Jen and I saw the Pixies last night, at Hammerstein Ballroom, and I don’t know what to say that won’t sound like a cliché, but I will say this: There’s still no band like the Pixies. The Datsuns opened for them, and despite how much the hipster kids love that band, they sounded anemic and dead in comparison.
I also thought the Pixies just looked funny when they came out. Kim Deal in her blue sweater, looking just like the cutest mom in the neighborhood. David Lovering and Charles Thompson like your weird uncles. Most surprising, though, was Joey Santiago–slim, handsome, and rocking that shaved head. He was hotter than all the string-haired Datsuns combined.
I don’t go to many shows, and I’ve only been to shows in small clubs lately, so I’d forgotten the power of a huge sound system blasting your body so hard you can feel the sonic. The Pixies were in my body as much as they were my head.
If you want a more coherent review, you might try this morning’s New York Times.