Art-rock for art people. The Pixies sound hot but aren’t. There lies the deception. When you first heard “Hear Comes Your Man” you said, ‘bet that dude is a fox’. Then you saw lead singer, Black Francis, and you felt duped. I sure as hell did. What if that’s my man comin, someone shut the fuckin door.
But then they had some delightful little ditties about monkeys and la la love you and well you said, ‘I’m gonna like them’. Wait, they’re from Boston, home of the original hipster fuck bags! So, since they have been around since like what? 1985? They’re the grandparents of hip. Arty punks who stayed the path and did well with it. No mansions but no office jobs, perfect.
Latest tune ‘BagBoy”- is horrible. A latte’ scented babble for the plaid set. Cover my ears and pray for ending, rather than ‘cover your breath, polish your teeth’.
It tries too hard, its too tinny, its too psychedelic ‘notice me, but be cool’ for me to like. No tappable beat, no logical story line. Its like Charlie Browns Thanksgiving dinner menu. Trying to be festive but totally “wtf do jellybeans have to do with it?” Why is there toast? Wait, where are their parents? Dig? Am I confusing you so you don’t want to deal with this anymore? GOOD! cuz that’s exactly what this tune did to me.
Pass- time to teach music in some shit school and tour over summer breaks.