This Magazine Staff
To the hockey arena at the Universite de Montreal last night to see the Pixies’ holy-shit-we’re-broke tour. The slight hint of Spinal Tap that was in the air turned into a sneering insinuation when the Datsuns took the stage, three extra-skinny dudes in tight jeans, big hair, and serious post-zeppelin power rawk. Thanks to amps turned up to 11, the Datsuns’ set was like a trip to the spa: exfoliatingly loud guitars and bowel-cleansing infrasonic bass drums.
Then the Pixies came out, all four members now fat and/or bald. Kim Deal was in her best Walmart outfit, Frank Black in tiny Morpheus shades.
Deal’s mic stand was placed as far stage right as she could get and still be reasonably considered part of the show. It looked like she wanted to be as far from FB as possible, though that may have been simply an attempt to remain outside his gravitational pull. The man can rock, but he’s now the size of a small moon.
Anyway, they ripped through pretty much their entire catalogue, like one long continous song. It was great — lots of strobe, a bit of smoke, and plenty of screaming from Frank Black. Deal looked bored out of her mind, and spent most of the show chatting with the drummer. Her voice still makes me melt.