Pixies – DOOLITTLE
It used to be one of life’s
simple pleasures – listening to “Tame” at full volume. In public transport. On
the way to the university. “Debaser” was good as well, but nothing came close
to the exquisite chorus of “Tame”. I haven’t done that in years, opting instead
for “Here Comes Your Man” that may or may not be the greatest pop song ever
written.
Bossanova remains special, but that’s mainly because it was my first Pixies
record. Special albums are special, that’s the least you can say about them,
but there’s no question that Doolittle
is the one where the rougher edges of Surfer
Rosa best meet the songwriting charms of “Is She Weird?”
The lyrics are
nonsensical (unless you wish to psychoanalyse yourself – that’s according to
Frank Black), the melodies are twisted and the chord progressions are fucked
up. There really is no way to explain how it all works so beautifully without
resorting to the ‘it’ argument. Pixies had it. You can speak for hours on end
about what makes these songs so good, but I would just play you the climax of
“Monkey Gone To Heaven”.
You don’t have too
many bands able to come up with something like that.
