Concert Review

The Second Coming of Pixies

Alternative rock legends The Pixies return to touring, giving fans what may be their last look at this genre-defining band

By Mitchell Peters

What year was it when Kennedy got shot? I can’t remember, but if you ask your parents where they were when they received the devastating news, there is no doubt they will recollect the moment with precise accuracy. I had a similar experience last September when I found out that alternative rock gods (and goddess) the Pixies announced they’d be reuniting for a tour to promote their upcoming best-of collection, “Wave of Mutilation: The Best of the Pixies.” Every indie/alternative rock junkies’ prayers had been answered – the Pixies were back!

They announced a handful of shows they’d be playing in small venues around the United States (tickets on eBay were going for as much as $400) that would be followed by a full European tour. Tears were falling and tickets were selling out within minutes. It was almost as if the world of rock n’ roll was seeing the second coming of Christ – Pixies style. It’s a story I’ll be sure to tell my grandchildren 50 years from now when I’m lecturing them on the good ol’ days of ‘90s alternative rock.

In case there are any lost souls out there who don’t know who the Pixies are, or what role they’ve played in the development of some of the greatest bands (Nirvana for Chrissakes!) of today and the early ‘90s, here’s a quick little lesson in history (you don’t have to take notes).

In the mid to late ‘80s there was a guy named Charles Thompson (a.k.a. Black Francis and Frank Black) who was going to school at the University of Massachusetts and majoring in anthropology. He had a roommate named Joey Santiago. Halfway through his studies at Boston, Thompson moved to Puerto Rico for six months. After his return to the United States he felt it was time to start a band. He persuaded Santiago to join him and the two placed an ad in a music paper for a bass player who liked “Husker Du” and “Peter, Paul and Mary.” By the fate of God came the answer – the charming Kim Deal (the Breeders). After recruiting drummer David Lovering and flipping through a dictionary to pick a band name, the circle was now complete. Music history was about to be made.

In a career that spanned about six years, the Pixies defined a genre of music. During that time they recorded one EP and four full-length records that were years ahead of their time. With a unique sound that can be described as a combination of beautifully harmonized male/female vocals, melodic guitar hooks, strangely enigmatic lyrics, and effortless lead guitar parts, the Pixies were four musical geniuses that set the standard for every band that followed. Unscathed and untouched, they were the closest thing to musical perfection.

In 1992, Black decided it was time to call it quits. After an interview announcing the breakup, he faxed his ex-band mates and told them the news. After their bitter split, each member of the Pixies moved on to other musical projects. Some were successful and others weren’t. Black went on to form “Frank Black & the Catholics,” while Deal went on to form the alternative rock band “The Breeders.” Santiago and Lovering formed the “Martinis” in 1995, which didn’t receive much notice. That’s the Pixies in a nutshell. Any questions?

OK, now that we’re all on the same page, back to my story. . .

After the initial shock of finding out the Pixies were getting back together, my next objective was to find a way to get tickets to see them. By the time I found out they were playing at the Freeborn Hall in Davis, Calif., it was too late. The modestly priced tickets sold out within 10 minutes. What made the matter worse was that a friend of mine bought some online and only bought two when we could’ve bought six! I didn’t let it stop me. I searched on eBay for the next month and finally ended up dishing out almost $300 for two tickets. I couldn’t possibly pass up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It was the Pixies, the greatest rock band in the world!

After I bought my tickets through someone named “LUVBUZZ,” I started to get a little paranoid they might be fakes (can you really trust eBay?). I got them in the mail, however, and relief came over me – they were the “Real McCoy.” Excitement ran through my blood. The anticipation became almost unbearable. I didn’t want to get myself too pumped up though; when I do that, I set myself up for disappointment. I didn’t listen to any of their records during the weeks that led up to the concert. I guess it was a way of distancing myself from the music so it would be a treat to hear it live.

The day had finally arrived, Thursday April 29, 2004. The tickets said 8 p.m.; we got there at 8:30. I was nervous, anxious and excited. On the way to Davis, my friends and I tried to guess who would open up for them. I had three theories: A really awesome band like The Strokes would set the mood; a really horrible band would play, or nobody would open at all. Well, we missed the opening act, but rumor had it that they really sucked. I didn’t really care; I was ready to enter the mysterious world of the Pixies.

I remember three things upon entering the venue. 1) I was glad to be out of Fresno for a few hours; 2) there were spiraling staircases that led up to bathrooms on each side of me; and 3) everyone there seemed to be wearing a T-shirt with a band name on it. It was a little overwhelming. I also remember thinking, “wow, I bet the Pixies are making a s#@*load of money off of this tour.” There was a ton of merchandise and live CDs of the concert fans could buy for $25 dollars after the show. It’s my guess, and the guess of many others that money was the sole purpose of the reunion. Can you blame them?

The lights went down and the cheering began – the Pixies were finally onstage. The drum beat began, and Lovering casually laid down the opening beat to “Bone Machine” from their 1988 album “Surfer Rosa.” When Black and Deal intertwined their amazing voices forming the words, “your bone’s got a little machine,” chills dispersed throughout my body. Things only got better from there.

As I watched the four of them performing in front of me, disbelief was starting to set it. It was hard to compute the fact I was actually seeing a band that sits a king in the hierarchy of modern-day music. Fog lingered on the stage, while lights from above angelically lit the band as they performed classics like “Wave of Mutilation, “Gouge Away,” “Where is My Mind” (the song played at the end of “Fight Club”) and “Here Comes Your Man.”

Besides the fact that they belted out 24 songs in about 90 minutes, the best thing about seeing the Pixies live was the fact that their performance was nearly flawless. Deal coolly played her bass while smoking several cigarettes, while Santiago stood alone off the side playing his Les Paul effortlessly. Black stood as the dominant figure in the center. His overweight body sweating profusely as he struggled to keep his pants around his waist. I was surprised to see that all four looked like normal people. It was a refreshing sight in a world full of trendy looking rock stars. It didn’t get much fancier than button down shirts and jeans.

While standing in a crowd of no more than 1,800 people, I humbly watched the Pixies end their set with a permanent smile plastered on my face. My life was now complete. A week later, I am still sitting here listening to the concert (my friends forked out the $25 bucks) through my headphones. With the future of the band in question, my only hope is that they end their career with this tour and don’t record a new album. The thought of a new record is exciting, yes, but why take a chance ruining a good thing?