CONCERT REVIEW

Pixies
Aragon Ballroom
Chicago Illinois

Story by DOUG HORCH
Photos by BRIAN MALCOLM

If the first time that you heard them was in this century, you are probably safe. For the rest of us who remember budding into our wonderful teens with the Pixies, it is a little strange to finally see them live.

Don’t get me wrong – I think they were great and they ruled the Aragon on Monday night, but the Pixies I knew and grew into teendom with were underground, not selling out five nights in a row. They were what gave Christian Slater underground cred in “Pump up the Volume.”

I was on the cusp of self awaking that happens when you’re 15, and the Pixies (like so many other great bands – Dinosaur Jr. reunion, anyone?) gave me an alternative to the Whitney Houston of my parents. This was music that could say what I could not. Just knowing about the Pixies made you cool with the right people, not to mention Kim Deal could kick Whitney’s ass.

In some ways, the best part was my parents didn’t like it. Therefore the Sub-Pop of my teens gave my rebellion not so much a cause, but some great melodies – songs that are indelibly linked to epic memories.

And that is the part that was mildly disturbing at the show. It was nostalgia! I loved the show! I loved getting sweaty and shoved around in the pit, just like in the good old days. The problem is I’m only 28! I’m not ready for nostalgia.

The Pixies are a guilty pleasure for all of us Xers who’d secretly like to go back, to smell the teen spirit one more time! I know why the Pixies were up on that stage. They, with great wisdom, were cashing in on our Nostalgia! Why else play five gigs in a row? They were giving us exactly what we want, why else would they play Gigantic a second time for the encore?

Black Francis, drunk as he was, knew it as he piddled out the intro to “Here Comes Your Man” on his acoustic guitar. In one of the few times he actually looked the adoring crowd in the eyes he did it with a big black sarcastic sneer on his face, as if to say, “Here’s the stupid song you’ve been waiting for.” And we ate it up! The question should have entered into every guilty heart right then, “Isn’t this just how my parents would act at the Whitney Houston show?”

When Nirvana inadvertently unearthed the rich grungy underground of the ‘90s, they alienated a certain fan base who felt Nirvana had sold them out, had opened up the doors of the counter culture coolness we had labored with such angst to obtain. The point is that if I really thought that the grunge thing sold us out, then why the heck was I into the four sell outs on stage? Does that make me a sell out too? When did rock get so complicated?

I’m glad for one thing, that as we grow up the militant coolness of youth loses it’s grip, whereby we can come to appreciate a pixies reunion. Even if they are in it for the cash, they still love the fans, probably just as much as Phil Collins loves our parents, and their cash.

Listen to new music.

The Bad Plus, who opened for the Pixies, were phenom! They were a big fat wad of talent and energy. And don’t sweat the nostalgia; we will be justified when all the younger sell outs come out to play for the Jay-Z fade to grey tour!