The opening act at Akasaka Blitz on Aug. 24 was an earnest Danish group called Thau, who offered a thumping and searing sound reminiscent of the Meat Puppets. The audience awarded their 20-minute set with a warm and noisy ovation, prompting effusive gratitude from the band's drummer, who mentioned what an honor it was "to play in front of the mighty Pavement."
Pavement is a fine band, but "mighty"? It sounds like something a '70s promoter would yell while introducing Emerson Lake & Palmer or Jethro Tull. I could imagine the members of Pavement, if in fact they were listening at all, tittering derisively at the compliment.
Having convinced major labels not to call any more, Pavement are now comfortably ensconced in a snug indie cocoon that they inhabit all by themselves. At one time hailed as the next big thing, the group has turned into something less dramatic but much more interesting: an eternal underground band whose influence has been immediate and pervasive (especially, at the moment, in England).