“Drag + Blur,” the B-side on the Baltimore band’s forthcoming 7-inch, is a wry and catchy slice of indie rock laced generously with Pavement.

With opening chords that immediately conjure Weezer, the track floats into vocals that could have come straight from a Coconut Records demo. The band’s 24-year-old principle, Jack Stansbury, cites Silkworm and Stephen Malkmus and Co. as strong influences on the “Your Divorce” 7-inch (and adds that some circa-2000 hip-hop, including Missy Elliott and Juvenile, may have helped him form his musical identity, too).

After finishing college at the University of Maryland, College Park, Stansbury — a native of the Baltimore region — moved to Los Angeles. While on the West Coast he dabbled with some solo recordings under the Princess Reason name.

“L.A. was… kind of my misadventure,” says Stansbury. “I didn’t think I’d have one, but I did.”

That misadventure may have been what Stansbury needed. It brought him back to the D.C. area where, while working as a paralegal by day, he reconnected with an old friend who’s now his bandmate, Morgan Spaner. They met on MySpace in high school.

On the “Your Divorce” 7-inch — recorded and mixed by Chester Gwadza — Mike Allison joins Stansbury and Spaner to round out this iteration of Princess Reason. All three band members played equal roles in writing the music, a process that was as cathartic as it was productive. After working a day job, Stansbury says, “We get to go home, escape… we get together infrequently, but [we] all just kind of gel.”

Princess Reason’s unengineered approach suits the mood on “Drag + Blur.” Heavy-lidded and unenthused, the song shoots side-eye at a segment of Stansbury’s generation.

“This lifestyle’s totally worth it,” Stansbury croaks. “Drag through the week to blur through the end/Date a self-obsessed guy in an awful band.”

Who’s the target of that withering critique?

“The lyrics are just observations, I guess, on a particular set of youngish people,” Stansbury says, “who sort of grind through every week and waste every weekend.”

Listen to “Drag + Blur,” below:

“Cut Your Hair” does not appear on The Secret History, Vol. 1. But its precursor, “Summer Babe,” the song that prefaced 1992’s epochal album Slanted And Enchanted does (in a “7” version”), and it’s as bracing as the day it came out: Over fizzy distortion and lopsided drumming, singer-guitarist Stephen Malkmus (then still identified as “S.M.”) croons longingly, surreally. But it’s the “Babe” B-sides, particularly the galloping “Baptist Blacktick,” that show just how evenly Pavement could split itself between post-punk experimentalism and pop abandon. Other studio rarities like “Sue Me Jack” and “Greenlander” highlight another tension lurking in Pavement’s grainy, lo-fi approach: shambolic jams versus barbed anthems, with neither side ever fully winning.

When it comes to History‘s radio sessions — recorded for the BBC’s legendary John Peel — Pavement doesn’t skimp. Stand-outs include “Ed Ames,” which, despite sharing a name with an easy-listening crooner, finds Malkmus faithfully channeling Lou Reed’s deadpan storytelling; “Circa 1762,” featuring sporting a chorus wherein a collegial, back-and-forth vocal lives beside thorny riffage and bleary guitar solos; and “Kentucky Cocktail,” openly flaunting a debt to the Pixies‘ “Where Is My Mind?,” its frantic static smeared over a rollicking bassline. History ends with a full live set recorded in 1992 at London’s Brixton Academy; fresh off a tour opening for Sonic Youth, Malkmus and crew explode on stage, equally mysterious and urgent, while infusing early “classics” like “Box Elder” and “Perfume V” with an erratic euphoria.

Riches abound on History, but one thing you won’t find are surprises. These songs have all been floating around for years, either on their original releases, as bonus reissue tracks, or as bootlegs. But bundling them has a purpose besides commerce: In a recent Pitchfork interview, Malkmus called History “the album that could have been between Slanted and Enchanted and Crooked Rain [on which ‘Cut Your Hair’ appears].” He’s right. There’s coherence to the chaos of these 30 misfit songs, each one a self-sabotaging gem. Strung together, they speak powerfully to the way Pavement celebrated song-craft while gnawing at its foundations. If the ’90s had turned out differently, Pavement could have been as popular as, say, Weezer. Instead, History declares they were always destined for something stranger.

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