Alternative rock band, Pavement, is an overlooked staple of the ’90s. Their laid-back sound and clumsy style is a token of the decade’s slacker culture. Pavement attracted a lot of underground attention at first, then hit the mainstream with their 1992 release, “Slanted and Enchanted,” which critics raved about. Later the same year, they put out an eleven-minute-and-thirty-second EP called “Watery, Domestic.”

Track one of the EP, “Texas Never Whispers,” fittingly starts with an ear- splitting guitar that is run through extreme high-gain distortion. The noise fizzles out after playing for about twenty seconds, leading into a much softer song than is first introduced. Eerie guitars and drums build up suspense for the lyrics to start, before quickly dropping off into a mainly bass-led riff.

The only way to describe Pavement’s style is effortless – not necessarily effortlessly good or bad, just effortless because their music sounds as though it just falls out of their instruments and they go along with it. The blend of dissonance and well-timed execution keeps listeners guessing whether or not any of it is intentional. As the chorus collides with the end of the first verse in “Texas Never Whispers,”a symphony of dissonant guitars orchestrate the background of the sound. The song slowly descends into disorder that is kept in place by intricate drumming, and ends with a total collapse of structure.

Track two, “Frontwards,” is another slow-burning indie rock song. The quiet fuzz that encompasses the song’s production fits perfectly with its rainy day nature. The guitars on “Frontwards” have a special arrangement and really make the song stand out. The guitars are simple in nature, yet they take the spotlight in several places like the chorus and in segments of cooperation in the verses. The vocals of the song are sung in Steve Malkmus’ staple spoken-song style. Though his vocals have a melody, he prefers to speak it rather than project his voice and sing. For the indie atmosphere, this choice plays to great effect, amplifying the choruses and giving room to build in the verse and bridge.

Track three’s “Lions (linden),” showcases the talent of the band’s drummer, Gary Young. The song starts with a flamboyant fill, using toms to great effect. The domino effect from this energy kickstarts the rest of the band for the most upbeat song of the EP. Track three changes the way in which they display dynamics. The entire band plays for the whole song, creating a huge sound. In order to build up from this peak, they use drummer Young and his great showmanship to mark changes in the song. He uses this type of dynamic change to switch between the verse and bridge, a section soaked in a bassline that runs laps around the band. In this section, the band crashes down the house, ending beautifully. This energetic flag point in the EP sets a perfect scene for track four.

The final track on the EP, “Shoot the Singer,’’ should by all means be a bonafide classic. The soft nature of the song makes it a very easy listen. Its gently picked guitar and softly sung vocals alone place it in indie rock history. Being interlaced with moments of intense and fun sounds surely helps with that as well. The verses in this song flourish, as every instrument feels necessary. There is no moment in which a single member steals the spotlight. The song really feels like a collaborative effort to create a jejune energy unmatched by any single I’ve heard since.

This collaborative section becomes a ripple in a lake when compared to the boulder-sized splash the chorus creates. Incorporating distorted guitars that fumble around the increasing intensity of Malkmus’ belted vocals, creates a very emotional atmosphere that quickly dissipates once the next verse comes around.

In place of a solo coming after the second chorus, the band tastefully dissolves behind a simple bass line. The melody is only a couple of notes, but thanks to interesting picking patterns and cooperation with a quietly plucked guitar, it feels strong enough to be treated as a solo on its own.

This gentle environment, yet again washed away when electric guitars come crashing back and wail over quiet “la-da-das,” soon becomes a tsunami of over-bent chords and screaming. When the storm washes back out to sea, the only thing remaining is Steve Malkmus telling the audience, “Don’t expect,” in an almost fed-up tone.

I find this to be a perfect ending to my all-time favorite project by Pavement. Faced with no expectations, I was captivated by “Watery, Domestic.”

This story is excerpted from the February issue of LMCS’s Manor Monthly.