In 1994, Pavement destroyed the term “sophomore slump” by recording one of the most poignant coming of age albums of the '90s. Masking sincerity with ironic wit and apathy, chief songwriter Stephen Malkmus wrote a completely honest commentary about rock and roll, careerism and self realization.

On Crooked Rain Crooked Rain, rather than talking about false jackals or ex-magicians, Malkmus refocuses his musings towards the glossy world of corporate rock; a world in which he is both a critic and a participant. The ultra-catchy “Elevate Me Later” and “Cut Your Hair,” are overt stabs at the corporate rock world, yet the songs are just too well-crafted and poppy to remain underground. 

Album opener “Silence Kid” (also printed as “Silence Kit”) begins with the unsure sounds of wah-wah-drenched power chords and a crash cymbal, providing the confident crunch for what looks to be another Pavement garage-rock classic. But what sets the tune apart from the band's past ventures is the level of wit in Malkmus’ lyrics.

“Silence Kid” has two story lines: one about a young boy getting into masturbation, and another about a drum set. The intertwining of these two themes can be seen as another fractured fairytale; but it also can be looked at as Malkmus’ indie-rock conscience rapping at his door. It is the thesis statement to Pavement's rock-and-roll graduate course. Malkmus has to make the decision to either be the supposed slacker-wanker behind the guitar, trying to stay cool with the hip kids, or to take himself as a serious musician and songwriter.

What makes Crooked Rain stand apart from other subversive rock albums like Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy is that Pavement never had to break rules that corporate rock forced upon them. Thus, Malkmus has the freedom to poke fun at the plastic people in Hollywood before making an attempt to be sincere.

The singer gets personal on the album’s third song, “Stop Breathin’,” where he reaches back to his tortured days as a high school varsity tennis player. He dwells on the pains of getting “struck by the first volley,” before serving up his best tennis and speculating that he is really performing for someone else - perhaps his father - rather than for his own satisfaction.

The most compelling aspect of “Stop Breathin’,” is that the listener can’t tell if it's a joke or not. Surely Stephen Malkmus, a singer notorious for taking pot shots at lame rock stars, isn’t trying to get us to sympathize with him. Is he actually complaining about his unbroken home? Is he truly upset about his parents' willingness to pay for his out of state University of Virginia tuition? Probably not. But is his vocal performance on this track sincere? Absolutely.

The strength of new drummer Steve West also shines through on “Stop Breathin’.” Unlike Slanted And Enchanted drummer Gary Young, who gave the band a fast-paced psychedelic feel, West is able to unite with bass player Mark Ibold and auxiliary noisemaker Bob Nastonovich to help stretch out Pavement’s sonic playing field. The rejuvenated rhythm section allows Malkmus and rhythm guitarist Scott Kannenberg to choreograph some stellar picking arrangements that simultaneously provide colorful texture and build tension throughout the final minutes of the song.

This performance and the delicate, lackadaisical “Newark Wilder” exemplify Pavement’s stance on music in general, circa the Crooked Rain era. Malkmus would come to the table with charmingly offbeat pop songs chock full of classic rock hooks, and the band would hardly practice them before going into the studio. By recording time, they all had some semblance of the scripted songs, but not too much. With this approach, they were able to record the album with a certain apathetic swagger but still produce an amazingly rich product.

Malkmus and crew take these songs as far as they can without absolutely colliding with one another. At the moment when their musical house of cards sounds as if it is about to crumble, they somehow pull it together and end each song in savoir-faire fashion. Songs such “Gold Soundz” and “”Range Life” showcase the band’s irresistible pop hooks, while the seemingly contemptuous Malkmus praises and sneers the importance of rock music.

“Range Life” earned Malkmus the reputation of being a snotty indie jerk, but a close listening reveals the songwriter isn’t only questioning the point of the Smashing Pumpkins in his song, but questioning the relevance of rock stars in general, including himself:

“Out on tour with the Smashing Pumpkins, nature’s kids, I/They don’t have no function.”

“Range Life” is the keystone on Crooked Rain Crooked Rain because it reads like a journal entry of a young man fresh out of school, with no direction home. It’s about a college graduate paying his dues at his crappy job. It’s about a music fan riding around on a skateboard while listening to his walkman, and an indie jokester pondering making a career of rocking out. It’s a light, breezy, acoustic ditty laced with clever quips about popular rock. But it’s also a picture-perfect essay of a young man trying to grasp the expectations of the adult world and figure out what really matters in life.

Despite the tongue-in-cheek lyrics and the ironic delivery of Pavement’s second full-length album, it is an accurate commentary on rock n’ roll in the ‘90s. It’s particularly effective assesment of the first half of the decade, when indie-stalwarts such as Dinosaur Jr., Nirvana, Sonic Youth, Meat Puppets, and the Butthole Surfers all made the jump to major labels.

Pavement close out their thesis with a proper adieu to rock n’ roll called “Fillmore Jive.” The first verse shows Malkmus’ take on classic rock, trotting out lines like “Hey Lady, what do you need? Do you think you’d like to bleed with me?” before launching into a chorus of “I need to sleep, why won’t you let me sleep?” Is he poking fun at the clichéd motif of needing sleep in rock songs? Does he need to get sleep from all of the classic rock influences that haunt him?

Malkmus then addresses “the jam kids on the Vespas,” the punks who “got spikes,” and “the rockers with their long curly locks,” before telling them to say “Goodnight to the rock n’ roll era, cause they don’t need you anymore, little girl, boy, girl, boy.” He goes on about rock and roll’s demise before launching into an epic blitzkrieg of loud guitars and slop.

But the slop is perfect. The listener couldn’t ask for a better addendum to the Crooked Rain Crooked Rain manifesto, because even though the song is about the end of rock n’ roll; it is rock n’ roll to the fullest. Here are five white guys in their 20s who just want to rock out. They don’t have much else to write about other than music. They poke fun at then-juggernaut bands like the Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots because they were the easiest scapegoats at the time.

But no matter what Malkmus sings, how he sings it, or who he makes fun of, the bottom line is that his band likes to rock out just as much as Stone Temple Pilots. Malkmus ends his commentary with a clever couplet that describes what happens after the corporate rock show: “They pull out their plugs and they snort up their drugs. When they pull out their plugs and they snort up their drugs, their throats are filled with…”

Like any great artist, Stephen Malkmus keeps you hanging on for the last word. And like any great wanker, he doesn’t give it to you.