loudQUIETloud: A Film About The Pixies

Unlike many of the classic rock gods and huge stars of the past, the misfits and underground bands (whether it be punks of the 70s, new wave and college rock groups of the 80s, or alternative/indie rock bands of the 90s and 00s) don't cry out for humanizing. Sure, it's still too-easy for critics and fans to put them on pedestals and throw around terms like “genius” and “brilliant”, but when I use such terms it's always with a foot firmly planted in reality. I don't think of these bands as flawless super heroes; I know they have personal problems and likely struggle to make a living. So I don't need to see those problems and struggles revealed in the clear light of day.

Before seeing loudQUIETloud: A Film About The Pixies, I had a vague idea of what the band had been up to since its break-up, and even with my limited knowledge and assumptions, none of it was good. Drummer Dave Lovering and guitarist Joe Santiago had fallen off the face of the earth; Kim Deal put out Breeders albums at a very irregular rate; Black Francis aka Frank Black aka Charles Thompson had a long running solo career, but hadn't seen much acclaim or interest in almost a decade. As the documentary reveals, I wasn't far off. But while loudQUIETloud is valuable for filling in the details of what they've been up to, it unfortunately isn't a wholly satisfying examination of the why's and how's of the reunion.

Setting aside the issue of the band doing it for the money (who could blame them, since like other ahead-of-their-time acts they didn't get nearly enough love and cash back in the day), the band seem most interested in and subsequently shocked by how badly they were missed. Or, in some cases, how much they're now loved and embraced by young people who couldn't have caught them the first time. There's a real touching mini-story arc about a female fan who discovered them via a novel. She's interviewed and plays it a bit cool, but when meeting her heroine, Kim, she loses her composure. She's shown giving Kim her copy of said novel, which is touching and cute, and over the credits footage of her band performing a Pixies song is cut into and out of the actual Pixies playing the same track. This serves as perhaps the best summary of both how influential the Pixies were and still are, and how their music still sounds amazing today. What I mean is, young kids are being directly influenced by them instead of modern indie rock like, say, Wolf Parade or Vampire Weekend.

The personal problems and struggles of the Pixies before and during the reunion are surprisingly mundane. The implication of the unnecessary shots of a shirtless Frank Black is that he has gained considerable weight since the early 90s, and his flagging solo career of rootsy/country-ish music has gotten to the point that he is shown admitting to a producer that most labels have absolutely no interest in him. Kim Deal has struggled with drug and alcohol problems and is bizarrely shown drinking non-alcoholic beer in half the scenes she appears in. At the same time, she lives at home with her mother despite releasing well received Breeders albums with twin sister/care taker Kelley Deal. Joey Santiago, meanwhile, has a family and makes a living with his new band with his wife as well as by doing soundtrack work; he is the most stable and down-to-earth of all the Pixies by far. Perhaps the saddest story is Dave Lovering, who goes from being an eccentric, practically broke magician with long hair to being a harrowed, bald figure by film's end, dealing with his father's recent death by beginning to use pills and booze.

As not enough attention is paid to the break-up of the band or the story behind the union, the main point of loudQUIETloud is their music. The Pixies seem revitalized by performing again. Kim Deal is shown working on new music for the Breeders; Frank Black casually mentions the possibility of new music from the Pixies. Joey Santiago initially struggles with doing a soundtrack while on tour, but it goes better when he invites the Pixies to help out; Dave Lovering seems to have rediscovered music entirely, raving in one scene about how he can't stop listening to music, and in seemingly every scene he has a pair of drum sticks in his hands, banging on this or that surface.

In the midst of all their issues and financial motivation, loudQUIETloud succeeds as a film because it's about the music: the process of playing it, recording it, and loving it. The point seems to be, this is what really matters in the end. Not the break-up or reunion drama; not their personal problems and issues. The people behind the Pixies are fragile and human, but the music they made—that can never be humanized or brought down-to-earth.

Shuffling III

Ready.

Set.

Shuffle!!

1) Something Against You by Pixies: Here we have the Pixies in all their raw glory, yelling and loud guitars and fast rock. This is one of those songs that doesn't work on its own but in the context of an album, it's genius.

2) Slavin' Away (live) by The Fiery Furnaces: I honestly can't remember what album this is from. Originally, I mean; this here is the live version from their live album Remember. Turns out it's from Rehearsing My Choir, which makes sense since I don't really like that album. Yet this version makes me want to revisit it. Or, at the very least, force myself to listen to Remember all the way through in one sitting.

3) Full Throttle by The Prodigy: During one of my many drunken nights, I got the hankering to hear both their best known work (Fat Of The Land) and their most respect, Music For The Jilted Generation. I've always loved that album title. It's got that 'big, important, era defining' ring to it, doubly so for a mid 90s electronica album. I'm not entirely sure this kind of big beat music will survive or age unscathed, but I still admire the curiously psychedelic and drug addled elements of it all. If you haven't listened to Dig Your Own Hole by the Chemical Brothers in awhile, you might be surprised at what you hear. Regardless, The Prodigy are a group who's critical respect will come some day. Anyway, this is one of those good mid-album chuggers that keeps you moving between the bigger or slower tracks.

4) You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb by Spoon: Spoon grow more and more popular and beloved with each album yet they're never become too popular or released a sell out, bad album. Even the more poppy affair like this is pretty awesome. There's just something about their classicist pop/rock as approached from an indie rock perspective that I can't get enough of. And Britt Daniel Daniel has one of those voices that shouldn't be good yet is.

5) Dead by Pixies: Damn, this is the Pixies Sandwich Edition of Shuffling, isn't it, kids?? And this is oddly similar to 'Something Against You' in that I don't think this song works particularly well on its own but it works brilliantly in the context of the album. Why, as this song ends, I can just hear the lead in to 'Monkey Gone To Heaven' in my head...

The Sincerest Form of Flattery

As kids, a great deal of our play was given over to recreating and imitating the things we loved, whether it be TV shows, movies, videogames, or books. I fondly remember constantly having the debate between 'little Turtles' or 'big Turtles' with playmates; that is to say, would a friend and I play with our action figures of the Ninja Turtles, or would we pretend we were them?? It grew to the point where, when a bit older, we would use such exciting new technology such as tape cassette recorders and video cameras to recreate talk radio and game shows, respectively, both with primitive props, sound effects, and costumes. Eventually, the human mind desires to create things of its own. We learn how to play instruments by playing the songs of others, but if you stick with it long enough, you want to write songs of your own. Personally, I've spent a lot of time reading and imitating the writing style of others in order to figure out what works, but also to help influence and shape my own style.

There is something genuinely sacred and fulfilling about the creative act and it's something that I think most people take for granted and don't realize they're doing. As adults we often parrot lines and skits from TV shows and movies we love in order to elicit the laughs of those in on the joke, and as a way to connect with people we don't know very well but who also love similar things. This, obviously, mirrors what we did as children. But the older you get, the most amusing things to you are those that you and your circle of friends and family come up with. I'm sure you can think of a few hilarious moments or running jokes you and your friends/coworkers have that wouldn't make sense to outsiders; even if you took the requisite 10 minutes to set up why the joke is funny, in the telling it becomes neutered and lame.

At the same time, it's increasingly hard to be original anymore. I'm talking specifically in the field of the arts. I routinely get the feeling that everything has been done before--every book has been written, every kind of music has been made, every possible permutation of a story or joke has been told, every art movement and counter art movement has run its course. Originally comes at a premium for me, such that it's always a temptation for me to overvalue things that don't look/sound/read/play like anything I've experienced before. However, the critical faculties eventually kick in and I begin to ask myself whether something is both original and good. There is a huge distinction between "original" and "original but also good" that critics and fans must constantly keep in mind. On the other hand, this obsession with originality plagues my mind when I'm writing, to the point where I sometimes scrap things because, even though they're good by my estimation, they read/feel too closely to the style or thought process of other writers.

I've always gravitated towards art that creates a distinctive, unique world. Even if it borrows elements of other things, the result is something that feels wholly original. I completely realize the flaws in something like, say, the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion, but I absolutely love it for the odd world it establishes. I think this is precisely why people like 'cult' movies, TV shows, videogames, and so on, because they like to feel as if they're part of some other reality outside our own that most people aren't aware of. Kind of like a larger form of an inside joke, if you think about it. This is why I loved The Adventures of Pete & Pete as a kid: the city it was set in, along with its characters, gave me a glimpse into a world that was more surreal, interesting, and sensible than our own. When I meet people who also loved the show, it's as if we suddenly have a set of inside jokes and references to share.

To tie all this together: the best art, in my opinion, is that which feels like the work of a small group of people--the inside jokes and references they have--which somehow translates to a wider audience because of the world it creates. Kevin Smith always seems baffled by the popularity of his Jay and Silent Bob characters, but the way they walk the border between the 'mundane' and the 'supernatural' is what makes them seem so real and lasting. They sometimes end up doing extraordinary things, but they're part of a world (the Askewniverse) that has a definite mythos and concrete set of rules. The same goes for bands that sound completely original, who seem to come out of nowhere and shock crusty critics like me who spend most of their thinking time at their menial jobs trying to come up with reference points for whatever band they're going to have to write a review of. Whether you love or hate Deerhoof, The Fiery Furnaces, The Silver Apples, Beat Happening, Frog Eyes, etc. you can't deny the originality of their sound. Certainly they have some influences and antecedents you could point to, but they don't really sound like them. It's more "we were influenced by..." than "we imitate...", if you follow my meaning. I love those bands because they create their own little niche world you can inhabit as a fan. They may not seem to create a world as richly and easily as books, TV shows, movies, or videogames can, but keep in mind that you've got more than just their music to work with. You've got their album covers and liner notes, their websites, their live shows, and their interviews to work with, too. Listening to, say, the Pixies or Talk Talk for the first time, it's as if you're being let into a new club that's always existed and now you get to play catch up. Moreover, other bands may be influenced by them, but if they stick too closely to the sound they sound like a cover band playing original material in between said covers. This is why Nirvana were so awesome, because Kurt Cobain admittedly took a lot from listening to the Pixies, but listening to them back-to-back, there's something new and original in Nirvana's sound.

You may remember that in 1998 a remake of Psycho was released to theaters and promptly dropped out of sight. What you probably don't remember is that it was a shot-for-shot attempt by Gus Van Sant to remake the original by following Alfred Hitchcock as perfectly as possible. Even though critics tried to see it his way, as an experiment in remaking films, everyone--even Van Sant himself--has agreed that a shot-by-shot remake of a film is pointless. You can't totally copy a film anyway, and even if you could, what would it accomplish?? As much as most remakes end up being crap, it's always best to change something from the original because otherwise it's a waste of time and money on everyone's part.
With all of this in mind, I present to you Rook by Shearwater and Stars and Garters by Muy Cansado. Enjoyable albums, yes, but they sound so close to their influences--the aforementioned Talk Talk and Pixies, respectively--that it bothers me. Rook is, according to Metacritic, one of the best rated albums of the year, so I've given a lot of thought to this whole 'originality'/'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery' issue. What's ultimately troubling about both of these albums is that they aren't very original yet I like them. Mostly I think it's just because both the Pixies and Talk Talk are defunct, and you can only listen to their albums so many times before you want something like it, but different and new. So, do you, as a critic, curve your score of these albums because you know they're borderline ripping off other bands, bands you enjoy?? I mean, it would be one thing if they were ripping off cancerous bands like Creed and Limp Bizkit, but critical darlings such as the Pixies and Talk Talk?? No fair. The case against Muy Cansado is more damning, I will say, because, not only do they sound like the Pixies, they also stole many other things from them, like being from Boston, having a girl bassist who sings one song, having a song or two in Spanish, and having album pacing that recalls Doolittle. I mean, the first song, 'Telemundo', might as well be 'Debaser', while the second song might as well be 'Tame', only with less screaming and tamer (har har) guitars.
People like to pretend that art should be judged on its own terms, but nothing exists in a vacuum. This is where the role of critics come in, whether it be the professional old hands or snotty upstarts like yours truly. Our job is to expose ourselves to a chosen art form, to swim across its breadth and dive into its depths, and to use this knowledge to sift the gold out of the river of releases like old timey gold prospectors. A job that is half consumer guide and half high falutin' think pieces (like this one, I suppose).

Judged on their own merits, Stars and Garters and Rook are good albums. But judged in reality, where I know of other, better, more original bands, they aren't good albums. They can't be, because they try to insinuate themselves into the world and mythos of others, and this always rings as false. We knew as kids that we weren't really the Ninja Turtles. We had fun with it, had fun playing in the world they resided in, but we never tried to convert that play into a career. I'm not implying that Shearwater and Muy Cansado are making money off the work of others--because that's what cover bands do, in all honesty--but I wish people who know better would make clear to the public when bands are imitating versus when they've just been influenced. Because in the arts, influence is the true sincerest form of flattery.

Album of the Week: Pixies- Surfer Rosa

One of my fondest memories is a road trip some friends and I took years ago. Being the music nerd that I am, I had a huge leather wallet of CDs in the car with us and after much discussion we put Surfer Rosa on. Grinning in the ecstasy of youth and freedom that is a male road trip, we were singing along and joking around throughout the entire thing, every song met with "god, I love this album" comments and fist pumping. Air guitars may have been employed. I relate this story to you because, when you get beyond all talk of Surfer Rosa being influential and "important", you are left with a damn fine album that is a blast to listen to.

The Pixies were and remain a band for music nerds and critics. Though the grunge/alt rock groups that they inspired would go on to become massive stars and millionaires in the 90s, the Pixies have never been a band like that. Successful, yes. Beloved, yes. But--and this may be presumptuous to say--they belong to music nerds and critics. The subject matter of their songs is simply too odd and creepy, the music too noisy and unhinged to ever appeal to a mass market audience. If you went to high school anytime from the late 80s onward and you were the weird kid in class who wasn't satisfied with the music that was popular amongst your peers, chances are good you found the Pixies. Dropping the needle on (or pressing play) your first Pixies album is a revelation the likes of which you usually only hear about in religious circumstances. Oh, to be able to hear 'Debaser' for the first time again...

But that song comes from Doolittle, and I'm trying to discuss Surfer Rosa. The genius of what the Pixies did, first with Come On Pilgrim and fully realized here, was to play with the dynamics that had always been in place in rock music. What I mean is, loud/soft and noisy/clean. It's a very basic formula--one which Kurt Cobain famously admitted to ripping off wholesale from the Pixies--but one that pays incredible dividends: witness the rush of opener 'Bone Machine', which builds to a peak before the "your bone's got a little machine" lyric kills the sound and then the guitars come slashing back in. Witness 'Something Against You', which opens with a clean rhythm guitar before the distorted lead guitar blasts the door down and Black Francis howls in anger through what sounds like a bullhorn. Witness 'Gigantic', which opens so delicately and showcases the power of loud/quiet and clean/noisy dynamics.

At just a touch over a half hour in length, Surfer Rosa's every moment is excellent and worthwhile. Nothing is carelessly put on the album just to pad out the runtime--even the studio banter is classic amongst a certain friend and I. Hell, even the silly 'Tony's Theme' is great though it is my least favorite song on the album. And that's the crux of the album to me: it's just so enjoyable and so much fun to listen to. I frequently cite Surfer Rosa in reviews as an example of something that I find addictive and compulsively listenable. Due to its brevity and consistency, it's hard not to put it on when I can't decide what I want to listen to or, say, when I'm scrolling through iTunes and trying to come up with a review to write. I'm just sayin'.

I could talk about all those ancillary things about the album--Steve Albini's production, the perverse but catchy lyrics, the way it influenced indie rock bands to have a token girl often as a bassist--but like I said at the beginning, if you push all that aside you'll be left with not just one of the best indie rock albums or one of the best rock albums, but one of the best albums of all time, period. Yes, Surfer Rosa is that good. Go listen to it again; your awkward, strange younger self will thank you.

Primer: Pavement Part 5- Brighten The Corners

Of all the Pavement albums most in need of reevaluation and re-contextualizing via the deluxe reissue treatments Matador has been giving Pavement for the past half decade, Brighten The Corners is at the top of my list, followed by Terror Twilight. While I have a clear picture of what Terror Twilight is and what the band were trying to achieve, I also know that there were a myriad of b-sides and Spiral Stairs songs left off that will provide for rich grist when the time comes for its 2 CD rebirth.

What I can't quite grasp is much about Brighten The Corners. Its era (1996 through early 1998) is easily the most undiscussed and unknown period in Pavement's history; things seem to kind of stop at the end of the Wowee Zowee era with the release in January 1996 of the Pacific Trim EP and pick up again in the summer of 1998, with the recording sessions for Terror Twilight, which is also a time when Stephen Malkmus began to do solo shows and was quickly, then slowly, then quickly on his way to breaking up the band toward the end of 1999. Watching The Slow Century DVD you would hardly know Brighten The Corners is released, other than the five or so minutes it's given where Stephen Malkmus mentions that with the album they were trying to show more of their classic rock and REM influences.

Yet even with that Rosetta Stone the album itself is a bit of a slippery thing to nail down. It's Pavement's most mature album in many ways, from the mostly mannered songs and arrangements to the lyrical subjects that frequently mention marriage, growing old, and changes in general. It also is their most accessible by virtue of the fact that there are no noise bursts or screaming; even their other "my parents might like this" album, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, had stuff like 'Hit The Plane Down.' So, then, Brighten The Corners is their classic rock/REM album...but it's Pavement's take on this aesthetic, so it's odd and still too strange for the mainstream audience it should have/was trying to appeal to.

We need to keep in mind that, during 1996 and 1997, people were again predicting the death of rock and roll. Electronica/techno had finally caught on in America--after years of being huge in Europe and other locales--and as usual for a short sighted and culturally narrow minded populace, some American critics and writers began to wonder if it would replace rock. Never mind that "with us or against us" and black-and-white have no place in music and never have; also never mind that jazz, blues, rock, hip hop, country, folk, techno, etc. can co-exist peacefully and cross pollinate and create great things. No, it seems that everyone was again making the mistake and saying rock was dead. Into this mire came Pavement, with their most thoroughly old fashioned album. In the aforementioned DVD, a European journalist asks Malkmus if, with Brighten The Corners, they are trying to save rock. He mutters some clever answer about how they feel alone on an island with a few other bands, but they'll save it in the end. I don't think he meant it, but it's a telling comment/joke nonetheless.

It's impossible for me to listen to this album without the above paragraph of context. Brighten The Corners is a sharp departure from the excess and variety of Wowee Zowee, and while I don't think it was an attempt to become a huge popular band that would save rock, it must at least have been an attempt to do something wholly different from their last. For that very reason, it's my least favorite Pavement album, and in many ways, I think it's their least interesting both to listen to and talk about. You may have noticed how much time I've given to everything about the album other than the music, and that's done half intentionally and half not so. I simply don't feel like I have much to say about the album; after a listen or two, its strengths and weaknesses feel self evident.

There are three things I want to point out, and they each involve two song pairs. The first is that 'Stereo' and 'Shady Lane' are among the best Pavement songs ever, and that they begin the album and were the sole singles from it is significant. Secondly, this album is the showcase for Spiral Stairs. Though he only contributes two songs, they are probably his best--with all due respect to 'Kennel District.' 'Date With Ikea' is a great, classicist rock/pop song with Kannberg's unpretentious vocals to make it deeply hummable, while 'Passat Dream' is one of the most unique pieces of the Pavement discography, with a danceable drum beat and a psychedelic backdrop of guitars, keyboards, and "ooh-woo-woo-ooh-ohh" vocals. Lastly, the album closes with the one-two punch of 'Starlings of the Slipstream' and 'Fin', two songs that both have that distinctive "this is the song that closes the album" feel to them. They always throw me off because I don't expect 'Fin' until it starts because 'Starlings' has such finality to it.

Actually, I lied, I have one last thing to say about the album. I'll try to make this quick because I don't have any evidence to back this up. Rather, this is just a matter of feeling: Brighten The Corners doesn't feel like a Pavement album to me. I say "feel" but I also mean "sound." I'm trying my best not to be vague, but there is simply something a bit off about the whole thing. Something in the production, the way the songs sound, how the instruments work with the lyrics, the general vibe of the whole thing...People like to give Terror Twilight guff for being a proto-Malkmus solo album, but if it is, at least it sounds like the other Pavement albums. Listen to Brighten The Corners before or after their other ones. All Pavement albums have a unique vibe and sound, but--again, apologies for being vague--there is something off about Brighten The Corners.

Though Brighten The Corners is my least favorite Pavement album, it also proves how good least-favorite-albums-by-one-of-my-favorite-bands can be. It's the sort of thing like Bossanova by the Pixies where I always forget how much I enjoy it until I make myself listen to it again. I look forward to the deluxe reissue of Brighten The Corners in order to help me get a better understanding and possible appreciation of this (kind of) undiscovered era of Pavement. Until then, know that Brighten The Corners is worth a listen for fans, but only after you've heard everything else. While it may seem I am being a bit harsh on something I admittedly like, I listen to it the least of any Pavement/Malkmus albums, and that should say more than all the words I just rambled out.

Video: Pixies- Dig For Fire/Allison

I'm sure that somebody will immediately come out and prove me wrong, but off the top of my head, the only time I can think that a band directly linked two videos was the Pixies with 'Dig For Fire' and 'Allison.' Before I had even heard or heard of the Pixies, I happened upon this video late night on MTV once while in junior high. I didn't so much like the songs, but something about the juxtaposition of the two songs and the way the two videos were tied together worked for me.

In 'Dig For Fire' we see the band suiting up in leather, then jumping on motorcycles for a psychedelic/dreamy travel sequence. They arrive at their destination, putting in earplugs and going into a stadium looking building...



..only to reveal that, yes, this is a stadium, and they're here to perform 'Allison' in the empty middle of the field.

Personally, I prefer the video (and song) for 'Here Comes Your Man', but I like the concept behind these two paired videos better. I often find myself wondering what happens to the characters after a music video/novel/videogame ends, and in the case of these videos, you get to find out where they're going.