*cheers to Regurgitator for the excellent accompanying song to this classic refrain plus a shout out to my gorgeous friend Danielle, pictured above. This pic was taken at a Drones gig in Canberra after we had just met, and she is still one of the good ones 🙂
As far as epic film endings go, closing cult ‘99 film David Fincher’s Fight Club with Pixies‘ track ‘Where Is My Mind’ (from their 1988 debut Surfer Rosa) was a particularly inspired choice.
As well as expertly accompanying the Armageddon depths of Tyler Durden’s insanity (or crystal clear clarity, depending on your mindset), it also introduced plenty of newcomers to the unparalleled theatre of the Boston indie-rock legends.
Pixies’ undisputed influence on most of your favourite bands has led to their deserved essential-listening status, but I was lucky enough to first hear them in 1989 at age 11 (yes, that year existed separately to a Taylor Swift album, imagine!) thanks to a newly appointed older ‘stepsister’ who had undeniably excellent music taste.
I heard Doolittle on repeat and I cannot describe its impact. I devoured everything they released endlessly, alongside my inevitable descent into angsty grunge/goth teen. What a fucking soundtrack. No notes, as the kids say.
Years passed after they first broke up and to my mind, that first run of EP and records was a complete, perfect and finite discography. I thought I would never see them live, so had the Flying P logo etched on my arm to underline my enduring love, and I thought that was that.
They then unexpectedly reunited whilst I was pregnant with my youngest son, and I found myself at the barrier at the Big Top in Luna Park in 2007, rubbing my growing baby bump as I had the out of body experience of finally seeing them live.
In November this year I will be at the Hordern in Sydney, seeing Pixies for the eighth time.
That might sound a little obsessive, but to be fair, they are playing Trompe Le Monde and Bossanova in full (underrated albums from the aforementioned golden years) and the beauty of hearing one of your favourite bands perform records you know EVERY SINGLE BIT OF cannot be matched.
I imagine you are pretty familiar with the classics (You know the opening bars to ‘Debaser’, you’ve shouted that ‘the devil is 6‘ in ‘Monkey Gone To Heaven’ and turned up the jangly pop of ‘Here Comes Your Man’ in the car), but I reckon it’s worth touching on some other tracks I still go back to.
‘Bailey’s Walk’ (b-side to ‘Here Comes Your Man’, 1989)
This is a perfect introduction to the baffling dichotomy of Black Francis’ vocals. To the uninitiated, Francis’ nasal whine sounds completely unappealing, until you discover that it can give way to a howling brilliance that is capable of mirroring your internal anguish to perfection.
Francis’ observation of a San Juan man strolling through a carpark backed by Joey Santiago’s achingly catchy guitar will stay with you long after it ends.
‘River Euphrates’ (Surfer Rosa, 1988)
The quiet/loud dynamic that so influenced Kurt Cobain is excellently showcased here, as is the expertly controlled vocal chaos shared between bassist Kim Deal and Francis.
Deal once coined the awesome term ‘eargasm’ in an interview and this song gives them in spades.
Many internet conversations held by people with more time than you or I debate whether Francis is riding a tyre down the River Euphrates after his car ran out of gas on the Gaza Strip, or is it a tiger? (stemming from the word’ Tigris’, which makes geographic sense with the Tigris river flowing into Euphrates).
Sheesh, it’s just a belter of a song really.
‘The Happening’ (Bossanova, 1990)
One of the best offerings on their 1990 release Bossanova, only equalled in its intensity in this author’s humble opinion by the wondrous single ‘Velouria’.
An alien conspiracy-theory laden jam with a gorgeous extended outro, similar to the meditative ending on ‘No 13 Baby’ (from 1989’s Doolittle).
If there are other lifeforms being held at Area 51 like Francis is banking on, they should be listening to this underrated record.
‘Caribou’ (Come On Pilgrim, 1987)
The band’s first EP, Come on Pilgrim, was evidence that a gap year in another country can be pretty influential when you’re on the cusp of everything, with Francis’ time in Puerto Rico all over his songwriting. Though we can’t really tell if his Spanish is even any good, such is the confidence in his propulsive delivery.
I can’t choose just one song here; when you’ve recovered from the hypnotic cacophony of ‘Vamos’, bask in the shimmering pop of ‘Ed is Dead’ then marvel at ‘Caribou’, one of the best templates of their iconic sound there is.
‘Letter to Memphis’ (Trompe Le Monde, 1991)
Such a beautiful tale of unrequited love from one of their least popular records.
Supposedly Francis’ take on a Chuck Berry track (‘Memphis, Tennessee’), it also featured as an instrumental B-side to ‘Alec Eiffel’, but that version failed to pack the punch that lyrics like ‘Used to be that my head was haunted/I feel strong, I feel lucky/Trying to get to you‘ evoke.
‘Mother Banger’ – Chris Morris
I’ll leave you with a special NSFW bonus; a Pixies parody by UK comedian Chris Morris.
This was tacked on to the end of a bootleg I bought in the early-‘90s, so I was convinced it was a hidden track of theirs for longer than I care to admit.
It’s believable due to Morris completely capturing Francis’ fractured vocal and no matter how over-the-top the lyrics may seem (again, not safe for work), it’s testament to Francis’ searing, slightly cringe-worthy erotic wordplay (See ‘Cactus’ from Surfer Rosa).
The Vinyl Monologues Podcast 