or better or worse, we here at Stylus, in all of our autocratic consumer-crit greed, are slaves to timeliness. A record over six months old is often discarded, deemed too old for publication, a relic in the internet age. That's why each week at Stylus, one writer takes a look at an album with the benefit of time. Whether it has been unjustly ignored, unfairly lauded, or misunderstood in some fundamental way, we aim with On Second Thought to provide a fresh look at albums that need it.

The EP. Be it a pandering stopgap between albums, or a venue for a band’s weird experiments, it’s an art form that’s as abused as much as it is maligned. More often than not, it merely becomes a wasteland of unwanted tracks, such as alternate mixes, demos, live versions, and covers, and is quickly forgotten, cherished only by completeists. But sometimes, the EP elevates above such useless claptrap and becomes a truly respectable piece of music. Perhaps said wayward experiments break new ground for a group that you thought you had pinned (a la Cursive’s Burst and Bloom), or maybe it gives a band time to grow without sacrificing the length and implications of a full album (Les Savy Fav’s equally impressive Rome [Written Upside Down]). Either way, by expending less playing time (allowing for a reduced number of inferior tracks), it almost seems to become the very definition of aural perfection, not to mention consumer sense. Like a bite-sized candy bar, it gives the satisfaction of the real thing in a less filling manner. In the case of Pavement’s Watery, Domestic, released between their mind-blowing debut Slanted and Enchanted, and their career-defining masterpiece Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, everything just clicked.

From the chaotic squall that opens “Texas Never Whispers” to the leisurely strumming that concludes “Shoot The Singer”, the four songs contained on Watery, Domestic are absolutely flawless. Stunning in their simplicity, they pull you into an undeniable bliss that you won’t soon want to escape from. It’s here that Pavement morphed from a dissonant Fall tribute band to a head-on rock n’ roll powerhouse (possibly attributable to the additions of bassist Mark Ibold and auxiliary percussionist/screamer/gambler Bob Nastanovich), and it shows. “Frontwards” melds Malkmus’ sweetest lyrics yet to some of his most carefree guitar playing, while “Lions (Linden)” serenades a cross-town football rivalry to the strains of Gary Young’s rolling drum fills and Ibold’s dominating bass, all in under five minutes.

With only 11 minutes of music on your hands, it’s hard to go wrong, and here, Pavement doesn’t. Absolutely essential.