This review covers the indie rock track Pavement – Cut Your Hair.
This track was released in 1994 on the album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.
The track starts with non-lyrical vocals, a drum kit, and guitars. From there, the vocals take the track into a verse. This section is capped off with more non-lyrical vocals.
After that, the vocals take the track into the next verse. An awkward guitar element comes in for a moment. This section is capped off with more non-lyrical vocals. An instrumental section follows. A guitar solo then follows after that.
From there, the vocals take the track into the next verse, occasionally screaming at random. At the end, the vocals go into another non-lyrical section. After that, the guitars and drum kit lead the track out.
This is one of those tracks where I listen to and react by saying, “I don’t get the point of this one.”
For one, this track doesn’t seem to have any real lyrical structure. At best, it’s a series of verses and that’s it. I wouldn’t have a problem with this is if sounded great, but it really doesn’t.
The non-lyrical sections were pretty amateurish sounding to me. They really add no value to the overall track.
Another problem with this track is the section where there is random screaming. All it does is serve to irritate the listener at best. If I had any good will towards this track up to that point, it was completely wiped out.
There aren’t a whole lot of positives for this track, but, believe it or not, there is. The lyrical portions, excluding the last verse, do sound pretty decent. It’s nothing huge, but it’s not bad.
Some of the guitar work also sounds decent enough. Again, nothing big, but it isn’t terrible either.
Overall, this is one of those tracks to avoid. It has random yelling at the end and the non-lyrical vocal sections sound ridiculous. The lyrical structure is pretty bad. While some of the vocals and guitar work isn’t bad, it’s nowhere near enough to save this particular track. A track to skip.
Score
4/10
Drew Wilson on Twitter: @icecube85 and Facebook.
