I saw the Pixies last night, with Francis & Jordan. Today I can't speak and I'm half-deaf. God, that was good. They closed with "Gigantic", and as I stood, soaked in sweat, eyes closed and a hand in the air, I was hit by a constant rolling wave of endorphins. Listen to the resonance in their guitars in the minute-long closing instrumental to that song. I love the Pixies. And I love endorphins. I haven't moshed like that in years. Gah.
You know, there's something to be said for working hard. There's something to be said for relaxing. There's something to be said for the feeling of being respected. For gettin' paid. For feeling secure.
But fuck all, man, none compare to feeling ALIVE.
I think the Pixies are an acquired taste. To the untrained ear, they can sound too raw, maybe too punk, too angry, too fucked. And since they're frequently credited as the band whose innovations inspired grunge, you might think they're about darkness and pain and depression. But really . . . that's not what the screeching vocals or wailing, driving instrumentals are about. At all. The Pixies are great because they rock, and they rock you. They make your head implode. They make it feel fucking great to be young, and strong, and alive. Their music just embodies everything that Rock is about. In amazing, innovative, pounding, driving, emotive ways.
I don't know - I'm full of shit, I know. I give up. Let's just leave it that the Pixies are awesome.