Pixies at The Rave/Eagles Ballroom
A classic album does not guarantee a classic show. Sonic Youth’s stilted performance at the 2007 Pitchfork Festival comes to mind—Daydream Nation functioned as a straightjacket for the normally loose, energetic band that night. Maybe the Pixies were confined by Doolittle early on in the tour, celebrating the landmark 1989 album, but certainly not at the The Rave/Eagles Ballroom on Saturday night.
The reunion that began in 2004 had all the potential for disaster. Tensions between Frank Black and Kim Deal at the conclusion of the band’s original run are well documented, and even barring any melodrama, there’s been no talk of new material; on the contrary, making an uninspired cash grab seemed most likely. But the Pixies bucked expectations, taking obvious delight in their unassailable material and showing no signs of animosity or fatigue.
If anything, the crowd needed a shot of adrenaline at first. “We’re gonna play B-sides first,” Deal announced, tearing into “Dancing The Manta Ray.” The band was instantly tight and crackling, and the sound in the ballroom was surprisingly good. But the audience was motionless as it waited for the hits to roll out. The anticipation was thick as the band began to play “Debaser,” and if anyone was worried that Black’s voice hadn’t held up over the years, those fears were quelled—he was as unhinged as ever on the album-opener, the perfect mixture of menace and glee.
Each track featured a different video projected behind the band, none particularly entertaining except the clip for “Here Comes Your Man,” which featured close-ups of the four band members head-bobbing and grooving in time with the performance. The peak of the show began with a stellar “Monkey Gone To Heaven,” followed by the blinding fury of “Mr. Grieves” and “Crackity Jones.” Few bands of 20somethings could match the fervor of the middle-age Pixies in the throes of their best material.
One of the most triumphant moments of the night was getting to see these progenitors of ’90s alt-rock play “No. 13 Baby,” a template for a huge chunk of the grunge movement that has now outlasted virtually all of its imitators. (Yes, Chris Cornell was playing across town at that very moment; what’s your point?) Most of the bands that brought underground rock to the mainstream could only mimic the Pixies’ structure, missing their essence completely. Even in their heyday, few bands could muster the passion that the Pixies are still bringing to the stage. Sure, they dragged out the bows and soaked in the adulation like the aging rock stars that they are, but they’d earned it, not just with a wildly influential career, but with a fantastic show.
