David Pajo has quietly built one of the most impressive résumés in indie music, beginning in the early '90s. You may not have heard his name, but he has been a pivotal member of a number of bands invaluable to the evolution of modern rock. One of his earliest and most important projects was with the seminal Slint, whose 1991 album Spiderland single-handedly created the quiet-loud-quiet structure for the post-rock genre.
After Slint's breakup, Pajo briefly dipped his toes in a large number of important groups, including the renowned Tortoise, (appearing on their two best releases, Millions Now Living Will Never Die and TNT) The For Carnation, King Kong, Stereolab, Royal Trux, Billy Corgan's Zwan and still others.
Beginning in the late '90s, though, Pajo began to release solo material. His first albums wore the moniker Aerial M, which later became Papa M. In June of 2005 he released his first work bearing his own name, simply titled Pajo. This album was characterized by straightforward, simply and warmly played guitar music with a few effects added from Pajo's own computer. Unlike most of his past music, the songs were extremely tight and accessible (in no way a bad thing).
The year 2006's 1968 (haha) is in many ways the same. Pajo's songs have a very personal feel to them. Though the production has been upped a small amount -- adding bass and drums to a number of tracks and even a string arrangement on one song -- the music is still very much the work of a single artist. Pajo also has a fairly impressive voice for one who has spent most of his career solely as a guitarist. He sings in a gentle manner that emphasizes the private nature of his compositions.
The album opens with "Who's That Knocking?" in which Pajo runs through a series of chant-like questions (surprisingly including the issue of "Who's that knocking on the door?"). The repetition of the questions tiptoes close to becoming annoying, but Pajo saves it with the swinging chorus that creates a beautiful link from question to question.
After this, the album goes through a series of incredibly catchy acoustic and soft electric guitar-based songs, each with moments of loveliness.
The third song, "We Get Along, Mostly," is the only track with any sign of heavy electric guitars. "Prescription Blues" is one of the strongest highlights, along with the acoustic/techno-beep fusion of "Wrong Turn." Another high point of the album is the poppy cover of Gilbert Bécaud's "Let It Be Me." The closer, "I've Just Restored My Will To Live Again," is an acoustic piece recorded in fuzzy lo-fi that gives it a fitting ghostly feel.
After all he's accomplished, Pajo has succeeded yet again. His solo work lacks the sheer innovation of Slint and the standard-setting aspect of Tortoise, but 1968 remains a solid, gorgeous body of music. It's actually refreshing to find that he isn't simply sticking to what he is known for. Fans of his previous bands will certainly enjoy his new music, but those who found Slint or The For Carnation too dense or inaccessible will be happy to hear how appealing these songs can be.
Bravo Pajo, keep 'em coming.