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G-man
- FB Fan -
USA
4 Posts |
 Posted - 11/08/2004 : 15:23:41
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I'll just post the whole article and get it over with..good Q&A with FB, but it's pretty obvious Mr. Derogatis isn't a huge fan...
the link is www.suntimes.com/derogatis
The Pixies never hit the big time — until now
November 7, 2004
BY JIM DEROGATIS, POP MUSIC CRITIC
Running short on ideas, feuding incessantly and fed up with America's commercial indifference, alternative-rock pioneers the Pixies effectively broke up in late 1992, shortly after a wave of bands that they helped inspire climbed to the top of the pop charts. Now, 12 years later, the Boston-based quartet has reunited for a triumphant tour that brings the group to Chicago starting Saturday for five nights at the Aragon, four of them sold out and the fifth expected to -- an unprecedented move. "I've never seen anything like this," said Andy Cirzan, a talent buyer with local promoters Jam Productions. "The White Stripes played the Aragon two nights in a row and then came back a few months later for a third show. But no artist has ever played three consecutive shows at the Aragon, not to mention five."
Is the Pixies' amazing popularity circa 2004 evidence of how ubiquitous the group's influence has become on the modern-rock scene during its absence? More than the recent, short-lived Jane's Addiction reunion or the enduring popularity of Nirvana, is it the first real flowering of a wave of '90s alternative-rock nostalgia? Or is it just the hip ticket this fall that no genuine fan of inventive rock and no indie-rock poseur would dare to be without?
The answer is probably a little bit of all three.
The Pixies formed in 1986, the heyday of the college-rock scene that paved the way for the alternative explosion a few years later, in Boston, the home of more colleges than just about any other city in America. And they were always a bit too self-consciously clever and preciously pretentious for their own good, writing songs that referenced Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel, UFOs and strange sexual practices, and which sometimes lapsed into muddled Spanish.
California-born guitarist-vocalist Charles Michael Kitridge Thompson IV studied anthropology at the University of Massachusetts and spent several months traveling in Puerto Rico before reinventing himself as Black Francis and forming the band with his roommate, guitarist Joey Santiago.
The two famously placed an ad in an alternative weekly searching for a bassist who liked Husker Du as well as Peter, Paul & Mary, and they found Kim Deal, who went by the name Mrs. John Murphy on the first two albums in what was either a sarcastic commentary on our paternalistic society or a weird and inexplicable quirk (you could never tell with the Pixies). The group was completed by drummer David Lovering.
The Pixies made their recorded debut with the "Come on Pilgrim" EP in 1987, released by the too-cool-for-school British art-rock label 4AD, and that association as much as the music marked them as the hipsters' favorite hipsters. Over the next five years, they released four albums: "Surfer Rosa" (1988), "Doolittle" (1989), "Bossanova" (1990) and "Trompe Le Monde" (1991), by which point Deal was barely in the band, concentrating instead on her own group, the Breeders.
For my money, none of the Pixies' releases is a beginning-to-end masterpiece. While many critics hail their influence on what followed, I'd argue that some of their equally arty '80s peers -- including Husker Du from Minneapolis, Naked Raygun and Big Black from Chicago, Pussy Galore and Sonic Youth from New York and the Feelies from suburban New Jersey -- all produced richer, more groundbreaking, less pretentious and more consistent and enduring discographies.
Not that the Pixies' essential sonic formula was without its charms. The best songs -- "Here Comes Your Man," "Debaser," "Bone Machine," "Gigantic," "Where Is My Mind?" and "Monkey Gone to Heaven" (all well-represented on the 1997 "Death to the Pixies" compilation with one "greatest hits" disc and another live CD from a 1990 show) -- feature the winning combination of Lovering's propulsive rhythms, Santiago's mix of catchy surf licks and searing power chords, Thompson's occasionally witty, more often annoying Dadaist lyrics and the contrasting vocal approach of his harsh screaming and Deal's sweet harmonizing.
It's a great sound, but it certainly wasn't without its equals or its precedents, plundered from other bands of the indie era and punk precursors such as Pere Ubu. And hyperbolic claims aside, it was not the sole wellspring of Nirvana and other greats of the alternative era.
This isn't to say that it's not good to have the Pixies back, just that the band didn't reinvent the wheel, and it's unlikely to do so now, if the reunion survives this first lucrative tour and goes on to produce more music in the future. Slightly bemused though justifiably proud of all the hoopla, the band members would be the first to admit that -- and Thompson did when we spoke on Monday in the midst of the current tour.
Q. I wanted to start by asking you about "Frank Black Francis," the collection you just put out with one disc of solo acoustic demos, which precede the Pixies, and another of newly recorded and reworked Pixies songs. This is basically Pixies material, rendered without most of the Pixies, but are you distressed at all that your solo work will be overshadowed by the big news of the Pixies reunion? Or does it all play together?
A. It does play together, I suppose. It's not like a statement or something; it's a reworking of old songs with some other guys, and I let them have a lot of free reign, so it's not really like my new record -- I don't have a lot of attitude about it. I think it's interesting, and I am curious as to what the reaction is going to be. Who knows? If the reaction is really good, and people really like the thing and end up buying it, maybe I'll have a more precious attitude about it, but I guess I'm afraid to do that. I already feel slightly apologetic for it even existing, anyway.
Q. That leads to one of the million-dollar questions about this reunion: Your career has always been about moving forward -- you're not one of those artists who is obsessed with nostalgia -- and the danger of doing a Pixies reunion is that you're going to be living in the past. Was that a consideration for you?
A. Yeah. Or it would have been, if we were getting completely skewered out here on our reunion tour. But fortunately, there's always been a lot of goodwill toward the band, and that goodwill has been returned to us because, I suppose, we were "good Pixies" and we got back together like everybody wanted. So everyone has been nice -- even the reviewer in London didn't single me out as "the fat one."
Q. You mentioned being "good Pixies" with a tone of sneering disdain. Did the pressure through the years to reunite become tiresome?
A. No, not really. Pretty soon I adopted the attitude, "OK, that's sort of what gets me in the paper. Let's talk about my old band -- I've got a gig at 'Fuddy-Duddies' this weekend, so I'll do that to promote the show."
Q. The last time I saw the Pixies, in 1992, you were opening at the World Music Theatre in front of 30,000 generally indifferent U2 fans. It was weird for me, after seeing you play several times for 150 people a few years earlier. Now, you're coming to Chicago and playing five nights at the Aragon, with more than 20,000 tickets sold, and I have to say, that seems even stranger! How the heck did you guys become rock stars?
A. I guess it's like Dave Lovering likes to say: We're like a fine wine or whatever, and the Americans have finally decided that they want to have us. And that's fine.
Q. Does it feel vindicating in some ways?
A. I don't know if vindicating is the right word, because I've always tried to have a healthy attitude about it all. It's show business. You kind of just get what you get, and if you complain, you sound like a whiner.
Q. That certainly never stopped anyone in the alternative era. One of the things that seems to have been lost between late '80s indie-rock like the Pixies and the alternative era in the '90s was the reluctance to whine about whether you were succeeding in being a rock star. Everybody in the '90s whined.
A. A lot of the '80s bands certainly didn't start off trying to take over the world; that really wasn't the point. The point was to go and carve your own niche. If you have a niche, then you should be pretty darn happy about it.
I never felt like I got left out of anything. It was like, "I got exactly what I set out to get, and more." Bands that sell millions of records sell millions of records because they usually sound a certain way -- there's a little bit of the "hitting people over the head with a stupid stick" factor.
Q. And the Pixies were always much more complicated than that?
A. Totally. I'm not saying that we're intellectuals or anything like that, but it's way quirkier than what you're gonna hear in the mainstream. That's just the way that it is.
Q. I've read a lot of the college newspaper reviews of this tour, and I find it interesting that many younger writers who never saw the Pixies the first time around have picked up on how very anti-image the band was: It always looked as if the four of you had just stepped out of the crowd whenever you took the stage. You couldn't have picked four less likely rock musicians, or four individuals who seemed less likely to be grouped together.
A. That's how it was in Boston, and I'm sure it was the same in other cities at that time in the college-rock world. That's what you did: It was like, "Oh, 'the Fluffy Daddies' are done playing, they were on from 7 to 7:20, and now we're on in five minutes!" You were the audience -- in your T-shirt and lugging your amp up there and playing your half-hour set -- and then you were done and you were watching "The Vomit Squad" at 9:30.
Of course, we were young and dumb and everyone was trying to be supportive and all that crap, but that's just kind of how it was: You went and played to all the other bands and their girlfriends, and then we all just traded positions. If you were actually good, then you'd move from Tuesday night to Wednesday night to Friday night, and you'd start to get a few people that were actually, like, "fans" of yours, even though you didn't have a record out. So it wasn't like we were so anti-image; it was just sort of like "image" was what all the lame-ass mainstream music was about. We were more intellectual, in a pretentious kind of way.
Q. The need to become someone else in order to play rock 'n' roll -- was that why Charles Thompson became Black Francis, and later Frank Black?
A. Yeah -- that was my token theatrical affectation. I just wanted a stage name, and I thought I was allowed. It seemed kind of like a fun thing to do, and if it was good enough for Iggy Pop, it was good enough for me.
Q. You mentioned the dichotomy between the English reaction to the Pixies and the band's reception here. Have you gained any perspective with the passage of time about why the Brits were so excited and the American mainstream wasn't?
A. I would say that the Brits to this day are inundated with theatrical expression -- I suppose that's sort of the home of the modern theater, or whatever -- so it's to be expected. All British bands, they're like wearing their stupid outfits when they're in the lobby in the morning checking out of their hotel; they're like, "We're the so-and-so's, so we're gonna stand around with our hoods on and mope" or whatever.
That's their whole thing, which is fine, but to some kids from Boston, it seemed a little bulls---ty or something. We were not bulls---ty at all, and I think the Brits knew that and liked that. We were just kind of raw -- we were the real deal -- so we were probably refreshing.
Q. When people talk about the actual musical influence that the Pixies had, do you have any idea what they're talking about?
A. No, not really. I don't think anyone really knows why we are liked. I think the reason is that we are very Joe Blow or something. Not like we're regular guys in mechanics' shirts, but more kind of post-punk slacker-people Joe Blows. People sense that we're in this lifelong battle of the bands contest, and we're just like everyone's favorite underdog.
Q. So it's more of a spiritual thing that younger bands pick up on, rather than specific musical tricks like the "quiet verse/loud chorus" sonic trademark?
A. Yeah, I think so.
Q. So many critics have made this connection, but when you heard Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," did you think, "Hey, the Pixies did that!"
A. No, not at all. I think everyone just can tell that we tried to have a band and we tried to write some songs and we tried to do something creative -- just like they might try, if they were to try -- and that we kind of pulled it off or got away with it or something. And everyone's kind of like, "Yeah!" I think it's an Everyman thing. How you want to elaborate on that, go for it, but I'm not really sure. But generally speaking, I think that's what it is.
Q. Relations in the band the first time around became famously contentious: You all pretty much hated one another at the end. Is everyone getting along better and enjoying it more now?
A. Oh, totally, yeah.
Q. There's a different dynamic now?
A. Yeah. Everyone now is old and not high [laughs].
Q. Chicagoan Steve Albini recorded your first full album, "Surfer Rosa," and then famously reviewed it after the fact in a piece that has been widely reprinted. He wrote: "Their willingness to be 'guided' by their manager, their record company and their producers is unparalleled. Never have I seen four cows more anxious to be led around by their nose rings."
A. Which is bulls---t, total bulls---! And he has gone on record, in Spin I believe it was most recently, saying, "Hey, whatever, I said a lot of stupid things when I was younger," as we all have. That's fine; I'm not really concerned about that anymore.
Q. Albini's comment does raise the issue of careerism: Was there ever a point when the Pixies became obsessed with success?
A. We never ever have been A&R'd by anybody [meaning controlled by the record company], but ... we've been open to suggestions from stupid people, basically. We haven't necessarily taken them up on it, but we don't really have a lot of the attitude of like, "Corporate rock is bad, man! We've gotta, like, stop it, man!"
We don't really have an ax to grind with anybody; as far as we're concerned, everybody is kind of silly. Anybody that's not in the band is kind of silly, basically, so we have no problem sitting down and having lunch with anybody, whether they be some cool rock f--- or some corporate schmuck. Whatever. Everyone's kind of silly, and if we weren't in the band, we'd be silly.
All we've got is our little band, so we've never really been caught up in a lot of that stuff that other people have become caught up in -- the us-vs.-them kind of thing. We just want to play music, and the rest is not really that big a deal to us.
Q. You haven't let the industry distract you?
A. Yeah, I suppose. We have never compromised our art. We didn't run out and get Steve Albini because we were so desperate to have Steve Albini in our midst. When we worked with Steve Albini, we did not know who Steve Albini was. He was a suggestion by a record company guy, and because we basically didn't care, we were just like, "Studio? Record? Sure. Producer-guy? Cool. Whatever, as long as we don't have to participate in the Boston WBCN Battle of the Bands contest! Whatever gets us out of town, fine, we don't really care. If there's any editing to be going on -- if anything smells funny -- we'll probably nix it."
And we did: We nixed plenty of things. But we were just a lot more open to suggestions. Sometimes we ended up working with someone like Steve Albini, and sometimes we ended up working with someone like Gil Norton, two totally different people.
Q. What holds up best for you from the Pixies' body of work?
A. Every album has its "A side" and its "B side," just like every record has its "A list" and its "B list." Is the A list what it's all about? Well, you could make that argument. You could also make the argument that the filler is what it's all about. I don't really know.
Q. Well, are the songs that excite you now when you sing them again every night the same ones that excited you back then?
A. Kind of, yeah.
Q. So it's not like parts of the Pixies' catalog surprised you when you went back to it?
A. No. No, because we toured a lot, so we worked out a lot of stuff.
Q. And it just came back, like riding a bicycle?
A. Totally.
Q. Even for Dave, who's got the most physically demanding role?
A. Certainly that was the biggest question mark, because the drum stool is the most challenging physically. But he totally pulled it off. He's better than he used to be; I think everybody is.
Q. The million-dollar question is what happens next. Are you looking at recording again?
A. I guess so; we'll probably record. We don't have anything booked; we're just not in a rush, and that's probably good for the band, because that's probably where they were always at. They probably never were in a rush, and I probably used to be a lot more in a rush. We probably recorded a little too much.
Q. And you've mellowed?
A. Yeah. The rest of the band likes to record, but they like playing gigs and going on tour and recording once in a while. I don't think that they're like dying to get back in the studio so I can become their dictator again, which is sort of what happens. I've got a big mouth; that's why I'm on the singing microphone.
Q. We were talking about the influence the Pixies have had, but what was influencing you when you started the band?
A. Oh, you know, "The White Album." [Laughs] Anything, really -- there are just so many records to listen to.
Q. To me, the Pixies were coming from the artier end of the punk movement -- Wire, Gang of Four, Pere Ubu -- and the immediate bridge was Boston's Mission of Burma. It was punk, but it was art-punk, and that means you could make it anything you wanted it to be.
A. It was more like, "Oh, I really heard a great record," and it didn't really matter what it sounded like -- it just rang the bells. We just set out to ring the bells. All kinds of people ring the bells: Musical geniuses ring the bells, and people that are complete idiots ring the bells.
I suppose that's what college rock or indie rock let you hear, too: a lot of really ridiculous stuff, people not being serious at all, or people being really lo-fi or even reducing it all to a joke. There are lots of people that do lots of thing with a microphone and some tape and ring the bells, so it's wide open. We were never like, "We want to sound like this" or "We want to sound like that." We were just like, "Let's just do something and see what happens."
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dayanara
* Dog in the Sand *
Australia
1811 Posts |
Posted - 11/08/2004 : 17:23:53
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Good read - thanks for posting it!
Around here, intolerance will not be tolerated |
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hWolsky
= Cult of Ray =
France
696 Posts |
Posted - 11/08/2004 : 17:43:22
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Frank Black, the ideal Mussolini?
tolerance, the excuse for the weak, the weapon of the strong
HW |
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Ziggy
* Dog in the Sand *
United Kingdom
2463 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 03:18:28
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Interviewer doesn't really like the band, does he?
Ah well, the interview is fab. Great quotes from the Man, as per usual. |
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Zsolt G.
- FB Fan -
117 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 10:45:15
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| Derogatis is a huge dork. He even has a TV show here in Chicago, where him and Greg Kott (music critic for Chicago Tribune)compete for the most hideous man on the planet prize. That said, this interview is on the good side, and I think it's healthy if the interviewer is a little bit skeptical of the band he interviews, lest it become fanboyish. He almost made it through without reference to Nirvana...but not quite. |
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Daisy Girl
~ Abstract Brain ~
Belize
5305 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 19:22:44
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Thanks Zsolt for the background.
quote:
Originally posted by Ziggy
Interviewer doesn't really like the band, does he?
Ah well, the interview is fab. Great quotes from the Man, as per usual.
Yeah... I was picking up on that vibe too... I bet he probably doesn't like the Beatles or Zepplin too... what all journalists should strive for -- to be fair and balanced is not taken.
It's also a bad sign when the reporters questions are longer than the interviewee's replys... some people just get off by being mean.
http://www.campervanbeethoven.com/gearstolen/ |
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porkbone1
= Cult of Ray =
USA
390 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 20:11:39
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Cool article. Mr. Thompson is, in fact, the Man.
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The joke has come upon me |
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Jose Jones
* Dog in the Sand *
USA
1758 Posts |
Posted - 11/11/2004 : 09:58:57
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this interviewer fella ripped on greg kott for picking the shins' "chutes too narrow" on his end-of-year list.
he is a huge dork, but the interview was better than most.
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they were the heroes of old, men of renown. |
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NimrodsSon
* Dog in the Sand *
USA
1938 Posts |
Posted - 11/11/2004 : 14:41:20
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Jim Derogatis is probably the most pretentious asshole out of all the journalists out there, and I would definitely suspect he doesn't like the Pixies.
ˇViva los Católicos! |
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G-man
- FB Fan -
USA
4 Posts |
Posted - 11/11/2004 : 16:06:49
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Couldn't agree more with the other posts, I've been reading Jim D. for sometime now and I'm amazed that he's still has a job. He'll be at one of the Pixies shows in Chicago taking up room and keeping a true fan from getting in that night. A $5 side bet--in his review of the show he'll be upset that the Pixies didn't talk/interact with the crowd much during the set. Idiot!
Somewhat Off Topic--Jim did write a scathing piece about Metallica playing in Chicago on their last tour. I've never laughed harder at something he's written. If anyone has a few min. to kill, you'll have to find that article on the Chicago Sun Times website. |
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Chicago Sun Times--FB Q&A
