Wave of Mutilation

Memories of touring with Pixies

Pixies were one of Yuck’s biggest influences, along with Dinosaur Jr., Teenage Fanclub, Superchunk, Built To Spill, My Bloody Valentine, Grandaddy, Wilco… and a handful of other bands. But Pixies were right up there. A lot changed for me when I first heard Pixies. They were hilarious, acerbic, irreverent, and masters of the two-minute-thirty-second pop song. I vividly remember listening to Surfer Rosa in the back of my mum’s car. Break My Body was my favourite song; the crack of Dave Lovering’s snare drum accelerating into Joey Santiago and Kim Deal’s discordant guitar and bass harmonies, and Black Francis’ vocal ringing out over the top like an air raid siren. I was so inspired that I ran up to my bedroom when I got home and immediately wrote what would become Get Away, one of Yuck’s first singles.

There is no doubt that Pixies are a fundamental part of Yuck’s DNA. That’s why it came as such a surprise when we received an email from our manager telling us that we had secured a support slot for six shows on their European tour. They had just released Bagboy, their first song in over 20 years. I thought it was an incredible comeback, but the public was slightly wary of the fact that they had returned without their original bass player, Kim Deal. As a Pixies fan myself, I shared that feeling of wariness, although we weren’t ones to talk, having just released our second album without our original lead singer. It seemed that both our bands were in a state of flux, and in my misguided 23 year old mind, I thought that might be something we could bond over.

The tour route was nice and relaxed, unlike the other European tours we were accustomed to, which mainly involved shivering in the back of a van for nine hours at a time. The band were playing ‘intimate’ venues, which were still very large by our standards. The tour started off with two shows at the legendary Paradiso in Amsterdam, then two shows in Berlin, and finally finishing up with two shows in Prague, plus a travel day in between each city. We were still very much getting used to our new lineup, with our newly appointed guitarist Ed Hayes recently joining the band. We had a few shows (and a lot of rehearsals) under our belts, but this would be our first real tour with our new lineup since the release of our second album, Glow & Behold.

The album had come out to mixed reviews. Some people liked it, some people hated it, but most people couldn’t really wrap their head around why we had bothered to release an album at all after our lead singer had left. Many people suggested that we should have released the album under a different name entirely. I was still trying to work out how I felt about that myself. My main rationale at the time was that this collection of songs was simply not a debut album. It was a sophomore album, through and through. It was written to follow on from our debut album. Releasing it under a different name felt instinctively wrong. And so, I had no choice but to soldier on, trying to let the criticism wash over me, although in retrospect, I was absorbing it much more than I realised.

The Amsterdam Paradiso is one of my favourite venues in the world. In the past, we’ve usually been booked to play the small 250 capacity venue upstairs, but today, we loaded our gear into the main 1500 capacity hall. It’s a former church with many of the original features, including stained glass windows behind the stage, and two upper levels enclosed behind ornate wooden balustrades. It’s one of those venues that sounds amazing wherever you’re standing, and you’re pretty much guaranteed a full view of the stage (unless you’re standing behind a very tall person, which is always a risk). 

There is a cliche that bands love touring in mainland Europe because they get treated better over there, and that is absolutely true. Gone were the broom cupboard backstage areas and warm cans of beer. One benefit of supporting a band much bigger than ourselves was that we were allowed to ride the wave of luxury (not mutilation) that we would never ordinarily have access to, including the catering provided every evening. One of the many stresses of being in a touring band is figuring out when and where you’re going to eat. Knowing that a good dinner was always going to be provided erased a level of anxiety, and helped me to focus on the various other anxieties constantly running through my mind at any given moment.

One thing I hadn’t accounted for was what I would actually do or say when I met the band. I never really know what to say when I meet my heroes. One instance of verbal diarrhoea occurred when we supported Dinosaur Jr., and the only thing I could think to ask J Mascis was what guitar he was playing that evening. ‘Same as usual,’ he replied. End of conversation. Although my heart jumped slightly at the sight of the Pixies logo on the dressing room door next to ours, I had to walk straight past it and head to the stage. The room was more full than I anticipated it would be. Jonny counted into Get Away and we launched into our set. However, I was suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment. Get Away is pretty much a carbon copy of Break My Body, and I was playing it in front of an audience of discerning Pixies fans. Surely they knew how much of a fraud I was. Luckily we only had to play for another 25 minutes, and then I could head up to the balcony to watch the masters at work.

They did not disappoint. They played through their back catalogue with the same ferocity I’d seen in the many live videos from the 1990s I had previously pored over on YouTube. They were older now, of course, but they were mature, confident, and masters of their craft. One thing that struck me as slightly odd was their absence of talking in between songs. They made a point of being completely silent when they weren’t playing, almost to the point of ignoring the audience entirely. I can’t remember if there was even a muttered ‘thanks for coming.’ Looking back, I’m not sure if this was a good or bad thing. It’s very rare that musicians are actually comfortable talking in front of an audience. I actually prefer when musicians are withdrawn, introverted, and visibly uncomfortable when they have to speak, as it reminds me that I’m not alone in my discomfort with public speaking. I find it slightly jarring when musicians give mini TED Talks in between songs. Some touring musicians deal with it by reeling out scripted lines every single night, designed to sound off the cuff, but coming across more like a best man’s speech at a wedding. Not speaking at all was definitely the preferable option.

Their new bassist, who was also funnily enough called Kim (Shattuck, who also played with The Muffs), was a welcome addition. However, I was aware of the distinct feeling of ‘something missing.’ I wondered if this was how Yuck fans felt when they were watching us perform. The highlight from their set was Velouria, my favourite Pixies song, from their 1990 album Bossanova (although my favourite Pixies album is Doolittle, followed closely by Surfer Rosa). During the set, Ed turned to me and said: ‘I’m so happy.’ I was happy too.

The great thing about playing two consecutive nights in the same venue is that you don’t have to load out after the show or load in the following night, which takes away yet another level of anxiety. We even had time to explore the city on the second day, which was something else we rarely got to do on our usual European tours. After the second and final show at the Paradiso, we had the entire next day to take a leisurely six hour drive to our next destination: Berlin.

The venue in Berlin was slightly less beautiful than Paradiso, but still much larger than anything we were used to. After a brief soundcheck, I wandered down a long backstage corridor to try and find our dressing room. As I rounded a corner, I suddenly found myself standing directly in front of Joey Santiago, who was sitting on a plastic chair, deep in concentration as he unscrewed the back of one of his guitar pedals. I introduced myself, and after exchanging pleasantries, I couldn’t help myself asking him a nerdy question about his guitar tone. ‘I really like that sort of… honky guitar sound, so I hold the wah pedal down half way and play a lot of lead parts like that.’ I hung on his every word like an excited teenager.

Watching Pixies play again that night (from the side of the stage, so I could watch what Joey was doing with his guitar pedals), I was distinctly aware of the separation between the four members. Not only did they not interact onstage, but I realised that I hadn’t actually seen them interact offstage either. When they left the stage before the encore, I watched them walk down the corrugated metal steps and go in four separate directions. After a few minutes, when the crowd began clapping and chanting the German equivalent of ‘two more songs!’ they gathered at the bottom of the steps again, water bottles in hand, and silently ascended to play a few more songs. After the last discordant note from Planet of Sound had been unleashed, they all gathered at the front of the stage, arms draped around one another, took a final bow, and left the stage for the last time, walking off once again in separate directions. Is this what being in a band is like after 30 years? Barely able to even look each other in the eye, just simply going through the motions?

In the catering area at the following show I had the chance to chat with Kim Shattuck. She was probably the most genial of the group, perhaps untainted by the level of success that Pixies had achieved. That’s not to say that the other members of the band weren’t also lovely people, which they certainly were. However, with Kim, I felt a sense of fresh-faced excitedness, which naturally comes with the territory of playing with a band who largely contributed to the sound of modern indie rock as we know it today. Perhaps other musicians might have adopted an ‘I do this all the time’ attitude at the idea of playing bass with a legendary rock band, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that Kim was as joyful as we were to be there.

As we loaded into the final venue in Prague, I felt saddened that this would be the final stop on the tour. Six shows didn’t seem like enough to properly get into the swing of things. Our sound guy, Sergio, was unable to join us for the show, so our tour manager had arranged for someone else to fill in. He had previously done sound for a well-known 80s goth rock band, who for some reason were now also currently living in Prague. After soundcheck, I came back to the dressing room to find all members of said band in our dressing room, helping themselves to our beer. As I got talking to them, it became quickly apparent how insanely coked up they were. After the show was over and the aforementioned 80s goth rock band had slinked away, we decided to go out and see what Prague’s nightlife had to offer. As I was waiting for our touring party to assemble in the venue’s foyer, I heard Jonny’s voice from behind me. ‘Hey, is it cool if Dave and Joey come along?’ Yes, it is very cool if Dave and Joey come along.

The promoter recommended a local bar a short walk away. We descended down a steep staircase into what looked (and smelled) like a dark cave, lit only by a neon beer sign behind the bar. We gathered round a large table and ordered several shots of very alcoholic green liquid. Sitting there with Joey Santiago and Dave Lovering initially made me feel slightly awkward, but as the night went on, the more comfortable I became, and the more I felt like we were all there together as friends and equals. I began to forget that I had listened to their music obsessively since I was a teenager, that without their music my life would probably have taken a completely different course. At some point, Dave took out a deck of cards and began performing magic tricks for us all. This attracted the attention of some of the other drinkers in the bar, and soon a small crowd had gathered around. Clearly, Dave was in his element. He seemed happy and at ease in a way he didn’t when he was backstage with the other members of the band. Perhaps this was his chance to forget about being in Pixies for a night.

The final show rolled around, and there was an amicable feeling backstage. It felt like the previous night had broken down some invisible barriers. There was still one member of the Pixies I hadn’t met, however. The elusive Black Francis, the primary songwriter and leader of the band. He was solitary, keeping himself to himself, avoiding other people at all costs. I would sometimes see him walking purposefully backstage, and I could definitely hear him doing vocal warmups every night, but I didn’t feel brave enough to approach him. As we were waiting at the bottom of the stairs to go onstage for the last time, I suddenly felt aware of a presence behind me. ‘Hey guys,’ said a familiar voice. The same voice I had heard a thousand times before saying ‘STOP’ at the beginning of Where Is My Mind, or ‘I said you fucking die!’ at the end of Oh My Golly. It was, of course, the voice of Frank Black, Black Francis, or whatever you want to call him. ‘I got some advice for you.’ We all looked up eagerly at him, like children waiting for the sage advice of a wise elder. ‘Nah, I’m just fucking around. I don’t really have any advice. Have a good show, guys!’ And that was my one and only interaction with Frank Black.

I felt slightly nostalgic watching the final Pixies show of the tour. For a brief moment, we got to see what it might be like if we achieved a similar level of success and notoriety. There were many good sides, of course; the catering, the tourbus, the long walks around Amsterdam, but there was also a slightly dark side. When you start a band when you’re young, it’s easy to think it might last forever. What would life be like if we were still in the same band in our 50s, and beyond? Would we even like each other? What venues would we be playing? The same old 200 capacity venues we had always played? Staying in the same old hotels and motels, sharing beds, then clambering into a splitter van for another 9 hour journey? That wasn’t how I imagined it would be. The big unanswered question I was left with after the Pixies took their final bow was: is this worth it?