Pixies are a hard band to nail down and their 1988 debut Surfer Rosa exemplifies this. On one hand, this record could easily be described caterwauling, riff driven punk rock. Conversely however, it is also characterised by its offbeat sense of humour, nostalgia for Dick Dale-esque surf guitar and a thread of strange sweetness that runs through songs about incarceration, loneliness, insanity and obsession. The ability of songwriters Frank Black and Kim Deal to write songs containing these idiosyncrasies is one thing, but to perform them with such alternating vigorous energy and laid back California cool is a whole other trick. The Pixies emerged on their debut as a fully formed beast – loud/quiet/loud recipe fully loaded – and began to transform the alt rock landscape instantaneously. Like the Velvet Underground, they found mainstream success mostly after their initial implosion but the handful of people who were hip to them from the beginning all formed their own bands, including a young Kurt Cobain. Surfer Rosa doesn’t follow any blueprints – it is a new kind of rock n’ roll percolated in the fevered minds of Pixies. It is sometimes surreal and sometimes sweet, sometimes loud and sometimes quiet – but it is always brilliant.
Pete Whelan 