Review Summary: A bizarre, unique amalgamation of everything that made Pavement so special.
In our lives, we often stick to structure. Planned-out schedules, timely goals, and safe bets occupy the majority of our worries. We try to balance the 1-hour workout session at the YMCA after the tedious 9-5 and then proceed to cook dinner, talk to our partners, and tuck the kids into bed. We enjoy the calm suburban presence of an open lawn, cherish the excellent schools, and laud the idea of family time, reluctantly buying your little kid extra ice cream while the other kid begs for obscure Pokemon toys. And while this may seem like an enjoyable lifestyle, it's ultimately a lifestyle of stiffness and inaction. You're unable to do whatever you may please. The white picket dream has climbed over you and said '' This is forever'', endlessly supplying you with a non-stop assault of wife, kids, work, money, wife, kids, money, and whatever conventional societal expectation that dictates your life.
This is where Pavement's Wowee Zowee comes in, an album totally oblivious to traditional songwriting rules, mainstream trends, and structure. The key word here is structure. Unlike many prominent music albums, Wowee Zowee's niche is being sloppy, unorganized, lazy, and inconsistent. Songs dabble in half-spoken poetry, standard balladry, cacophonous blasts of noise, and random non-sequiturs. The whole album feels a drunk driver speeding at 100 MPH, taking multiple 360 turns to only park in a small, little river in the middle of nowhere. It's aimless, pointless, intense, eccentric, plaintive, calm but ultimately an extremely rewarding experience, no matter how tuned-out we may be at the end of it.
Take 'Half a Canyon', track 17. A quiet, nondescript blues lick opens the song. For a couple of minutes, we hear a series of half-choruses and instrumental breakdowns. Struggling to see where this is going, we question whether or not this song is worth listening to. Then, out of nowhere, a rushing guitar sound comes in. Organs slowly creep in, the vocals grow in intensity, guitars spin out of control, culminating in a '' WAAAAHHHHHH WHERE AM I GOING GOING!!!!!!!!!'' climax.
Other tracks embody this feel as well. Take 'False Skorpion', a quirky B-side. A funky, little guitar riff begins the song. Stephen Malkmus starts to utter indecipherable phrases along the lines of '' Skorpion don't have teeth.'' The song then stops suddenly... to only hear Malkmus shout uncontrollably. '' WAAH... WAAHH..... WAHHH..... WAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!'' The guitars chine in with the nonsensical singing and just as you thought things were going to get chaotic, a calm, yet brilliant guitar arpeggio closes out the song.
It's the sheer unpredictability of the record that enamors me. You can't predict whether or not Pavement's going out of control, taking a rest, or continuing on. You simply can't.
To all the 30-somethings who feel dragged by down by society's rules, listen to Wowee Zowee. Listen to the sound of a band totally devoid of coherence, meaning, and structure. Take in the cryptic sarcasm of Stephen Malkmus and indulge in the smug indifference of not giving a ***. Don't feel pressured to make a mistake or a wrong-doing, purposely commit them. Don't stack things in order, throw everything on the carpet. Throw your bills, credit cards, your fans, your daughter's stupid Barbie dolls, your son's actions figures, your wife's pseudo-intellectual copy of Dr.Oz's weight loss advice, and a plethora of rather mundane materials.
Go out and explore the world. Get drunk during your kid's birthday party and vomit all over the presents. Take an exotic vacation to a remote island in Fiji. Trash your wife's penchant for jewelry and buy her a ragged, worn-down dress. Go from meditation in the day-time to drag racing during the night. Most importantly, listen to Wowee Zowee, and remember that life's best moments aren't ones that are arranged but ones that happen unexpectedly.
