Seattle Subsonic

Paramount Pixies

November 17th, 2009

There was one thing, outside of the actual music, that my mind kept returning to during the Pixies concert on Friday night at the Paramount. I couldn’t stop thinking about how each band member might view this new ‘20th Anniversary of Doolittle‘ reunion. Are they genuinely excited about it? Or are they in it just for the money? Are they surprised by their current popularity, or did they expect it? Do they think it’s silly, all this fuss over an enigmatic punk band that broke up 16 years ago? Or do they feel validated, or vindicated somehow, by their can-do-no-wrong rep? Much of my questioning was born out of watching each player throughout the performance, taking mental notes from their facial cues, body language, and stage banter (or lack thereof). Essentially, Pixies are a group of four endearing weirdos who sonically coalesced and it’s easy to assume the variation in the answers each would give.

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Kim Deal was beaming the entire evening, leading me to believe her reaction to my queries would mirror an optimist’s. “B-Sides!” she yelped right before they jumped into the first song “Dancing the Manta Ray”. Much to my chagrin, she was the lone person to address the crowd. If you’ve ever seen or heard an interview with Black Francis, you know what we were missing. Admittedly, I probably studied the frontman more than the other three. He is the brain and mouth behind not only Doolittle, but the band itself, and it’s his lyrics and vocal tactics that sink their teeth into me. When he gave little acknowledgment to the crowd—save for a happy little wave 3/4 of the way through—and performed stoically, I wondered if he was really enjoying it. Was he just going through the motions, putting up with it in favor of the fans? Or was he just disinterested in over-indulgence, wanting to keep his cool? He’s always been the gatekeeper, as it were, of the Pixies’ existence—forming them, ending them, reluctantly reuniting them—so his opinion of this resurrection, of this new found popularity, is incredibly intriguing to me. I’ll never know, of course, but conjecture is fun.

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As for Dave Lovering and Joe Santiago, they offered little to make these cognitive assumptions with. Santiago’s guitar chops basically kept Pixies from being a pop band and Lovering spins his own modest magic behind the kit. Each played their heart out, that much is true. In fact, musically, the whole band was fabulously tight. Yes, Black Francis’s howl has lost some of its pierce over the years, but his growl remains true; and Deal’s vocals seemed to lack their familiar lilt, but hating on that would be like hating on your grandma for losing her eyesight. I was astonished by how quick her bass fluttered during “Tame”, moreso than on record. “Here Comes Your Man” sounded downright folksy (was that just me?). The crowd was especially stoked during the existential environmentalism of “Monkey Gone to Heaven”, counting and screaming along with the most incendiary of Francis’ refrains. At one point, I realized that “Hey” had a bit of jazziness to it, and flipped it around in my head. It could’ve been their history clouding my imagination, but the vocal duel on “Silver” conjured thoughts of Francis trying to annoy Deal. She’s singing nice and sweet and normal, and then he comes in all crazy-like like an alley cat, singing out of turn/tune.

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I pondered many things during this concert, as you’ve read, one of which was who was in charge of the visuals. We were treated (I’d never seen it) to a “screening” of Un Chien Andalou, the surrealist film of Salvador Dali and Luis Buñuel that “Debaser” is, er, based on. There were four constantly changing colored orbs hovering above the band. The digital screen behind them mutated from abstract song pictorials (the crab, the halo-d monkey, dripping blood, some creepy mannequins), to literal lyric positioning, to Brady Bunch-style head shots, to chummy video of the Fab Four. None of it felt forced or cheesy, not even the cartoon hearts running around during Lovering’s “La La Love You” serenade.

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When “Gouge Away” ended, the band stuck around to soak in the applause, shaking hands with the front row, smiling and waving, and finally taking a collective bow as a similar image moved behind them on screen. The love between Pixies and crowd was thick and palpable. It was an elongated feel-good moment for a band whose continually inflating fame has scored a satisfying victory for music geeks everywhere. The first encore consisted of the slow surf version of “Wave of Mutilation” and “Into the White”. Kim disappeared completely during the latter as the smoke swallowed her. The second encore showcased two Come On Pilgrim songs— “Nimrod’s Son” and “The Holiday Song”—sandwiched between “Bone Machine” and “Where Is My Mind?” from the flawless Surfer Rosa. In the end, who knows the answers to my questions. But whatever the band’s actual intent, they made no mistakes in giving us what we wanted.

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Lots more pics here. You can also purchase a recording of the show (.mp3 or collector CD) from the band’s website.