quote:

---

The Return of the Pixies
By Saby Reyes-Kulkarni

Though they are without a doubt one of the most storied, cherished, and critically acclaimed underground rock acts of all time, no one could ever have predicted the level of enthusiasm that's met the Pixies since their reunion shows began this past spring. Tickets have been selling out within minutes--literally, and in some cases for multiple-night engagements. In line with a growing trend, soundboard recordings (high-quality bootlegs, essentially) of every performance have been officially released in limited quantities. To say the recordings have sold like hot cakes is, honestly, an understatement.
Perhaps it is apt to acknowledge the Pixies as an underground band more by default. During their late '80s/early '90s heyday, they enjoyed much wider popularity in Europe than they ever did back home, where their following was loyal but small. Just as they are now, they made it quite clear back then that they had no particular aversion to success. They even made overtures toward accessibility on the latter of their five main releases, only they were never fully capable of restraining their inventiveness enough to calculate or contrive their appeal. One could easily argue that a strong pop undercurrent was the foundation of their sound to begin with, and that the band's migration towards polish followed a natural curve.

Nonetheless, when they disbanded in 1991, ironically-- almost fatefully--just as Nirvana was about to score a hit so massive that it would permanently re-frame the way people viewed music history (if not music history itself) with a song that blatantly copped the Pixies, their status as a cult act seemed cast in stone. So the rabid, almost desperate response to this year's run of shows seems mysterious. When you stop and think about it, it's astounding that the runaway success of the concert season would be this band. Surely, if you informally surveyed record store clerks, they'd probably tell you how they think Pixies sales have quietly accumulated over the years. But nothing really accounts for the swell in their fanbase.

If anything, it seemed that the opposite would have happened, judging from last year's return of Jane's Addiction, another band of mythic status (that actually broke into the mainstream) and the lukewarm reception of the re-activated Lollapalooza festival. But there are some important differences between the two reunions. In their prime, both bands possessed the type of magic chemistry which by its nature dictates that no band member, not even one, can be replaced. While Jane's Addiction came back without under-credited bassist (and creative contributor) Eric Avery, the Pixies return sees their original (and only) line-up of Joey Santiago, Kim Deal, Frank Black, and David Lovering intact.

Jane's Addiction had also done two previous reunion tours, and billed last year as their actual re-entry into the music world. They also put out a new album that doesn't begin to do justice to their legacy. The Pixies have taken a far more pragmatic, day-to-day stance. No one knows how long they'll stick around this time, and they've been strongly emphasizing that no album is planned, at least not for the time being. One of the reasons they've given is that they don't want to fall short of the standard set by their existing catalog. (Black, though, has publicly expressed his desire to have Tom Waits produce if the Pixies change their minds.)

Financial Need?

Right now, the "time being" consists of a rather intensive run of shows which extends into December, with more shows being scheduled for next year. Deal, Lovering, Santiago, and Black have all acknowledged to varying degrees that financial need played at least a partial role in their decision to get back together (although, to be fair, one can also conclude from their comments that the time just felt right), yet audiences don't seem to be questioning the band's sincerity.

So how are the Pixies managing to do what Lovering has openly referred to as a "hits tour" without risking nostalgia or, worse, compromising the sanctity of their work? (Black even told The New York Times that they "played these songs to death" in the past.) Well, for starters, "hits" is not entirely accurate, at least not in the U.S. Next, there's the strength of the material itself, which inherently radiates iconoclasm, so it's arguably hard to sully. And then there's the onstage intensity level of the performances. Even on the take-it-for-what-it-is official live recording of their first show together in almost 12 years, Minneapolis in April, the energy swells right out of your speakers, with few lulls over the course of two dozen-plus songs.

On the other hand, the recording also highlights the band's pretense-free attitude. They seem to just get up there and bang-bang-bang through the songs, without self-consciousness. What's even more striking is that they sound like they're having a good time. This balanced combination of spirits underscores how the Pixies have always walked a high-wire in the way they're not showy about not being showy. Compared to, say, Pavement and Weezer (both cited as having inherited their anti-showman stance from the Pixies), their stage demeanor seems way more graceful. It's hard to deny that Pavement turned lack of posturing into a cynical pose, and that Weezer's stage demeanor is just a pitiful attempt at compensating for a severe lack of charisma and energy.

Loud 'n' Heavy

But the Pixies, from the beginning, straddled many high wires at once. They were heavy and loud but not necessarily aggressive. And if they were aggressive and angry (which is how Black describes their music), they weren't blunt, forceful or one-dimensional about it. In fact, it was always difficult to know exactly where Black, the principle songwriter and lyricist, was coming from, and that undoubtedly forms part of the basis for the Pixies' mystique and why they continue to strike such a deep chord with certain listeners. On the other hand, Black offered strong imagery about aliens, incest, suggested violence, and all manner of quirk. Certainly, he did so with a surrealist's hand (and lots of cursing!), making reference to inaccessible things like the eye-slicing opening sequence of the Luis Bunuel-Salvador Dali short film, Un Chien Andalou, but again, he strikes a fine balance. The Pixies' music was intended to be fun, but a range of feeling is suggested enough to provide an underlying urgency. Black's lyrics are vague but not necessarily detached, remote but not vapid, and literary but un-pretentious.

Then there's the music itself, which plays perfectly into these co-relating tonal characteristics. The band had an unparalleled knack for building intensity by shifting to another section of the song, usually changing key, with a firm command of nuance. Thus, they were able to invoke drama without being dramatic. Santiago's groundbreaking, squalling guitar style helped make the band's heaviness sound like a rising dust storm of noise, rather than the flexing of sheer adamantine muscularity. Black composed by "lopping off"--cutting sections short of the time that felt natural to sustain them, so movements within songs feel compacted and rhythmically warped. This approach, he has said repeatedly over the years, allows a song to compel even if the fundamental elements are familiar. The Pixies pulled it off with flair. Many, many (too many) bands make segmented music, i.e. write songs that change quickly from part to part. (In fact, this style is a hallmark of some forms of classical music.) When reviewing the Pixies' work, even from the beginning, their ability to hold a certain lick or phrase just long enough but move on from it just quickly enough, so that the change feels fresh, is unmistakable.

It seems inevitable, then, that many of the Pixies' strengths would be carried on by more heavy-handed descendents. Because Kurt Cobain unabashedly (and without ill will) "ripped off" the Pixies (in his own words), hindsight has cast the Pixies as the engineers of so-called "soft-loud-soft" dynamics, which is rubbish. Nirvana, just as they did with the Melvins (who, like the Pixies, also enjoy "superstar" cult band status), constrained the Pixies' impressive range. Pixies music does not proceed in a binary, on/off, soft/loud fashion the way Nirvana's does. It is replete with gradience and texture.

At the risk of inflating it with too much importance, perhaps the Pixies' return presents an opportunity to question the way bands are myth-ified when they go down in history. With the best of intentions, the Pixies' legacy is put on a pedestal. They obviously influenced many, so it seems fair. Invariably, though, this mythification ends up constraining the parameters in which artists are remembered within catch phrases, which annotate their work in the grand scheme of things. The Pixies (and the Melvins, for that matter) deserve more than to be summed up as footnotes to Nirvana. Nirvana actually deserve more themselves. The Pixies are not, in fact, so-called "alternative" rock's flagship act. To crown them with such a lofty title is to limit them. The fact is, they defy classification, and their versatility translates to many things to many people.

In perhaps the mother (or at least the most famous) of all passive-aggressive band break-ups, Black never even informed the rest of his bandmates that he was breaking the Pixies up back in '91. He sent a fax to his manager. Right now, the band's outlook is bright, but strictly present-centered. No one knows if this current jaunt represents a bona fide return or a run down memory lane that just happens not to feel tired. If you managed to score a ticket, you're in for a rousing good time; get it while you can, and that's pretty much that. From the way they're talking these days, it seems the band wouldn't have it any other way.


The Pixies perform at the Milwaukee Theatre at 8 p.m. on Nov. 9.

---