Type Slowly.

Expanded. Now with less rock critic.

Tab One:
It’s hard to say which came first, the indie rock scene or Pavement’s perfection of it, but in the early ‘90s Pavement arrived and their fast growing roster of heavy-on-the-pop post-punk tunes took hold and indie rock history followed. Crafty pop jams built with witty lyrics, treble-kicking guitars, plunging bass lines and Ringo-rivaling drums defined their sound. “Cut Your Hair,” their largest single from their bestselling, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, showcased their mastery of the low-fi edge, while their preceding Ode to a Cool Chick love song, “Summer Babe,” mastered distorted instruments for a chic and inviting pop anthem. But Pavement’s greatest mastery was their profoundly evolving sound. Take Wowee Zowee’s “Rattled By the Rush,” where gliding melodies present Pavement’s musical interpretation of a Nashville urban sprawl, all the while still retaining Pavement’s boyish charm.

Next up, Pavement’s profoundly evolving sound.

Tab Two:
The thing about Pavement is you come for their raucous attitude, but you stay for their welcoming veneer. When Wowee Zowee arrived, many fans wondered where the noisy jams went but weren't upset by the thoughtful orchestration of their new slower pace – somehow the music seemed friendlier. So as Pavement matured, so did their fans. Songs became melancholy with a psychedelic circus quality, as in, “Motion Suggests,” where keyboards slowly swirled amidst carefully syncopated guitars and washboard instruments or songs became brilliant as heard in Pavement’s Terror Twilight and Brighten The Corners. On these last albums, a great melding of passion and practice create spot-on pop music like the apparent love song, “Spit On a Stranger,” or the tuneful, “Shady Lane.”

Not Tonight.

Is there such a thing as "Going Out Burn-Out"? I have it.

After 20 some odd years of what I call, "aggressive going out," I have pretty much lost my ability to tolerate a show. I get bored. The consideration of going, the ticket dilema, the waiting to go, the day of, the outfit, the shoes, the loss of comfortable couch and early pajamas, the creeping fatigue, the drive over, the parking, the price of parking, the walking to avoid the fee of parking, the talking loudly so you can be heard and hear your compatriot, the compratriotism, the other compatriots at the show, their small-talk, the expensive diet coke, the opening band, your band, the threat of an encore, the audience and then finally, the joy of going home, so tired, it's the middle of the week, you have to go to work tomorrow, to a job where people eMail you how shitty you are, only because they don't believe you're a human, maybe even a nice girl, knows a few jokes, has a boyfriend who likes to play with her, enjoys writing, fumbling with music and learning to draw, photography too, wants nothing more than to do a good job in spite of you and not a hideous, emotionless, idiot droid.

Unless I can sit at the show.



So what do I like now? What do I want to do?

I like to read four books at once, fifth being a dictionary. I like to listen to music at home, comfortable and warm, leaving the pomp away. I like to watch baseball. I like to play cut and paste with musical programs. I like to doodle. I like to write. I like to look at photography. Hiking in parks oddly placed. Bicycles. I dream.