Pavements film review: Will it ever be cool to be smart?! (Probably not.) (Review by Dina Hornreich)
“Just make us look cool.” - Almost Famous
“Love is a mixtape.” – Rob Sheffield
Arts & culture continue to offer liberating, meaningful experiences promoting the use of creativity for fostering healthy explorations as we are always striving for planning, managing, and constructing a meaningful life. Are these “consumable” performative experiences fostered by the information, media, and technology artefacts (and other commodified forms of “asynchronous” communicative programming) that we actively seek upon subscribing to the varied networks, systems, channels, and other platforms to support our daily decisions for living, loving, learning, working, creating, growing, and leading personally, professionally, and everything in-between (or beyond)?!
When words/ideas are experienced through primordial audio-visual recordings involving verbal and nonverbal kinds of vocalized/instrumentalized “stuff;” it creates experiences for becoming more “fully alive” as the unequivocal, intense, and raw energies are expressed with pitch, tone, stress, volume, etc. alongside facial expressions, body movements, and a forceful inertia that cultivates such powerful socio-cultural vehicles involving organic, analog, and digital formats.
This offers a definite sense of a magical, para-religious feeling that more readily accesses the mind, body, and spirit; and it is a fervor that has been both addictive and contagious (which makes it easy to be interpreted as a religious experience especially if it’s fueled with mind-body altering substances). After all, spirituality is not exclusive to any formal institutional contexts; and when words cause divisions, music can offer resolutions! This applies to various secular and scholarly contexts; as well as the stylish and fashionable (cf: cultural informatics).
Of course, managing the devastation that “rock & roll” mayhem creates has always been a daunting, often impossible task; given how impetuous and unsustainable the whole endeavor remains. To reduce it to an iterative process of “payola pandering” minimizes how we negotiate that particular hell which can be best described as “fifteen minutes of fame” (cf: Andy Warhol); and many the stressors usually drive so many aspiring musicians insane. Ongoing rockumentary and rock memoir storytelling formulae seem to exist as invitations for defying those iterations (before the cliches inevitably fulfill their own prophecies); and that band we called Pavement were very wise to be “jaded and cynical” at every stage of that process.
The film, Pavements, adequately shows how they were justified in their fears of taking any of it too seriously; as we were all collectively cringing throughout those times of substantial socio-political upheaval! According to 90s indie rock credibility standards, artists didn’t necessarily have to learn to play their instruments in any form of “outstandingly well” kinds of virtuosity in order to achieve some aesthetically appealing sense of competence; but they did have to figure out what eventually worked “well enough” to complete an idea, concept, or project.
In Pavements (the film), we witness another self-consciously “absurd” (often obtuse) success story that has been left for us amidst the litany of tortured introverts who remained tirelessly willing to negotiate that frenzied mass media landscape uniquely fostered in the 90s. This always felt like an exercise in futility and addressing that compulsively nagging cultural void left behind when Kurt Cobain died in 1994 (the same year observant Jews lost the Chassidic Rebbe Schneerson; and I also lost my uncle who was a well recognized American-Israeli Scientist) and otherwise trying to placate an ongoing industry “mad push” for finding the next Nirvana (and otherwise trying yet again to “save” rock’n roll) which has never seemed like anything more than a nebulous exercise in futility.
“Attention and fame” alone do not constitute a successful musical career; and Pavement were justifiably aware of this very unbearable pressure early on in their so-called careers. It makes addiction a very natural short-term solution given those unrealistic pressures (and similarly excruciating challenges of intense financial investments) and other forms of interpersonal conflicts only betray the artistic conception on which an entire aesthetic identity was intended to be built.
Obviously, this film deliberately avoids those more conventional “VH1 styled” rockumentaries that prefer to follow a formulaic storyline of “burn out or fade away” cliched endings amidst ongoing “rags to riches” plots. (Despite overt references to their dearly departed Silver Jew friend, David Berman, whose story is quite devastating to ponder in the background of this homage.) Because those films typically interview band managers (and other industry folks) as well as the friends and family members who were connected to the artists (including other musicians who were peers, collaborators, and even fans), Pavements includes appearances from Matador records’ Gerard Cosloy & Chris Lombardi, as well as other visible scenesters and spokespeople ranging from Thurston Moore, Jason Schwartzman, Soccer Mommy, Speedy Ortiz, etc.
All of whom seem to appear as incidental figures since the filmmakers seem to show a preference to focus on Steve Malkmus & Company’s creative processes and artistic struggles with their persnickety audiences, mass media reporters (MTV VJs & late night talk show hosts), various measures of success (especially RIAA recognition for album sales), as well as the ongoing substantial cynicism that informs throughout their journey. Unlike REM (and similar storylines about indie/punk/new wave bands like DEVO, Talking Heads, The Police, etc.), Pavements more actively invokes our abilities to better contextualize its collages of indie cultural artefacts by drawing upon our own experiences as college radio DJs, record store patrons, zinesters, etc.; just to fill-in-the-blanks.
And in doing so, it offers a welcomed stroll down memory lane as nostalgia fodder for people like me who played their songs (e.g. “two states” from their “Slanted and Enchanted” album) on their college radio show, compiled CMJ playlists for reporting charts (and otherwise negotiated station copies of new music with industry representatives), and also attended various artist discussions panels and experienced unique concert opportunities exclusive to CMJ annual showcases. Obviously, self-referential ironic name checks were intrinsic to this culture involving both discovery processes as well as epistemological experimentations.
Efforts that facilitated my own impetuous decision to work in the industry in public relations alongside Dan Mackta (who was an honorary member of a Pavement-related project mentioned in the film called the Silver Jews) and Vicky Wheeler (who was Gerard Cosloy’s ex-girlfriend and she also knew some of the Pavement members quite well). Dan and Vicky met while working at the legendary 4AD independent record label to start their own PR company, Autotonic. They eventually relocated from NYC to an upstairs space in Doug Easley’s studio in Memphis, TN where Pavement and The Silver Jews had recorded around 1994-95.
When I joined them in 1997, the company had a variety of new additions (including their three year old son Henry). Being in Memphis afforded Dan and Vicky opportunities for new and different artist connections (like Memphis bands such as The Grifters); including the nearby New Orleans music scene which offered a thriving music community as well as a reputable collegiate environment. As such, we had two alumni from Tulane amongst our ranks; Matt Hanks and Anthony Delrosario who offered the addition of artists from Ruston, Louisiana like Bill Doss from the Olivia Tremor Control (who helped establish the Elephant 6 music collective).
Autotonic had many unassailable roster of artists on their attractive resume; with connections to influential indie record labels like Thrill Jockey, Merge, and Drag City in addition to the local flair. (And ongoing opportunities for collaborating with members of Sonic Youth like Steve Shelly whose own endeavors included Easley recording artist, Chan Marshall, and her Cat Power project whose music was first released on his own recording label.) This backdrop is hard to forget when I watch Pavements; and it also offers new ways for interpreting those experiences.
Regardless of where our individual journeys through those times took each of us individually, the film’s use of similarly impressive contemporary artists who are interpreting, reinterpreting, and otherwise extrapolating on that scene while attempting to recreate Pavements’ unique creative output frequently seems evasive; and most of the testimony from Malkmus & Co. suggests that it was frequently a haphazard endeavor - and occasionally even a forced march. As I consider typical music industry measures and markers; I still ponder ways for translating their efforts into our current socio-technical landscape (which has creative content and intellectual property rights in a chokehold)!
I only saw Pavement perform once; when I was in Memphis at a club called Barristers in 1998. And my memories of their performance were secondary in the context of so many other stressors that were on my mind at the time given interpersonal dynamics between Vicky & Dan & Henry; Anthony & Matt; etc. And that’s because finicky hipster weirdness (and other intensely cutthroat scenester politics that are easily misconstrued as snobbery) can substantially take away from the experience of simply enjoying a night out with your friends. All of which can probably be considered both a strength and a weakness of that whole sh*tshow that we call showbiz! (Project Runway was correct: one day you’re in, the next day you’re out!)
And now I think that a proper response for the events of that era should not have been trying to ride the successes of Nirvana’s legacy by plugging into the “next big thing” (and other kinds of hype). And I do think we could try to regroup; and simply agree to get back on track by reflecting on the past, accepting the present, and then building solidarity for a more sustainable future. (I think that is what the legacy of past generations of innovators would hope we would do!)
The appearance of email listservs and other online tools for sharing that enthusiasm seemed substantially transformational; and I can see a lot of other concepts at play as a result. And the film reminds us how programs like “Beavis and Butthead” and “Mystery Science Theatre 3000” introduced experiences that show how media consumption is not just passive voyeurism; and further validates how communal behaviors (and other options for sharing these experiences) affords more active participation. And this is more conspicuous now (more than ever before) since we have so many intersecting avenues to explore personally, communally, and across the metaverse.
Going “Do-it-yourself” with college radio shows, booking touring bands, writing reviews of live performances and album recordings, building collections, exchanging mixtapes, putting out our own zine publications, printing small batches of albums on our own record labels, etc. was a radical response that highlights the numerous high stakes financial risks (problematically self-financed through credit card debt); and our devotion seemed unassailable as a demonstration of the importance for building solidarity. And this offers opportunities for learning from those efforts. (And I think we need that now more than ever.) I’m grateful for the continued nostalgia fodder and other kinds of substantial fondness of that Nick Hornsby kind of “high fidelity” vibe; which remains crucial when trying to restore a sentimentality involving complex historical periods in time.
As a matter of fact, while the film lacks more traditional opportunities for offering a happy ending to Gen Xers who have been bewildered since 1994; we can still find literary theories, high-low brow cultural juxtapositions, postmodernist ideas (including pop art), and other insights from historical/socio-cultural movements which could offer both comedic and tragic tales to ponder (and only then is there any likelihood for a better outcome overall).
Bottom line: that nagging question of whether we should choose to become an artist as a profession (when we will likely become another cliched story of “burn out or fade away”) persists. (Because it is probably “better than waiting on tables” is not a very good response; but sometimes these things choose us (and not the other way around).)
At the end of the day, we just have to “make it work” (another Project Runway reference), because it is about both style & substance; content & execution; form & function. Obviously, balancing those crucial creative sensibilities with rational thinking is the only way to navigate this journey called life. A college education should better support that tricky endeavor; but finding a way to transfer those skills into the workforce requires some ingenuity. Trusting your livelihood to “cancel culture” forms of whimsy may seem like an intelligent decision; but it’s certainly not a wise choice for the long haul. Just revisit with the Other Music rockumentary, if you need to do so.
And I am reminded of this notion throughout the context of the Pavements film which showcases the span their creative output; especially trademark pithy lyrics (cf: “I was dressed for success but success it never came”) which reveal that they never wanted to deceive audiences with false grandeur about the futility of conquests of cool (or ultra-hip celebrity status nonsense). Instead, the film overwhelms audiences with its pastiche of various forms of diy culture which is high in nostalgic value of a time often associated with mantras that suggested how “reality bites!” (Always a cringeworthy proposition.)
And it reveals the truth that we still have that nagging “reality hunger ” gnawing at our bellies; especially In the aftermath of Cobain’s death. Clearly, indie rockers were justified for wanting to avoid the pitfalls of being setup for “next Nirvana” popularity; and Pavement were definitely participants of that “We jam econo” movement evidenced minimally by “boozh” and “mersh” lingo from bands like The Minutemen (and many founding members of Pavement were childhood friends originally from Stockton, CA). We must all be Bob Dylan’s soldier children; or perhaps just lost “soul soldiers” (cf: Throwing Muses) struggling to march in solidarity!
Pavements contrasts itself with other rockumentaries about that era (e.g. “Montage of Heck”) with its successful attempts to document the ethos of art; in ways that continue to leave us terribly annoyed that their so-called creative skills never added up to paying the bills (and nobody probably really wanted to admit that we missed Kurt Cobain)! Pavement (the band) had a visibly painfully reluctant spokesperson, and Steve Malkmus’ tortured relationship with MTV only reinforced an aesthetic around such self-conscious cynicism.
And now that broadcasting and journalism are transforming our communication platforms, this feels like it could offer the potential for learning from the strengths and weaknesses of that vast corpus of 90s cultural capital. Furthermore, I can only imagine the ways in which we can transfer their extraordinary talents without inviting those caustic exchanges that typically make or break a scene. So while I think this level of insight can offer ways to incorporate tragedies including Kurt Cobain, Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley, Bill Doss, David Berman, etc. into a cultural campaign for formally prioritizing different skill sets in order to prevent that “burn out or fade away” false polarity of cliched rockumentary endings.
Tortured relationships with mass audiences only reinforce an ongoing flawed “deviation as deficit” mindset; especially for reluctant spokespeople including Steve Malkmus! And the industry has never been well equipped for managing those kinds of situations; because it is just another business at the end of the day (and we all have bills/debts to pay)! The Pavements film succeeds in portraying reluctant rock stars who are too smart to care about mainstream success because we watched Nirvana crash and burn (and are still trying to recover).
But I continue to ponder the importance of arts and culture as more than just entertaining distractions; because I value their offerings of provocative political statements as a cultural barometer of societal morale. I believe that inertia can be harnessed in order to better promote civic engagement and lifelong success as informed, engaged, and wise citizens across organic, analog, and digital artefactual formats as they develop alongside our socio-technical realities. Because I like to think that is what all our fallen heroes (including but not limited to Kurt Cobain) would have wanted us to do.
