I recently saw something while in Chicago that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. As Pavement opened another set of their reunion tour, this one being “Cut Your Hair,” I noticed a guy in front of me, flanking to my left. He had long blonde hair and a beard, and had to be in his early thirties; he looked like a perfect candidate for “Pavement Changed My Life in the 90s.” In the middle of the song, he looked back, staring off with a distinct look on his face. He was excited, but of course everybody was excited. This guy, though, had a look of disbelief and sheer joy unparalleled by anything I could muster up. It felt like he was somebody who bought Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain when it first came out. Like somebody who was there when the news broke that Pavement were done playing music.

I felt as excited as anybody in the crowd, but ultimately, I couldn’t feel what that guy felt. I’m 20, and though I’ve been a fan of the band for five years, I came around long after they broke up. I entirely missed the Next-Big-Thing hype these guys toyed around with for several years. I absolutely loved seeing Stephen Malkmus walk out on stage, but I couldn’t match the cathartic release that this other guy must have been feeling. Not in the moment, but in reflecting on that moment, I came back to a question I’ve wrestled with for years. What about this band triggers this outpouring of emotions?

Whenever I think about the music I like, I come to bands like Radiohead and the early-to-middle work of Modest Mouse, and think about their intensity, their raw emotion, the grandiose nature in which they overpower you. How easy is it to describe the haunting, desolate rush of Kid A? That’s an album that makes me dream of another, albeit horrifying, world for fifty minutes; same with The Moon & Antarctica. Or how about the eloquent fury with which Isaac Brock kills seventy minutes of The Lonesome Crowded West? The music, and I mean this in the most positive way possible, is heavy-handed. And yet, standing alongside these revered artists is Pavement, a band noted for its nonsensical lyrics and free-willing attitude to do whatever suited them. Thom Yorke fretted over a computerized society, Isaac Brock lamented over death and the absence of God. Stephen Malkmus warned us of…the Fame Throwa? I never intended to trivialize Pavement to goofballs, rather, this was what made them fascinating. How could I listen to Pavement sing about carrot ropes with the same zeal that I listened to Radiohead recount the wolf at the door? What could have caused a grown man to react to a whimsical song like “Cut Your Hair” like he just had his Come to Jesus moment? The answer never felt concrete, but it always came back to great, unique songs over and over again will win people over. Still, I felt unsatisfied, still needing that extra push to tell me why.

Their evolution from lo-fi punk squalls to fully formed pop songs is stunning enough. But their ability to endure no matter what genre they tackled–and this was an eclectic band–was the work of Stephen Malkmus. As much as we like to believe that the ensemble cast made it happen collectively, it is too hard to ignore Malkmus’ prowess as a frontman. Whether it be punk, alt-country, or a ballad, Malkmus thrived as the trigger man with his deadpanned vocals, off-centered melodies, and syllabic lyrical choices. He made lyrics matter without dealing with the weightiness (or often without making sense) that so many songwriters reach for. His deadpanned vocals were a staple of Pavement, despite conversational vocals being featured by several other bands, you always could tell when a Pavement song was playing. Probably his greatest contribution, and to the credit of the rest of the band like Mark Ibold and Spiral Stairs, was the ability to craft hooks out of obscurity. A marriage of vocal melodies and guitar riffs working together to strike up gems that would lodge in memories was the Pavement specialty. They were exceptionally catchy for a band that didn’t deliver shimmering, clean-cut melodies, and ultimately, that might be the whole key to the band.

Slanted and Enchanted rings with a defined fuzz and reverberated sound that makes it the edgiest, raw, and most lasting album of them all. In the opener of the album, you could make a case that the appeal of Pavement is best summed up in “Summer Babe,” a signature song, no doubt, and one that captures the majority of the band’s most charming qualities. “Summer Babe” starts out with an immediately recognizable riff, showing off their knack for making hooks with their guitars. Then the nonsensical but memorable lyrics get displayed with “icy baby/I saw your girlfriend/and she’s eating her fingers/like they’re just another meal.” Then there’s the catchiness, which starts from the verses and carry on to the “you’re my summer babe” chorus, and refrain of “every time I sit around/I find I’m shocked.” It’s three minutes of pure sing-along, which also gets another element of Pavement; their charisma and fun. “Summer Babe” is a joyous song to listen to, which would translate throughout the band’s catalog, even finding fun in slow-burners like “Here” and “Newark Wilder.” The beauty of Slantedand the rest of Pavement’s discography is the amazing gift to underhand hooks, instead of overplaying obvious melodies, which made them all that more defining.

Though Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain relinquished some of Slanted’s edginess and punk ideals, it stands as the co-masterpiece by being the catchiest, most ambitious album in the canon. Malkmus fires away at the hooks on Crooked Rain, even more so than what already seemed packed to the gills on Slanted. As Pavement cleaned up the sound a little, Malkmus had even more room to unleash his quirky melodies. The guitars again shine as Malkmus’ duet partner, cultivating melodies from the angular to the arpeggio. The album can also be admired as an artistic achievement beyond its obvious musical merits. Emerging from the acclaim of Slanted, the band evolved from their predecessor and somehow managed to come up with an album every bit as good as the first. Pavement took the fear of the sophomore slump and punched it in the face.

And now the polarizing link in the chain that strengthens Pavement’s legacy all the more. Initially met with disappointment, Wowee Zowee has been elevated to a classic and applauded for its audacity. Pavement chose to revisit and augment elements from their previous two albums. They took the punk stylings from “Fame Throwa” and “Conduit for Sale!” and elevated them to a fever pitch with songs like “Serpentine Pad” and “Flux = Rad.” They took the alt-country elements from “Range Life” and turned them into several songs such as “Father to a Sister of Thought” and “Pueblo.” And they also harkened back to mid-tempo gems like “Newark Wilder,” “In the Mouth of a Desert,” and “Zurich is Stained” with songs like “Grounded,” “Motion Suggests” and “We Dance.” It became a ‘melting pot’ album that had a little something for everybody and also contained memorable guitar riffs and melodies on its own accord. In essence, by reaching back and rekindling all of Pavement, they were able to make a singular album that helped cement their greatness.

After Pavement went all over the map with 1995’s Wowee Zowee, they came back two years later with their most cohesive, clean-cut album. Brighten the Corners was no doubt full of melody from start-to-finish. Some of the eclecticism is missed that helped fuel the first three albums, but the songs remained great. It seems as though fans take Brighten the Corners for granted, but some of Malkmus’ most memorable lyrics are contained on Corners, (the remark about Geddy Lee, putting a spy cam in a sorority, the title of the article). Fans went just as wild about “Stereo” and “Shady Lane” as anything the band had ever played. Brighten is one of the albums fans don’t realize they love until they play it and remember how awesome and fun those songs still were.

1999’s Terror Twilight slipped in a few less melodies in favor of a little more jamming. Most of the songs still come off with great results, but the start-to-finish prowess gets a little lost in the mix. And when you look at Terror Twilight, if that’s a band’s least accomplished album, easily one of the best of 1999, that’s definitely saying something.

Admittedly, the band probably picked a good time to call it quits. Terror Twilight was very good by many band’s standards, but was easily a few shades below the brilliance of the initial two albums. Malkmus was flirting pretty heavily with becoming a guitar savant, which was a huge irony in the twilight of Pavement. The guitars, next to Malkmus, were easily the biggest draw about Pavement. It wasn’t for their jams or solos, however, but for their melodic context. If there was a 2001 Pavement album, it was likely going to be a jam-fest, continuing to get away from their off-centeredness and further into convention. Leaving when they did, they launched a decade-long crave for a reunion, and last year, when the announcement was improbably made that they were reuniting, all people could think was how awesome it was.

This reunion is probably temporary and unyielding to any new material. To wit, The Pixies keep playing around with the idea of recording a new album, and as of now, they plan to record sometime this year. Dinosaur Jr. released an album ten years after their breakup and actually revived a stagnant career. But for whatever reason, this just feels like it won’t stick and honestly that’s probably for the best. It’s hard to envision the band reigniting the old creative flames and serving up another Slanted and Enchanted. Anything less than great will seem like a disappointment, and this band shouldn’t risk a black mark on their stellar career. The reunion shows allow for people to stir their old feelings and passion for a band who impacted so many lives.

Throughout the 90s, they were able to thrive on not being the typical rock band, and when I look back on the best bands of the past couple of decades, there was always something atypical about them. I needed something more than just great songs because I know plenty of bands with great songs. With Radiohead or Modest Mouse, I could reflect on not only the quality of their songs but also the flood of imagery and emotion with which they played. Pavement not taking themselves entirely serious seemed starkly contrasted the existential seriousness of Radiohead, and as such, I could tell you I loved Pavement, but unlike others, I couldn’t tell you why. However, I finally learned that I was going about my comparisons in the wrong way. It wasn’t about how emotional they were or how serious they were being. It was how well they stood out. While they were burning through a song that was very tongue in cheek, it was the long-haired blonde fan’s reaction that allowed me to understand. In the end, no band could match their charisma or their unique sense of melody. Because of how identifiable they were, they can sing about hair cuts or two states or stereos and still make a grown man feel something overwhelming sweep him away.