Pavement on their reunion: 'We're like an uncaged tiger'

Depending on who you ask, Pavement are either the greatest indie band of the nineties, or a minor blip on the rock landscape.

Formed in California in 1989, they were the ultimate underground band, whose noisy, shambolic songs were laced with enough melodic charm to lodge permanently in your brain.

Their first two albums, Slanted and Enchanted (1992) and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994) were hailed as masterpieces of lo-fi, slacker rock - a description that's technically true, but which fails to capture their magic.

From the fuzzy squall of Summer Babe to the celestial balladry of Spit On A Stranger and the goofiness of Cut Your Hair, Pavement knew their way around a pop song, no matter how awkward the delivery.

They built an audience who gorged on frontman Stephen Malkmus's wayward song structures and cryptic lyrics ("Lies and betrayals / Fruit-covered nails," he sang, mystifyingly, on Trigger Cut).

But after Crooked Rain pushed Pavement towards the limelight, an unpredictable follow-up - 1995's Wowee Zowee - put them back in the shadows.

It was an act of commercial self-sabotage that only deepened their cult appeal. Pavement never committed the "sin" of having a hit song and they quit while they were ahead: Disbanding in 1999, with just five almost-perfect albums to their name.

Their last show, in London's Brixton Academy, hinted at internal tensions. Attaching handcuffs to his microphone, Malkmus told the audience: "These symbolise what it's like being in a band all these years." When the gig ended, the band left on one side of the stage, and Malkmus walked off in the opposite direction.

But percussionist Bob Nastanovich says the myth surrounding Pavement's demise is more dramatic than the reality.

"It's never been anywhere near as bad as people thought it was," he says. "There really wasn't that much drama at all. It was more about exhaustion and desire to do other things."

For Nastanovich, that meant a career in horse racing - but today he's speaking on Zoom from San Francisco, where Pavement are in the middle of a reunion tour (their second, after a previous fling in 2010).

We're quickly joined on the call by Malkmus, mid-order at a local coffee joint. Americano in hand, he chats enthusiastically about their upcoming London shows and the band's giant video screen, which he's nicknamed R2-FU.

"The tour's been great so far," he beams. "I'm sort of like a tiger let out of the cage. An older, greyer tiger."

His sunny disposition might seem out of character to longtime fans. In Pavement's prime, Malkmus was often accused of being surly and aloof. According to drummer Steve West, there were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch".

But he rejected those characterisations, telling one reporter it was all "part of the act".

"I'm nice at the bottom of my heart, but I like the 'tough love, bitchy performer' thing."

These days, he seems mellow. He talks in ellipses and apologises several times for rambling - but there's an obvious affection for Pavement and its fans.

That fanbase has only expanded in recent years.

As the dust of the 90s settled, Pavement's stock rose, with acts like Blur, Animal Collective, Deerhunter and Beabadoobee citing them as a major influence. Rolling Stone recently ranked Slanted and Enchanted at number 199 in its top 500 albums of all time. Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain landed at 343 and Wowee Zowee (which has undergone a critical reappraisal) was at 265.

"It's a great compliment," says Nastanovich. "But I mean, they had to put something from early 90s on there, other than Nevermind."

Over the years, the band's archives have been raided for a series of album reissues that further enhanced their reputation, but Malkmus claims not to have heard them. Instead, he prepared for the Pavement reunion on YouTube.

"I listened to every song, just about, that we ever did, starting from the very beginning to make sure I had enough material to surprise people and make it magical and every show different."

The tour is designed as a series of mini-residencies, and every night delivers "a different set and a different vibe", raved Rolling Stone critic Rob Sheffield. "Twenty-five songs in two hours, rampaging all over their catalogue, rocking the house each night with a couple dozen of the greatest tunes ever written for electrically amplified string instruments."

The only problem? That big video screen ruins their spontaneity.

"We're used to passing out setlists 20 minutes before we go on stage," says Nastanovich, "but to get everything set up for the show to work, it needs to be in five hours beforehand."

Even so, the band have frequently thrown their plans out the window.

"Last night we had a couple of band meetings on stage and changed a couple of songs," he confesses. "I'm sure it's thoroughly entertaining for the audience to watch, you know? A cluster of people deciding what to play next."

But the tour also sees a level of professionalism Pavement lacked first time round.

"We had a proper rehearsal this time," says Malkmus, only half-joking. "In the 90s, tours were hammered down our throats at all times and we'd just jump on them.

"This time, we worked on our chops, which is a funny thing to say with Pavement. The drummer in particular spent a year practicing. We never had a chance to do that before.

"But it's still loose, it's still Pavement," he reassures. "The emotions coming at you are gonna take you back to when you first heard us."

One track, however, is a new addition to the set.

Harness Your Hopes, a b-side recorded during sessions for 1997's Brighten The Corners, has suddenly risen from obscurity to become Pavement's most-streamed song,

Malkmus only became aware when he heard the song in a bakery near his home in Portland, Oregon. At first, he thought it was the Rolling Stones' Tumblin' Dice. Then the vocals kicked in and "my kids said they knew the song".

It turned out the 25-year-old track had inspired a TikTok dance craze.

"I assumed it was a kind of smaller viral hit," he says, "but it turns out we're like a strong Omicron."

He laughs when I mention the second verse: "Show me a word that rhymes with pavement/And I won't kill your parents and roast them on a spit" (the joke being that the second line describes the word "depravement")

"That's the kind of thing you write when you're feeling cocky and you think it's a b-side," says Malkmus.

"It's sort of bizarre, how history rewrites itself."

The song has brought Pavement a new audience, although Malkmus grumbles that they never make it to the moshpit.

"I hate to say it, but there's, like, a halo of wealth at the front, where the tickets cost more. And it's fine, but it's almost always older people with disposable income."

Ultimately, though, Pavement are happy on the nostalgia circuit.

"I like going to reunion shows," says Malkmus, "because, almost always, the dudes and women are psyched to be up there.

"I mean, I hear stories about mega-bands like The Police who exist in separate rooms and are mailing it in for the cash. This is not that.

"The feeling in the band is pretty much the exact same as it was the first time we ever got into a minivan in the 90s."

The one thing he won't consider, however, is adding to Pavement's body of work.

"That'd be really weird," he says. "These songs are solid. They're old but they're still alive. I don't know why you would do it."

Pavement play four nights at London's Roundhouse from 22 October.