The Pixies Close Out Outlaw Field’s Summer Concert Series, Reminding Us Why We Still Love Them
It’s hard to imagine a universe in which The Pixies didn’t exist. Even reading “formed in 1986” on their short Google bio seems inaccurate. Formed? Are you sure? I could’ve sworn all those pithy lyrics, sly basslines, and bombastic guitar riffs had always been there. The Pixies are, without argument, a cornerstone of modern alternative rock music. They are the knowing smile from the record store clerk, the complimented t-shirt at the club show, and your favorite band’s favorite band. This past Monday, joined by Cat Power and Modest Mouse, Black Francis and friends reminded us why there has, seemingly, never been a time when The Pixies weren’t floating in our atmosphere.
Before the crowd at Outlaw Field in Boise, Idaho, could be carried away on the soundtrack to their misguided youth, they needed to be brought down to earth, which is exactly what Cat Power did. The singer-songwriter’s unassuming facade of ripped jeans and combat boots quickly gave way to weighty vocals that were somehow luscious and ephemeral all at once. With her band in a tight semi-circle around her, Cat Power flowed through her set like a 1960s jazz diva— each song seamlessly transitioning into the next with impromptu audience banter. At one point, the singer dispatched her photographer to hand stickers out to young audience members. “Anyone too young to have a job,” she exclaimed while referring to her newfound fans as “big strong babies.” Although the set mainly consisted of covers, everything Cat Power sang was inexplicably hers. As she left the stage with profuse gratitude, it was obvious that the audience was just as thankful for the experience.
Proverbial Idaho favorites Modest Mouse hit the stage with a fierce intensity. Lead singer Isaac Brock’s distinct vocals are as crisp as ever, with every lyric brandishing a biting edge. Although the prodigal sons of Pacific Northwest alt-rock have officially become elder statesmen, their appeal is still universal. Their audience spanned from older millennials sharing their favorite band with their kids to young twenty-somethings awaiting the perfect song for a quiet back-row proposal. While their set fluctuated between Brock ferociously playing guitar riffs with his teeth and folk-inspired banjo ballads, with stops along the way for radio hits like “Float On” and “Lampshades On Fire,” the band never stopped sounding like Modest Mouse. Although they left the stage with a brief “thank you and good night,” no one was unsatisfied.
When a band like The Pixies, with over three decades of history, music, and lore behind them, step onto a stage, it will either be spectacularly good or incredibly bad; there is no middle ground. When you’ve survived long enough to become otherworldly, you either rocket to the moon or crash to Earth. As they closed out Monday night’s show in the dark shadow of the Boise foothills, The Pixies sent us all into orbit. From their first cords, it was evident that the group wasn’t going to contort themselves to attract a new audience. They were more than happy to sit back and let them come, and they did. Some in the crowd were there for Cat Power and others for Modest Mouse, but everyone stayed to see The Pixies.
With an overabundance of cult favorites and sleeper hits, The Pixies have never lived in their B-sides. Their set was a healthy mix of widely known hits and less obvious album cuts. Black Francis's delivery vibrated with an obscure coolness that rang through the rest of the group. The intimate juxtaposition between the band’s debauchery-tinted lyrics and sweet-sounding backing vocals was well interpreted. Their high-energy set never faltered, ending with a rapid-fire round of the group’s most popular songs, including “Where Is My Mind?” and “Here Comes Your Man.” Unlike other legacy groups, The Pixies aren’t attempting to reclaim who they once were. While they’ve accepted their place in the rock n’ roll zeitgeist, when Black Francis echoes, “Hey, been trying to meet you,” into the night air, a tiny spark of that Boston bar band is still there.
