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Thursday, October 14, 2004
The Pixies play the Fox
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Dear unborn grandkids,
I saw the Pixies Wednesday night. They’re the ones you’ll be reading about in your rock history classes, the magnificently thrashy quartet that influenced Nirvana in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, back when nobody but Kurt Cobain was listening, then broke up acrimoniously and seemed unlikely ever to reunite.
A lot of people discovered the Pixies since then, though, and their show Wednesday (the first of two at this huge place called the Fox Theatre) sold out months ago. It was the most-anticipated rock show of the year, and I knew you’d want to hear about it.
Going into the night, I was expecting a glorious volcanic eruption from a long-dormant mountain of rock.
You know what it felt like instead? It felt like walking downstairs on Christmas Eve and seeing Santa Claus delivering your presents. In a way, it was amazing. But when you spend the last decade imagining what that moment would be like, it’s jarring to discover that he’s just a tubby guy with crumbs in his beard.
The band only seemed into the show about half the time. The frontman, Frank Black, is known for singing in this weird mix of English and Spanish and animal barks, but he somehow found a way to make all that howling seem conventional. Hustling through the setlist and barely acknowledging the audience, he acted like a human jukebox up there, cranking out the old favorites just because somebody dropped a quarter in the slot. In his defense, screaming about sliced eyeballs must get tiresome after all these years, but it was frustrating waiting for him to scream like he meant it.
The guitarist, Joey Santiago, is one of the most underrated and influential players of his generation — he plays guitar like bricks play windows — but he often looked bored, as though he was reading aloud in front of a class.
Fortunately, the rhythm section (singer/bassist Kim Deal and drummer David Lovering) seemed like they were happy to be there. Deal sang hard and played well, and she appeared most appreciative of the rapturous audience; several times she smiled like a child. Lovering’s drumming was the most urgent music on stage, pushing his bandmates along.
At times, all four Pixies clicked. And when they did, they were glorious.
“Vamos� was a shredder, with Santiago (as if awaking from a trance) unexpectedly setting his guitar on a stand so he could play a meltdown solo using his effects pedal and a drumstick. And Black seemed to be in the moment screaming “IT’S EDUCATIONAL,� during the refrain of “U-Mass.�
Usually, the band’s lesser-known material (the above two songs, plus “Hey� and “Nimrod’s Son�) sounded best. (One exception, the popular tune “Gigantic,� sounded great because Deal’s vocals are so adorable, and because the melody is invincibly catchy.)
As for the Pixies’ classics, well, their two versions of “Wave of Mutilation� were flatter than roadkill, and the Beatlesque “Here Comes Your Man� fared no better.
At the show’s peaks, I caught myself playing air guitar and slapping some dude five. In its valleys, I caught myself yawning and writing the word “professional� in my notebook. That’s about the last adjective I ever expected to associate with this band.
In the Fox lobby, you could buy tour T-shirts with “Pixies Sellout� on the back, a wry sentiment consistent with the gallows humor in Black’s writing. I happen to think the Pixies deserve every penny they’re getting on this reunion tour — I consider the money they’re making as back-pay, compensation for all the bands that got rich in the last 10 years ripping them off — but I do wish the musicians still loved their material as much as they once did. I wish there were a little more magic left.
My parents, your great-grandparents, always told me to stay in bed on Christmas Eve, never to come downstairs. Now I know why.
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