Go Back to Those Gold Soundz

Pavements-a movie, a band, a musical, a museum, a long-running inside joke…or something else?

“Is it a crisis or a boring change?”

That’s a lyric from the Pavement classic, “Gold Soundz”. I don’t know what it means. There’s a chance that Steven Malkmus doesn’t know what it means either. But somehow it sounds profound…at least in the context of the song. Taken out of context it seems sort of nonsensical. But even in context, is it that…um…sensical?

Pavement were the perfect Gen X band. They gave the impression on the surface that nothing was that serious. But when they recorded or got on stage, there was a seriousness to it. There was commitment to each other and to the audience and to the music—dissonant at times, melodic at times, punk rock at times, gentle at times. But you wondered if they were earnest. Or was it all Letterman-era irony?

It doesn’t matter if they were earnest. Maybe at times. Sometimes irony is the most earnest state of being to have when you exist in an absurd world. Things can be both a crisis and a boring change at the same time because we’ve seen it all and aren’t surprised by any of it anymore.

So how does a band that excelled at speaking the language of the affected disaffected deal with something like the concept of legacy?

They make a bizarre film that places them in four earnest realms all at once—the serious biopic, the serious art world, the serious landscape of musical theater, and the serious business of reunion tours.

They take all of that irony and tongue-in-cheek winking and they package it in the weirdest way possible. It’s sort of like taking an edgy surrealist painting and framing it in a $5 picture frame you found in the clearance aisle at Target. Is it a disservice to the work or is it exactly the treatment it deserves?

Pavements as a film walks the tightrope of winking irony and smiley earnest nostalgia with sober precision and deft wit. It is at times clearly Christopher Guest-ian, especially with the Joe Keery character within a character portrayal of Steve Malkmus in the fictional biopic, Range Life.

But there are the museum scenes and the jukebox musical scenes that aren’t quite as overtly ironic. The concept of a Pavement musical and a Pavement museum are utterly ridiculous. But to see them on screen sort of makes sense in a weird way? Part of me thinks it’s an earnest way of saying, we know what we are/were and we’re actually worthy of “serious” treatment, even just for a moment.

And it’s the idea that it’s all just for a moment that is actually an important idea here and it is a point that is driven home by the museum lettering being removed by the razor blade. It sort of says, okay, we had our moment, but let’s not get too precious about any of it. We’re just a group of dudes in a rock band. We said our piece and now it’s over.

If you believe in grand statements about generations, which you should always be somewhat leery of, the statement about Generation X at its ironic, slackery peak is that nothing was off limits. Everything could be a joke and nothing was more cringe-worthy than nostalgia. We all live, we all die, and the world is on fire. Get over yourself.

But maybe the ultimate joke found in Pavements is the joke on Gen Xers. Maybe Pavement the band is saying, “Guess what, we’re actually serious. We love this band and the music we’ve made together.”

And that message comes through. But all of it comes through—the uncomfortable feeling of putting your feelings on display for an audience, the love/hate relationship with the idea of success and legacy, the idiotic fun of being young and making loud music with your friends, the joy of connecting with music and art as an older adult. And the sly smirk of it all that leaves just enough doubt in your mind about the sincerity of it all. Oh it’s there too.

There’s an obscure relatability to Pavement’s music. There’s something unpretentious and inviting about it. There’s the noise and the rock and roll and the slacker irony of its time, sure, but there’s also a mystery and longing to the best Pavement songs. There aren’t overt meanings to most of the songs and that’s what makes them so good. But still, somehow you know what they mean…you know?

Again, if we want to make broad generalizations about generational groups, here’s another fun theory I have. And it’s not really a new one. It’s sort of a lazy interpretation of post-modernism.

But anyhow, the ‘80s and ‘90s were a time that factories closed and labor was both automated and eliminated and the things that drove society and economies were increasingly becoming digital and less of a physical nature. The message is both that nothing is forever and everything can be repurposed and morphed into something that was not imagined in a thing’s original purpose. An old rail yard can become a park. A factory can become loft apartments. A human life can become a video game avatar.

And so Pavement was a shape shifting ‘90s band that you knew you liked but couldn’t say why. The melody? The feedback and crunchiness of it all? The lack of attitude attitude? Yes to all of that. No to all of that. Does it matter what it’s supposed to be? Maybe all that matters as that there is a band called Pavement and you like them.

And so leave it to the shape shifting, moody, what-is-a-thing-anyway-generation’s band to not be straight forward with their big screen debut. Pavement wanted to be seen, but they didn’t want to give you a singular look into their story because there never was a singular “pavement”. There may not be a singular anything…at least not for long.

And so watching the movie Pavements is an exercise in being in on the joke and letting the band give you a lot of glimpses of many versions of themselves, but you get the feeling that none are completely true, but all of them have a bit of truth to them. The narrator is speaking to you, but never looks you directly in the eye, but at the same time, has a side glance that never takes its eyes off of you. It is both a story of nothing and everything: A crisis and a boring change.

But then again, I get the feeling the main motivation is that they wanted to do things that would make themselves laugh, knowing that there would be those who’d laugh too and those who’d probably take it all at face value, which is equally hilarious to think about. It’s all pretty ridiculous. Life, art, music, film…sometimes it’s just fun to take a couple hours out of the horror and confusion of the world and enjoy letting a great rock and roll band take you for a spin around the block.

The joy ride won’t change the world, but it won’t not change it either. Know what I mean? No, I don’t either. I don’t know the answers and I never seem to know the right questions to ask, but this life just sounds better with Pavement playing along to it. And THAT’S the moral of this story. Go see the movie! It’s a fun time.