In the angst-ridden, flannel-clad bastion of the music world in the early nineties, there was one band for me that rose above the gloom-filled wails emanating from the Pacific Northwest, and that was Pavement. There wasn't anger or despair within the music of the Stockton, California quintet, in fact it was tough to pinpoint what any of their songs were truly about. Pavement's music was lovably lackadaisical and amusingly ambiguous, while also being simple enough that any college stoner on the couch thought they could write songs like that, myself included. We couldn't, of course-no one else could. The lyrics of frontman Stephen Malkmus led the listener down a labyrinthine alley of oil-wells, skateboards, cheap seats and crystal icepicks, while the music formed stalwart anti-anthems that were affecting despite themselves. You wondered if they cared about their music at all, but then loved them even more for thinking that they didn't. It was all a big ruse, anyway, for the band cared deeply about each of their five full-length records, and poured their hearts, however hidden, into each of their songs. And now, with the release of their first ever retrospective, Quarantine The Past, their brilliance is clearly illuminated for fans both new and old, on a career spanning disc that gathers together a stellar batch of gems that deserve to be both celebrated and rediscovered.Just like the career of the band, the running order on Quarantine lacks any coherent rhyme or reason, bouncing around freely from album to album without any care for chronological order or continuity. But it works anyway, simply by the strength of the songs alone. 'Gold Soundz' kicks things off, and if any tune deserved to be revered by a wider audience during the stormy rock landscape of the 90's, it was this twangy slacker spiritual. Pavement fans took a vow with Malkmus to "keep my address to yourself 'cause we need secrets," and indeed loving the band in the early days felt like a secret that was passed around among those in the know. Whenever the band came through town, I was always shocked with the turnout at their shows; how excited I was that there were other people that loved the band as I did, and we bonded easily over our shared infatuation.This was before the buzz of the blogosphere would propel a band to the national spotlight whether they are ready for it or not, and other than a slight ripple made by 'Cut Your Hair' (which seems even sillier now than it did at the time), Pavement never really reached the wider audience that their music deserved. And to be honest, that was just fine by their fans, whose intense affection towards the band and their music more than made up for any lack of a national spotlight. The right people treasured Pavement, it seemed, and that was what mattered. That idea is clearly hinted at on the blissed-out pulse of 'Stereo,' which pointed out the important distinction between your music being on the radio versus the much more personal idea of being heard on someone's stereo. In the end, Pavement were a stereo band, and never much of a radio one, and they and their fans were satisfied with that.But the songs were of course the key to everything, and for the most part the best of those slanted psalms are present on Quarantine, with enough surprises along the way to remind even the biggest fan of the band's wild and unhinged range. But for those that wore out their vinyl in college like I did, it's a bit jarring to hear 'Range Life' follow 'Summer Babe' instead of the familiar strains of 'Trigger Cut.' Or the fact that Wowee Zowee and Terror Twilight are noticeably underrepresented, with just 'Fight This Generation' and 'Grounded' from Zowee, and sadly only 'Spit On A Stranger' representing the incredibly underrated Twilight. But these are minor quibbles, for if this Best Of gets the attention of any new listeners, they should unquestionably go back and revisit all of Pavement's fine albums.I distinctly remember the first time I heard 'Summer Babe,' and I hope that new fans will become as hooked as I was by not only that song, but by the Pavement mystique as well. There wasn't anything tangible that you really knew about the band other than their music. Their names were inscrutable, with S.M. and Spiral Stairs seemingly leading the way, whoever they were (there weren't any pictures of the band in the liner notes until later), and when combined with their hilariously mish-mashed collage-like album covers, there just wasn't much to glean from the records other than the songs themselves, which only added to their beauty. No backstories, no mythmaking (that would come later, as well), it was just music, and when you finally got to see the actual musicians performing these songs you held so dear, well, that was a truck-sized heaven.These songs are as much about style (of which Malkmus has "miles and miles") as substance, with the band giving off the vibe that they weren't trying all that hard while they clandestinely captured your heart. The lyrics, as inscrutable as they are, captured a wide-range of emotions and coming-of-age concerns, with the unfulfilled heartbreak of 'Here' juxtaposed with the snot-nosed superiority of 'Box Elder.' And that's the beauty of growing up with a band, they capture the struggles and successes of getting older, providing a soundtrack to your life as if they knew you personally. So give in and grow up with Pavement, or at least go back to those gold soundz, and try and recapture what it was like when the rain was indeed crooked and the corners were always bright.