So, Spiral, is there going to be a Pavement reunion?Please note that Amy Phillips, in addition to running afoul of the unceremoniously dismissed Robert Christgau at The Village Voice, has some trouble doing the math. A 20th-anniversary Pavement show would be in 2009, not 2019.
"I guess, yeah, we'll see."
Um, what?
"[Laughs] I mean, I can't tell you. I don't know. I mean, yeah there's been some talk over the last year about kind of getting together eventually. But I think it makes more sense to let more time go past, you know? It would probably work well for a 20 year anniversary or something like that. But I don't know. I'm going to Steve [Malkmus]'s wedding, I think, so we'll see, maybe we'll have a reunion there."
And there you have it. Unless you've got an invite to the Malkmus nuptials, the chances of witnessing a Pavement reunion anytime before 2019 are slim.
I know I'm biased, but my instincts tell me that a reformed Pavement would still be pretty great. Stephen Malkmus's solo records have all been musically and lyrically rewarding, if at times deliberately alienating. Scott Kannberg's Preston School of Industry albums have both been excellent, serving as confirmation that he deserved more songwriting slots on Pavement records. And drummer Steve West's post-Pavement work, to which
cpratt recently reminded me to listen, is also strong. I'm still floating on the musical high of seeing Malkmus play "Trigger Cut" and half of the Watery, Domestic EP solo in his set opening for the Silver Jews last Friday -- was it really only a week? -- and then go on to collaborate with the Jews' David Berman on three awkwardly beautiful numbers. Then came the confirmation of the Wowee, Zowee reissue. And now this, a mini-interview with Kannberg, who has to be one of the nicest, least pretentious people I've ever encountered in the music business.
I should add, by way of a helpful hint to the boys from Stockton, that it's possible to drive from Seattle to Portland and back running on nothing more than Frito-Lay's new semi-organic "natural" Cheetos, XM Satellite Radio's classic rock offerings, a sugar-free Monster energy drink, and the fumes of a counterfactuality so rich with barred bliss that it could light the sign for the Sleater-Kinney off-ramp for a few decades.
