Love The Pixies
I missed the first wave of the Pixies. While David Lovering, Joey Santiago, Kim Deal and Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV were rocking out and blowing minds – confusing the media and the general public with what would become their signature difficult-to-pin-down thrashed-out animalistic noise – I was watching Neighbours and well up-to-date with Home & Away. It was only years later, upon a chance encounter in a record store, that I stumbled upon Doolittle and bought it. Like many, that CD changed the way I thought about music forever. Music was no longer a thing set on a straight and predictable path. The Pixies opened it all up and told the world “It’s ok to do it your way, and you don’t have to be the stereotypical rock and roll kinda girl or guy to prove it”. Also intriguing about the Pixies is how little they cared for their appearance (most of the time at least one of them looked as though they had washed their clothes in heating oil, or maybe it’s just the quality of the videos of the gigs). They were happy to go on stage in oversized T-shirts, and you’d never have guessed that Kim Deal had one of the best female vocals in rock at the time (and no doubt up there with the all-time greats even now) to take her at face value. But, sadly, after a reign that lasted a surprisingly short time, the Pixies left us. It would seem, looking back, that no band could sustain the level of energy that this one did. Quite simply, the Pixies were happy burning out than fading away into obscurity. Sometimes I feel sad that I missed their come back gigs in 2009, but then again, part of me understands that those gigs were a personal thing, just for them: one last goodbye. I think I’d prefer to have them blasting in my memory.
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