A conversation with Stephen Malkmus from 1999
Just before Terror Twilight came to represent Pavement's last gleaming, we spoke about the group's most flagrant sell-out move, jam bands, the death of irony, and the best Black Sabbath tribute acts
Welcome to stübermania, where I dig into my box of dust-covered interview cassettes from the ‘90s and ‘00s and present bygone conversations with your favourite alterna/indie semi-stars. This is a newsletter in three parts: The Openers (links to recent writings, playlist updates, and/or other musical musings), The Headliner (your featured interview of the week), and Encores (random yet related links).
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THE OPENERS
I got to see (recent stübermania headliners) Redd Kross this past Monday for my third time ever, but this was my first time seeing them with Melvins’ resident crusher Dale Crover on drums, and there is currently no power-pop band more powerful. And Jeff McDonald’s ageless voice proves that 60 is indeed the new 16.
Just when it seemed that Pavement were starting to slip out of our newsfeeds after nearly two years of touring and TikToking, they’re making headlines once again. First came the news that the band had been chosen as extras in the movie adaptation of the sequel to their lives. And then we got the debut single from The Hard Quartet, a.k.a. Stephen Malkmus’ new supergroup with Matt Sweeney (Chavez), Jim White (Dirty Three), and Emmett Kelly (Cairo Gang, Ty Segall). Their hard-prog groover “Earth Hater” leads this week’s update of the stübermania 2024 playlist, which also includes some Pavementine pop from Amsterdam’s Personal Trainer, whose delightful new album Still Willing (out this Friday) stretches its Malkmusian melodies across a vast, shapeshafting musical terrain that spans bedroom beats, sci-fi synths, and even a little metal.
Click on the image below to access the Apple Music version:
And speaking of Pavement…
THE HEADLINER
A conversation with Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus from 1999
Date: April 21, 1999
Location: Phoner—Stephen was in Portland; I was at my parents’ house in Toronto
Album being promoted: Pavement’s Terror Twilight
The context: Terror Twilight is the Pavement album I reach for the least, but it’s the Pavement album I’ve written about the most: In 2019, I spent 2,500 words laying out my eternally conflicted feelings about the record in a Pitchfork Sunday review, and three years later in the same publication, I devoted another 5,000 to mapping out the album’s troubled trajectory in this oral history featuring interviews with all five members of the band, producer Nigel Godrich, and other key players in the process. And to that tally we can add the 800 or so words Chart magazine allotted me in 1999 for an article based on this interview with the band’s singer, guitarist, and primary songwriter, Stephen Malkmus.
This was my first time interviewing Malkmus, an experience I would get to revisit another four times over the next 25 years (all by phone). And each time, he’s been exactly who you’d want him to be: charming and cheeky, but also honest and opinionated—an island of such great complexity bordered by a real chill beach. (In fact, Malkmus is such an easygoing conversationalist that it’s easy to lose sight of your prepared line of questioning and just casually shoot the shit on a number of topics that have little chance of factoring into your final piece.)
As the album that precipitated their initial break-up in late ‘99, Terror Twilight casts a long shadow over Pavement’s history. But when I spoke to Malkmus six weeks before the record’s release, there was little indication that the end was nigh. In fact, there was a lot of excitement and speculation about what the record could mean for Pavement’s future—i.e., whether Godrich’s golden production touch could help them crossover to the Britpop crowd, or if Malkmus’ growing fascination with English folk finger-pickers and blues-rock shredders portended an immersion into the jam-band scene. True to form, when I connected with Malkmus by phone, he had a folkie fave playing in the background…
What are you listening to?
I'm listening to Dick Gaughan. He's a finger-picking guitarist. Good music for cleaning up in the morning, and, you know, waking up happy.
Yesterday, I was doing an interview with Alun [Woodward] from The Delgados, and he informed me that your single "Carrot Rope" is getting prominent daytime play on British national radio, which he said is a good sign that it will be a hit. Was that song your intentional bid for Britpop supremacy?
Not really. It's only a single in England. We're not putting it out here.
What was the rationale for doing separate singles in separate countries?
I don't know. I guess Matador didn't like that one [for the U.S.]. And I don't really care about singles. I think all the songs are good, you know what I mean? So I just was like, "yeah, if [the band’s British label, Domino] want to put that one out, go ahead. You're the person who has to sell it!" I just write the songs and let [the label] do their thing. I guess Matador wasn't down with "Carrot Rope," I have no idea. Maybe they didn't hear... we remixed it at the last moment so it's a little better now, they might have just heard the old mix of it, which wasn't very good. Now it's a little zingier. I added some parts in Oregon, I did some overdubs, and then Nigel remixed it.
At this point, Pavement have developed into, for lack of a better term, a very American-sounding band. But since the "Give it a Day" single, your voice has taken on a more, for the lack of a better term, British intonation.
You reckon?
I was wondering if you actually prefer British culture to American culture.
I don't know. I'm just trying to sound sort of non-regional and just sound like myself. [Speaks in a Texan twang] I ain't gonna sound like this, because I'm from California, but if I do California brat-punk, it just sounds bad. So I just mix California and New York. I like some English groups from the ‘60s and '70s—you know, they had it really going on at one point. And then obviously, in the post-punk era, there were some great acts. And, I mean, now it seems most of the best bands are in Scotland, as far as guitar bands. But I still think America is the place to be. I mean, we still we have Lou Reed and Don Van Vliet. I mean, Bowie is, like, lame compared to Lou Reed as far as I'm concerned. But England has Led Zeppelin and the Groundhogs—I like those bands a lot, too. The folk bands are good too. I like The Fairport Convention—that hippie stuff.
It's funny: Thurston Moore has said Sonic Youth would probably be more at home touring with Phish these days than any alterna-rock festival. I'm wondering if you felt the same way about Pavement and where you are now.
People talk to me about that a lot. Let's say the ultimate safe edge of that music is Dave Matthews—I'd rather play with him than play with No Doubt, or something like that. I don't know about the other guys in the band. Then Matador is always like, "well, that would be really good, if you guys could go over to those fans”—the trustafarians or whatever that buy those Phish records. We're open to anything—anyone who wants to like us, it's fine with me. I'm not going to be too picky at this stage of the game. Kurt Cobain would be like, "I felt so bad—there were these rednecks moshing or date-raping to my songs." So we can be like, "I felt so bad—there was this University of Vermont kid drunk-driving in his BMW to my record."
Do you still get crowd surfers?
Yeah, a little bit. It's like an atavistic thing that is still in people's bodies. They can't help it, even on the quiet songs, occasionally. It's probably less and less, since the album of Crooked Rain. We had more moshers then.
I was at your Lollapalooza show here in '95, and I went right up front because I expected it to be relatively peaceful scene, but no such luck.
It was pandenomium! That was a good show for us by Lollapalooza standards. It was fun.
Would you have any bones about playing Woodstock?
The town or the festival?
The festival, which actually isn’t in Woodstock.
I don't think so. It depends on what it was like—who was playing and, like, what the scene was.
Dave Matthews is playing, actually!
Yeah, it could be Dave Matthews, Phish, and us. I don't know—if the money was right, I'd hate to say it, I might be willing to do it. We've done so much cheesy shit before. We flew to Detroit to play with Beck, and I know Beck is cool and stuff, but it was a lot of work just to go all the way to Detroit to open up for Beck.
What's been the low point for you—your most shameless act of borderline selling out?
It probably happened, like, in England or Europe. We signed records in a Virgin Megastore once in Spain—that was embarrassing.
Did anyone show up?
A few people. I mean, it was back at Slanted and Enchanted time. We also got a partial Levi's sponsorship in Germany for a tour. It paid for our bus. All we had to do was have a little Levi's thing on our bus, but no one knew we were in the bus. And then on the tour flyers, there was a little Levi's insignia on there.
It could be worse. Here, Durex Condoms are sponsoring bands, and they paint their tour bus pink with a big sperm fish swimming on the side.
Oh, my God, that's really desperation, if you have to go that much lower for sponsorship. We did do that Levi's thing, but that was Germany. None of my friends could see it. That country's got some problems, some historical problems, so I didn't mind taking from their industrial elite or whatever.
What's the mood like there?
It's good. I actually like the people there a lot, and I've had a great time, I hate to say it. Moreso than France or something. The people we met have a really good sense of humour. They're very kind of Americanized, for want of a better term—or Canadianized or North Americanized, so that makes it good to travel, I hate to say. I know you should want exotic things or something, but sometimes you don't. You just want modernism. All the taxis are Mercedes.
At any point, did you actually believe that mainstream rock 'n' roll culture would change for the better, and that bands like Nirvana would be the rule as opposed to the exception?
No, not really. I sort of assumed from growing up in the '80s that the better things are not going to have the larger audience—or the things that I like more. I mean, there's no doubt in my mind that [Nirvana] was sort of a fluke, and they were fans of the Television Personalities and the Meat Puppets, genuinely,
It seemed like they were the perfect balance of being mainstream and having integrity.
Yeah, I mean, a lot of people probably think they're doing that now. I'm sure Rage Against the Machine and Hole and Smashing Pumpkins think of themselves that way too, selling millions of records but artistically achieving things.
But when you sang "good night to the rock 'n' roll era," did you ever think things would get this bad?
They're not much worse than it was before, in the 80s. It's kind of the same. I mean, it's just a different kind of hair-metal, just a little more pierced and tattooed, with shorter hair. I mean, I can listen to that stuff and get into some of it—like, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains, I like a couple of their songs. But I don't really like all the Eve6 and Creed. And I don't think I like Korn, really. I don't know—they're weird to me. But they're from Bakersfield, so I give them a break.
Do you feel that all the critical discourse and overanalysis that Pavement are subjected to interferes with people approaching you as just a simple pop band?
I don't think so. Perhaps they could. But on the other hand, it should just be able to do that without us having to explain why it's good pop and intellectual or something. I mean, like, Elvis Costello or XTC are songsmith guys that write brainy tunes. But they're also considered to be pop bands, twisted pop bands. I guess we have more of a rock side than them.
The new XTC album is actually pretty good.
Is it? I've never been a fan... I'm not anti-XTC, but I've never been a big fan. I have friends who are and they're like, "you gotta check it out."
Do you find it easier to make records now that the scrutiny has subsided somewhat and people are busy over-analyzing Sleater-Kinney now?
Yeah, there you go! Also maybe getting older and not really feeling like you have anything to answer for anymore like that—you're right, it's sort of freeing. I mean, it's just about making good songs and making a good album. It was about that before, but I guess sometimes we felt the need to have this added discourse going along or something to justify it. But I just felt very normal making this record. Obviously, it was hard to do in some ways, but it was just about us and Nigel making it. I wasn't thinking about the outside world too much.
Have you ever written a lyric as a joke, just to see how critics would interpret it?
Yeah, critics are people and listeners. Some of the lyrics are these drunken one-liners that aren't supposed to mean that much. Like, let's say it was 12 o'clock at night and I was just talking bullshit, and we were drinking a lot, and it might make sense that night while you were drunk, but then if you thought about it the next morning, you'd be like, "Shut up, you idiot. You were just talking out of your ass” or whatever. Like, there's a line in the song "The Hexx" about architecture students being virgins or something. I mean, I don't really think that. I don't want to cut on architecture students. They're fine. I don't have a qualm with them building those buildings. It's just a joke, you know?
Going through old articles for research purposes, it seems that every time you put out a record, by the time you get around to doing all the interviews for it, you seem reluctant to talk about it. And it reminded me of something Elliott Smith told me in an interview last year, where he said that once he writes a song and puts it out, it's dead to him, it's time to move on—it's like dumping a girlfriend. Do you feel that way, too?
Yeah, it feels that way. It's sort of a defense mechanism against thinking that's all you could do, or that was the best you could do. If you're so into it, then there's no real reason to do anything more, and you've got to sort of move on. I do always feel I have a burst of relative creativity after we finish a record—like, I'll write three new songs right when I get home from all the hard work, because you're kind of sick of [your last record], or you're sort of rebelling against it. Also, you listen to it too much. But yeah, that's probably a good attitude for a prolific guy like him.
He also mentioned wanting to put out a record every six months, like bands in the '70s.
I mean, that's nice. If I had that many good songs, I would do it, but I don't, really. I mean, I don't have that much to say, and I don't want everything to sound the same, even on an album or two. I'm always trying to fight with my voice and the instruments to make it sound a little different without going drum 'n' bass or whatever. There's enough CDs out there already. I'm totally up for the two-year album cycle. I don't need to be in people's faces year-round.
I read this quote of yours from the Wowee Zowee era, where you said that you wanted to make serious classic rock songs, but something inside you prevented you from going all the way and reaching those emotional heights. Do you still harbour those inhibitions?
I don't know—that's just me analyzing myself. That was just me probably listening to the record afterwards. I mean, if I had John Bonham—or even one guy in Led Zeppelin who is that talented—with me, then maybe I could get close or something. Our thing is not about artistic genius, really. It's about learning stuff and putting your heart in it. But those [Led Zeppelin] guys are pretty slick. Then again, I don't think, like, Free were the most slick guys either, and they made quote-unquote, classic rock, but it was a three chords. And they had a good drummer, a really kick-ass drummer, he could play. AC/DC—their drummer is outrageous, he's just spot on. I didn't realize it was that hard to do that—just to play one of those songs through that hard, and that tight. It's hard to do actually, I always thought drumming was easy, and I've been doing it lately. I play drums on the first part of a song on the record, "Speak, See, Remember." I did the jazzy drums on that. I can do that, but I can't keep time like Mr. Machine.
On first listen, Terror Twilight seems to carry over the same sort of atmospheric feel as Brighten the Corners. But a lot of the songs also have these chaotic structures, which remind me of Wowee Zowee. I was wondering if you were reacting against the sort of polished feel of Brighten the Corners.
Not really, I wasn't even thinking about that record. I mean, Scott [Kannberg, a.k.a. Spiral Stairs] changed the sequence at the last second. I was just giving in a bit to the band, and to him, and he thought it was really bad to put "Platform Blues" first, because it's too weird. Me and Nigel and wanted that. So it ends up going softly in, kind of like the last record, but hopefully... I guess there's going to be hints of everything we do in there, but it's not really conscious. We're trying to do new stuff that still sounds like Pavement.
It's a pretty deceptive record. My first reaction was like, "wow, this is really mellow." But as the album goes on...
Yeah, it's not necessarily mellow. It's even more rocking... actually, we canned two of the songs that were going to be rocking, because we couldn't play them. [laughs]. We're getting old... I love the guys. They're good at the slow songs... It's also the fact that Nigel's production is kind of warm and vibey...
He's really fond of those swooshy effects...
Yeah, I know—fucker! He did it on "The Hexx". [Makes a swooshy effect] That's his trademark. We weren't gonna even do that song because we had like, two other ones.
The Matador bio says "The Hexx" was inspired by Black Sabbath...
Well, it was supposed to be heavy like that, and so was the second half of "Platform Blues." But it changed.
Did you see the Sabbath reunion tour?
I wanted to. I heard it was great. My friend went to the Rose Garden here in Portland and had a great time. There's a band callad Sabbra Caddabra that played at my friend's 40th—they're great, too. They're the number one Black Sabbath tribute act. I can give you their phone number. They're actually really good. They sound exactly like them. They played on the top of the World Trade Center. It was awesome. My friend thought it was really Black Sabbath—like, when he came in, it was a surprise birthday party, and he was like, "I can't believe you guys got Black Sabbath for my birthday!"
Is there any particular reason why Scott has no solo contributions on this record?
Not really, we just decided to do it this way as we were going through the songs, and we decided these are the 12 strongest ones we had at the time. I mean, everyone has a right to write songs for this group if they want to, but everyone seemed to want it to be this way. I'm sure Scott would have been happy to contribute a couple of tunes, but he just was kind of unprepared when he got to Portland and we rehearsed.
He was settling nicely into that George Harrison/John Entwhistle role...
Yeah. He's got at least one song on every record, and I was just like "why don't we just do one with all these songs, and we'll just see if it sounds better or worse," you know? I'm gonna probably regret it when we're touring, because I'll have to sing more.
You can just play longer guitar solos...
I know, that's the plan.
Your solos have become much more fluid. Who are your favourite guitar wankers?
Jeff Spicoli. I don't know... I like Tony McPhee from the Groundhogs a lot, and Jimmy Page. Hard to say—I just think of those old guys right away.
Is there one particular solo that just makes you cry every time you hear it?
Hmmm... not really. I like Page and Hendrix and Jeff Beck.
You've got to hear Jeff Beck's new techno record.
Beckno! Do I have to get off the phone? I'm not running out of time, am I?
No one's interrupted us yet. Do you have a lot of these interviews today?
I just have four. But I got to go do my laundry in between the ones from Australia.
What time is it over there?
I don't have my international clock. They're calling me at 5:30. I'm also fasting right now—I'm not eating anything but fruit juice today.
Is that for health reasons?
Yeah, I'm just checking it out to see how it makes me feel. I mean, I feel fine, but...
Did you read that article in Spin last month about these new raw food cults?
That's me for five days!
It's supposed to take you to a higher level consciousness.
I don't know about that. The idea of raw meat grosses me out. It stays in your stomach for so long, even sushi. I'm eating raw vegetables. The plan is to just purify before...
The soul-crushing tour...
Yeah, where I'm just going to get wasted every night.
You guys are doing some UK festivals this year... but is it true you're skipping out on the Bowlie Weekender for horse-racing purposes?
No, we're just under-rehearsed. We didn't have time to rehearse for it. And we don't really want to fly over there just for one show. I'm sick of traveling anyway. So that was the main reason, no matter how fun it would be
I heard that, as part of your ticketed admission, you get access to Sony PlayStations in your chalet.
I know you get accommodations and shit like that. They take care of that for you. It sounds like a good deal, but I just don't want to travel right now
It's only 2,000 people there—you'll need at least 100,000 to get on a plane...
Exactly. I want to kick out that solo on "The Hexx" for a Lollapalooza-style audience. All right, I gotta go. Can you wrap it up? I'm sorry to say that...
No problem. One last question. I interviewed Damon from Blur recently, and he was talking about the death of irony as a rhetorical device. Do you agree with that?
I mean, if someone can do it well, I'm up for it. I mean, people are still using it in TV. I see it in popular culture. Was he saying Blur is not ironic on this record or they are?
They're not.
Yeah, they're not really. They're trying to be sincere and shit or whatever. Well, I don't think it's that much to lament, necessarily. I mean, it just depends on what your goals are for your music. If you want to do social commentary and witty stuff, irony is good. If you are going for more of a personal heart-to-heart/soul thing, irony is not a very soulful thing, generally. It's very closely related to cynicism.
Are you feeling particularly ironic these days?
No, really far from it. I mean, I'm just trying to to... I don't know. I feel just hungry.
ENCORES
Even though it looks like their website hasn’t been updated since 1997, Sabbra Cadabra had at least one date on the books in 2024, so they may be available to play our next milestone birthday party.
Check out what Malkmus’ Pavement partner Scott Kannberg has been up to in this feature I wrote for Stereogum in 2022.
In their mid-’90s heyday, Pavement weren’t just a band, but a subgenre unto themselves—here’s my playlist of the best Pavementy songs that aren’t actually Pavement songs, from the ‘90s to the present. (Click here to access the Apple Music version.)
Next week’s Headliner: Gene Ween
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