The Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988)
I was introduced to The Pixies by way of the 2015 Thriller TV-series Mr. Robot. It used to slip the occasional melody of well known pieces into the background of pivotal scenes, in ways that might be considered spoilers to some, but I'd argue improved the viewing experience. Surfer Rosa is probably the best known album of theirs, if only for the inclusion of "Where is My Mind". I haven't gotten a very coherent impression of their band by just listening to some of their tracks, but they seem interesting.
This band is of course slightly before my time, and I've had less chance to absorb this genre through osmosis the same way I would have had for contemporary pop or even punk/metal, just because it's come up less. Still, I can usually appreciate this type of music for my own proclivities, and because it's far enough away from the music I play and practice on the daily.
Surfer Rosa is the debut studio album of the Pixies, produced legendary and dearly departed Steve Albini, and released under an indie-label 4AD. They had two previous albums, released not too far apart, so it's probably safe to say that they already knew what they were doing on the technical side.
Older albums tend to feel more cohesive as one project to me. The first few songs on this albums seem to be very preoccupied with bones as a bridging metaphor, up to about the middle of the album. Upon only listening, I'm not sure it's intentional though. Perhaps the songwriters just had bones in mind, or it carries some significance to one of the myriad rock genres the Pixies occupied. Checking the lyrics in genius.com makes me think it's perhaps more incidental than intentional, though there is a clear throughline of what I can only describe as "sexual disappointment", occasionally with a subsequent finding of a sunnier outlook afterwards.
The level of distortion used in the guitars, is similar to what I like to play myself when not practicing the things I'm really meant to be practicing, crunchy and with enough reverb to last for several bars after the last strum. The vocals, on the other hand, seem a little rough for my taste. That's actually the case for a lot of music of that genre, spanning up to acts like Bowie, Dire Straits and even some Beatles songs. I've learned to ignore it, as I'm sure it's really part of the charm of this music that is otherwise rhythmically polished and includes a lot of disparate guitar parts that play interesting harmonies and experiment with the noises an amp can make when you torture it enough. The rougher vocal quality is very unproblematic in my estimate, and does a lot to establish the genre. Still, my own enjoyment of crisp vocals of course puts mostly instrumental pieces like "Something Against You" or "Vamos" very notable, because even at first listen, I get to immediately focus on the instrumentals that take center stage, instead of needing a second listen where I explicitly ignore the vocals and the occasionally difficult to make out lyrics.
I was already well aware of this, but I really have a quite traditional way of listening to music, where my enjoyment derives perhaps a little too much from the understanding of the different parts. Sometimes the lyrics really aren't important. In "Tony's Theme" the lyrics feel barely coherent, and the chorus devolves into repetitions of the titular character's name, that feel more like barking toward the end. I think the idea of the song would have been perfectly well communicable without understanding the verses, as the childish self-aggrandizement that comes with the adrenaline of a new experience, or Cocaine, whichever is readily available.
In the end, "Where is my mind" is of course still most palateable to me, with my flawed instinctual listening habits, but I've found some affection for their instrumental and slightly more melodic pieces, such as "Cactus", "Bone Machine" and "Oh My Golly", though I could take or leave the outro, if I'm being frank. Even the grungier pieces like "River Euphrates" and "Gigantic" have enough stickiness to readily keep my attention. I don't think that after listening through the album a couple of times I can call myself a Pixies Fan, but perhaps more something along of a Pixies "Enjoyer", for what it's worth. Their style is certainly recognizable in later grunge and punk music, which probably affords them a large part of my admiration. Still, I think the experience makes me want to check out the rest of their discography, especially those parts that might have developed further down the line, to see whether their style ever got closer to the kind of music that I can instinctively get into.