The Pixies + Rain Machine - Hult Center (Eugene, OR; Nov. 14, 2009)

I’ve never met an album that didn’t change for me somehow. Now, they can go up and down the scale in either a positive or negative direction, but there isn’t one that escapes a reframing of sorts somewhere along the line. For some albums, time is the perfect vindicator. The album is revealed as a master stroke and the audiences’ initial conceptions are what become tarnished. Other times, what was once golden falls into disrepair, looking like an old sack of potatoes, stripped of its luster and banished to the bin. This state of flux is part of what makes music appreciation so interesting/great over a long period of time. And after years and years of constant attention paid to the tower of song, it’s hard not to be impressed when you revisit an album that has reached its 20-year anniversary and it’s still as dynamic and compelling as ever. The Pixies’ Doolittle is one of those albums, and on Saturday night, we paid homage to it and all its glory.

When I got to the Hult Center (which for you local readers looks like the Schnitz a few sizes smaller), the kids looked a mix of eager and restless. Security guards were shooing off on-comers from the floor entrance and telling the people with big bags to put them back in their big back seat if they wanted to get in. But the faces didn’t sour, they just talked and went for the doors when they swung open.

The opener ended up being Kyp Malone’s (TV on the Radio’s guitarist/vocalist) solo project, Rain Machine; a band that gets a lot of ink because of the affiliation, and intrigued me as well. When they came out, the first thing that struck me was how cool Kyp looked rocking his giant afro and beard. His look alone gives him stage presence even if (as I would come to find out later) his actions don’t. The set began slowly with a song that focused on atmosphere rather than fireworks. And I don’t mean slow in a “they sucked early but got better later” way; I mean slow, as in a calm tempo. It drew hand claps, but didn’t raise anybody from their seats.

The right hand in this equation was the keyboardist/background vocalist Heidi Ferrell, who added lift to Kyp’s words and cut through the instrumentation like a well sharpened knife. The music that she sliced through wasn’t too far removed from some of the tracks on Dear Science, with its polyrhythmic qualities and world influences. Kyp gave everything swirling around him a vocal treatment that spent most of its time in the higher ranges, working its way up to falsetto before (at times) evolving into something reminiscent of a bird call. Sometimes it sounded like his voice was going to break apart into a million tiny pieces, only to be reigned in at the last possible moment. It was this weird fusion of confident experimentation and loneliness and I found it to be appealing right up until he left us.

Next up was indie rock’s sacred cow, The Pixies. This was my first Pixies show, so I was ecstatic. And a quick look around revealed the happiness in peoples’ faces from floor to upper balcony. It was palpable and it was contagious. When they came out, we all lost it. There they were, on stage and ready to play their best album, for us! It was thrilling, and I think they knew it.

The first four songs were Doolittle b-sides, each given an intro of “b-sides!” or “more b-sides!” charmingly delivered by Kim Deal. The opener “Dancing The Manta Ray” was a vision in silhouettes. Every once in awhile a golden light would illuminate a band member for a short burst but then it would fade, leaving you alone with the bodies that surrounded you and the repeated calls for dancing. The song was followed by more darkly lit songs, taking the form of “Weird At My School,” “Bailey’s Walk,” and “Manta Ray.” They all elicited a favorable response from the crowd, but no cannon-shot roar like during the stage entrance. That all changed though during the 5th song, when the word DOOLITTLE flashed upon the screen and that iconic guitar riff from “Debaser” ripped into our eardrums with the same reckless abandon that defines the verse’s vocals. Suddenly the room was filled with voices, like the best karaoke bar in town was having an all-Pixies night and everyone wanted a piece of it. And it didn’t let up until the end of the show. These people knew the words and they wanted to show it, and be involved, and dance, and throw up their arms wildly. This is what rock concerts are made of. This is how you celebrate a friend. And Doolittle deserves it, and The Pixies do too. Not just for creating a beautiful (slightly sinister) piece of art, but also for being able to deliver such soul-charging performances this far into their career.

After the explosion that followed the last notes of “Debaser,” they started to work their way through the album from the tortured screams of “Tame” to the surf-infused suicide romp known as “Wave of Mutilation.” By the time they got to “Here Comes Your Man,” the crowd was in a frenzy and that song pushed them over the top. And it’s easy to roll your eyes a bit at widespread love for the pop number, but what I want to know is: how can it be wrong to like something so well-written? It was another big sing-a-long that probably floated up to the top balcony in waves as the band’s faces were projected onto a big screen behind them. 

Quick detour, let’s talk about the stage set-up. It consisted of 4 giant orbs that looked like they were scaled-up origami triumphs and the screen that I mentioned earlier. The orbs typically hovered near the rafters, getting juiced up with multi-colored lights and occasionally descending towards the floor, taking up their new shape as a diagonal line. The screen on the other hand changed from song to song. On “La La Love You” it became a knowingly corny (much like the song) display of hearts running from one side to the other, while on “Dead” it became a red-dominated, overexposed band camera. That song rocked by the way.

Overall, their set-up added a visual boost to a band that mostly stayed put. Of course, you could see the passion in Black Francis’ face when he damn near said anything and Kim was full of smiles, completely engaged in the moment, but there wasn’t much movement. For instance, Joey Santiago just stood there and let the guitar do the work. I’m not knocking that approach, it’s just how it was. And let me say this, put Joey’s guitar lines up against most people in the business and he’s going to sound better than a lot of them. Part of that is because he chose to write/play melodic lines instead of just showing off. He serves the song, instead of himself and somewhere within that frame of mind he came up with enduring guitar parts and sonic textures.

But there was no need for those textures on powerhouse anthems like “Monkey Gone To Heaven,” where Kim’s vocals are all the song needs to feel brilliant. Matched up against Black Francis, and the crowd for that matter, screaming about how God is 7, it might have seemed like a foregone conclusion, but to me, it’s her additions that make the song all that it is. And, as good as that song was, “Hey” was the best of the night. I know I’m biased because that probably is my favorite Pixies song, but when it was all said and done, this was the show stopper. The screen helped out by flashing the song’s undulating words for those that truly wanted this to be Pixies karaoke night and couldn’t find their lyrical bearings. Thanks, but no thanks screen, we’ve got this covered. So, there we were, all singing about whores and what the lady said to the man, until the word ‘chained’ appeared on the screen along with the appropriate accompaniment of chain links. But no one felt chained here. We were free and last night, “Hey” crowned itself king of the mountain, at least in my eyes.

Sadly, all albums, even great ones, have to end. And for those keeping score at home, Doolittle ends with “Gouge Away.” By the time, they started it up, I was battling a momentary bum-out session, knowing that my trip through the land of Doolittle would soon cease to be. I decided to take comfort in the fact that this was a once in a lifetime show and my iPod still had me covered on the studio version. That’s what they call one of those good problems.

Once the song ended, The Pixies assembled at center stage and the audience screamed out their thanks. They took a big bow and waved to the people before leaving, but the crowd wasn’t having any of that. Stomping, hollering, and whistling ensued and became what was some of the loudest crowd noise I’ve ever heard until the band came back and did their bidding. More songs Pixies, more songs!

They started up again by doing the UK Surf version of “Wave of Mutilation”: a dreamy take on the song that sounds a lot more like the waves are lapping at the hull of the boat instead of mutilating it. The mutilation was still with us though, and would come next as whoever was in charge of the fog machine kicked that sucker up to 11 and flooded the room with smoke. And yes, the room, not the stage. It looked like a baby volcano and it signaled “Into The White.” A dizzying splash of strobe lights blinded me as I inhaled the fog and listened to Kim repeating “Into the white” until my mind felt a bit foggy as well. It was a serious change of pace from the Doolittle section of the show and everyone seemed to love it. When it was over, they left again, returning shortly after more thunderous applause for the second (and final) encore.

They gave us three more songs, including two that everybody could get behind, “Where Is My Mind?” and “Gigantic.” Each song was a fitting tribute to what makes this band so great and the same crowd that had been rocking during song one, still held those same feverish impulses. There was dancing everywhere, there was singing everywhere, devil horns were thrown up, and the best part is, beginning to end, everyone was happy. And that’s a beautiful thing.

So, what more is there to say after a phenomenal show, but go see it for yourself? Take in some of the energy, go revisit a classic album, go bond with strangers through music, and go sing your heart out. It’s worth it, you’ll love it, thank me later.

DOWNLOAD: The Pixies - Debaser (Live In Madrid '90) (MP3) or Follow us for more The Pixies MP3s (Twitter)

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