’t supposed to unearth the deep cuts and unheard b-sides, Quarantine The Past: The Best of Pavement essentially leaves the hardcore fans with a mixtape that they could have made themselves on iTunes. So while the record doesn’t disappoint, it definitely doesn’t surprise either. These songs didn’t really need to be repackaged, but doing so hasn’t diminished their value at all.
Case in point: “Gold Soundz” has been taken from its place mid-way through Pavement’s classic 1994 record, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, and plunked right at the start of Quarantine The Past. (Side note for the astute listeners out there, “quarantine the past” is a lyric from “Gold Soundz.”) For some reason, “Gold Soundz” just doesn’t feel like the kind of song that would open an album; it’s one of those tracks that grows on you. Regardless, it still shines with all its glory: the sloppily-interlocking guitar arpeggios, Stephen Malkmus’ poetically nonsensical talk-sung vocals, the part where everything drops out and the bass waits for the guitars to noodle their way back into the song. I hate to say it, but they really don’t make ’em like they used to.
I have to give the compilers of Quarantine The Past credit for not relying too heavily on Pavement’s early twin masterpieces, Slanted and Enchanted and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. They’ve scooped up the obvious tracks from these records like “Summer Babe (Winter Version)” and “Cut Your Hair,” but they’ve also paid homage to Pavement’s later records, especially 1997’s Brighten The Corners. From that record comes the punky energy of “Embassy Row” and the poppy simplicity of “Stereo.” They’ve even managed to pull a few tracks off of the early EP Watery, Domestic, including “Debris Slide,” a short and bittersweet knockout that seems to summarize and foreshadow the band’s entire career, from devilishly noisy dissonance to a sing-along “bah bah bah bah bah” chorus. While these are songs that most fans have heard before, it’s nice to see them getting the attention they deserve.
When all is said and done, Quarantine The Past is basically a money-grabbing ploy and a relatively useless exercise for a band whose entire catalogue plays like a best of record. But these songs still kill, and the record could inspire the uninitiated to follow suit and discover Pavement. And yes, despite my neurotic tendencies, Quarantine The Past does assuage my fears about the Pavement reunion, if only momentarily. Pavement could announce tomorrow that they’re working on a prog-rock concept record about the construction of the Eerie Canal, but at least I know that I still have “Gold Soundz” and “Range Life” and “Spit On A Stranger” and every other magnificent song on Quarantine The Past. Who knows, maybe I’ll attend the second Pavement reunion tour 20 years from now. Just as long as they don’t release any new records.
—Martin Bergman ’12 is a Jewish studies major writing a bi-weekly column on recently released albums.
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