Death to the Pixies
A BLAST FROM THE PAST.... AN OLD E-MAIL!! Back before there were blogs!
Here it is:
some writing, people. let me know your thoughts... friday night
writing. something to help you pass the time. a little levity while
the flinstones are on..
&*&*&&&*&*
death to the pixies because this is what the pixies mean to me.
when i was younger than i already am, i was running with a crowd of
music hipsters. they were the coolest kids in school and my relation
to them was that i really got the music, but we would debate how cool
songs were and why and whether lyrics mattered or not and whether the
pixies were not the most incredible new sound we'd ever heard in our
young and ever younger lives.
my friend drew had a cottage around the bend from ours. his mother was
the minister or education for the province of manitoba, and this was
always the source of intense controversy because all of her children
attended at private schools - a sure sign of faith in the system that
she is responsible to make well for every class of person! and he was
a sweet guy. i heard he's now a teacher.
one day, this guy gave me a copy of the pixies because we were already
pals over jane's addiction and he knew that i needed to know about
this record. and it had nothing to do with the fact that this record
showed nudity on the cover (much like jane's).
and this music slayed me.
the pixies were the third cd i ever bought. the store was sold out and
i had just taken an hour-long bus ride to get to the store with my
leftover xmas money and... no pixies. comment peut-on tromper le
monde? so i bought the odds and soundgarden.
the next week i begged for money because i knew it was important and i
finally purchased my third cd, trompe le monde par les pixies. and i
listened to it relentlessly as though in that recording were contained
the secrets of the universe (or at least musical intelligence). i knew
those songs like the surfer rosa songs... like the back of my hand. i
knew every inch of them. every sigh, every word, every bassline, every
quirk.
as time wore on, i would keep my eyes peeled in the media for the
future developments of the members of the band.
i was excited by the concept of the reunion and that it was scheduled
to begin in winnipeg (i madly considered the option of going!), and of
course, it wound up starting in minnesota anyway so.. that dream was
kind of stillborn.
i have always kept a postcard of the surfer rosa record on a wall
everywhere i have lived since i bought it ten years ago.
the pixies were a ticket i could not afford last winter. so death to
the pixies, because i want to forget that they were ever there and
that i missed them! and death to the pixies because i didn't go and
see who would be there because that might have killed me.
*************
death to the pixies because that's all love ever was. and i don't need
to be reminded anymore of how softly and wickedly they would dance and
slither and dream and come through any doors any countries, twist
round any branch, take charge of any kind of endless fateless forever
where everything always turns out this way: lovely and wonderful and
everything joy.
please don't remind me about that.
i sang here comes your man every time i would sing for years? how crazy is that?
(don't remind me about that either.)
and when you told me that were at that show i missed (and am now glad
i did), i felt awful that you went and did not appreciate what you
were doing to me. and that made me feel sick,
but rather than be reminded of that,
i say, death to the pixies for they represent everything that i loathe
in the world!
************
it's wicked salvation and horrific illusion, a man-made creation of
contempt and confusion, a horrendous drunken darling delusion, an
ever-so-comfortless deep sweet intrusion.
it's you! it's you! it's YOU!!!
