Pixies they were one of the inexcusable touchstones of that indie-rock explosion detonated throughout the nineties, based on those four albums –“Surfer Rosa” (4AD, 88), “Doolittle” (Elektra, 89), “Bossanova” (Electra, 90) y “Deceives the world” (Elektra, 91)– converted (to a greater or lesser extent) into classics. For this reason, any visit by the group to our country (especially if it is located beyond the festival of the day) becomes a must-see event for fans of the old guard, enlisted time and again for the reunion with those from Boston. The excuse was, on this occasion, the live presentation of “Doggerel” (Infectious, 22), the last studio album of the combo, the fourth of its second stage and (probably) the best of it.
The North Americans took the stage of the WiZink Center to carry out a concert that, although developed without pause, could well be disarmed in three parts. The evening began with a well-received section designed to warm up the growing atmosphere (and, actually, the musicians themselves), which included songs such as “Cactus”, “Vamos”, “Ana”, “Brick Is Red” or “Here Comes Your Man”, the first massive celebration of the night. Then came that section that the group usually reserves as a whim, in this case made up of a multitude of songs from “Doggerel” (Infectious, 22). It doesn’t matter, really, because the intensity levels remained unchanged and, despite logical differences, the spell was maintained thanks to gems from the LP such as “There’s a Moon On”, “Vault Of Heaven”, “Haunted House”, “ Get Simulated” or “Dregs Of The Wine”. Also, who are we, poor mortals, to use intolerant ingratitude and deny the protagonists the possibility of defending their most recent work. For its part, the last stretch of the concert resulted in the long-awaited apotheosis, capped by a fully filmed sequence that included shrapnel as violent as “Hey!”, “Wave Of Mutilation” (reprise included), “Isla de Encanta”, a huge “Debaser”, “Bone Machine”, the (appropriate) revision of The Jesus & Mary Chain’s “Head On”, “Caribou” or “Where Is My Mind?” But, as it would have been too obvious to end the ultra-radiated piece, Black and company opted for the version of Neil Young’s “Winterlong” as closing.
The evening was presided over by a great sound, combining power and aggressiveness with a clean manner that allowed one to recreate each of the elements of this strange equation. Joey Santiago continues to be a priceless guitarist, almost impossible, who contributes with every movement he executes, while David Lovering complies behind the drums, protected by an apparent discretion that, in reality, hides an essential part of the formula; Paz Lenchantin has achieved – with skill and charisma in equal parts – that Kim Gordon on bass is hardly missed (the only original piece that, of course, and given his bad relationship with Francis, is no longer a member of the band), endorsing the success of his signing; Black Francis himself was plugged in behind the microphone and, only at the end, did he show a voice somewhat affected by the effort. All in a concert developed with austerity and necessary roughness, without decorations or poses facing the gallery, ignoring any kind of empathy with the public, a maneuver that, in fact, would have been creaky and almost obscene for the sole reason for which that we were there A content that is the group’s sole reason for being, and that points to those strange and almost amorphous songs, with impossible turns, mutant rhythms and extremely marked parts that, on stage, are hypnotic, seductive and impossible to avoid. The same ones that have accompanied us all our lives and give away eternal melodies, intertwined with streaks of Martian viscerality.
the seminal Pixies they gave away almost two hours of non-stop performance (as generous as it is usually unpredictable given the extensive catalog and their whimsical personality), during which they paid tribute to themselves, as well as to those fans who grew up listening to deliciously rare music that hardly anyone else seemed to understand and from which we never parted. His figure was erected, in what on this occasion was an overwhelming show of strength, like that of the reverential (and referential) band that they are, confirming their status but also their absolute validity. Everything, based on a splendid concert and devastating consequences, the kind that leave a type of residue so arduous that it only fully assimilates with some time.
