The latest Pixies album is very good, the best – albeit the only good one – since the 2004 reunion. But that’s not enough to be as good as the Pixies were before their breakup. In none of the album’s 42 minutes and 4 seconds does “Doggerel” sound like the Pixies when they enchanted the world from 1987 to 1991: children’s tunes to lyrics dealing with self-mutilation, satanism and masturbation, everything you could imagine cannot believe what one would never ask the parents about. “Doggerel” doesn’t sound like Black Francis, but rather like Frank Black, who would like to be Robbie Robertson, or even better Neil Young, and is now blissfully whistling his tune to “Pagan Man”.
Pixies and whistles? Yes, that’s the post-Black Francis 2023 dictatorship (he did whistle in 1989’s Bailey’s Walk, but that was more of a threatening whistle). Because he had no success as a solo musician with blues and country, his old troupe now has to sing the songs he would otherwise play with his hired musicians, whom he called “The Catholics” but which lacked the trademark band name. Doesn’t Black Francis notice it himself? About a third of the approximately 36 songs at each Pixies concert are reserved for current album material: And although they get friendly applause, they are called “Haunted House” and are not “Debaser”, they are called “Nomatterday” and aren’t “Bone Machine”. Now one can ask oneself whether bands don’t have the right to confidently promote their current album in particular – but to present nine new songs in a row that the Pixies are guaranteed not to play again on the next tour – who is helped by that ? “The Lord has come back today”? You can do it, but the mosh pit dissolves and everyone goes to get beer.
The band dynamics also look very unhealthy on stage. The Dictator on the mic has his favorite – bassist Paz Lechantin, the baby who he keeps beaming at because she’s the newcomer after he ditched Kim Deal, another one-time crowd pleaser, from the band many years ago; and he’s got a highly gifted lead guitarist in Joey Santiago – in a league with Andy Summers, The Edge and Johnny Marr – whom he punishes through ignorance because he’s still not quite up to par since his rehab a few years ago. And it’s also true: Santiago always squanders a few numbers, like that evening in the Columbiahalle, “Ana” for example, also “Blown Away”, which the Pixies have often played in Berlin because it was recorded in 1990 in the Hansa Studios became. In 1990, no one noticed, just as little as Francis’ attempted historiographical announcement about this song is honored tonight. Whenever he wants to say something important, “West Berlin”, “The Wall”, he mumbles it away.
Speaking of “Ana” and “Blown Away”: Both are from the third Pixies album “Bossanova”, and the question may be asked why Black Francis believes that his fans of this work – and the no less underestimated fourth album “Trompe Le Monde” – since the reunion in 2004 they have only ever wanted to hear the minimal program: “Planet of Sound”, “Cecilia Ann”, an instrumental that should be intoned at the beginning, not in the middle of the set – and that’s mostly it. No “Hang Wire,” “Lovely Day,” “The Happening,” or “The Navajo-Know”—all last performed in 1992 and long overdue. Kim Deal didn’t like these songs, so as long as Deal was part of the reunion they were ignored. But Kim Deal is long gone. The way for the Secret Classics would be free.
Back to 1987. For five years, the Pixies were perhaps the most breathtaking band in the world. They couldn’t be put into words. David Bowie was perhaps quite right, he called them the “Psychedelic Beatles”. One of their myriad strengths was finding a quick end to each song. Stop when it’s most beautiful. Their repertoire includes perfect pop songs that only last 1 minute and 18 seconds, like “Allison”, and bursts of aggression that make any Wacken song pale, like “Tame”, which lasts 2 minutes and 2 seconds.
What’s good doesn’t have to be lengthened just because someone may have said a hit has to be at least 2:30 long. And this is exactly where Black Francis has been making a big mistake for many years. He stretches his classics. Whether “Nimrod’s Son” or “Mr. Grieves” – the former, shocking eruptions have become elegiac distractions. Perhaps Black Francis has recognized that he has created evergreens. Pieces for the Great American Indie Songbook that he doesn’t want to let go of so quickly and lets circulate for minutes. Sadly, once the Pixies’ most prominent fans, U2 do too – on the forthcoming Songs of Surrender they stretch, chew, taste their songs and rob them of their magic in the process. “Re-imagening” has never worked, that’s a big bullshit.
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