Doolittle - Pixies

Waves of mutilation... Hating blue-eyed chicks... Wanting to die... Being the son of a motherf**ker... Wishing there was no television... (and my favourite)... Wanting your girlfriend to send her wet dress into your prison cell... Welcome to the strange, deranged mind of Frank Black (or Black Francis as he was known back then), front man of the now defunct cult group, The Pixies who fizzled out (arguably) at the peak of their powers. Their impact on music in the following decade since their 1992 split was massive. More so that any band since, Led Zeppelin or The Beatles, The Pixies really did attack the music ...

After witnessing their stunning headlining set at this years Carling Leeds Festival I felt I had to have more albums by alternative rock legends the Pixies. The album I plumped for was 1989s Doolittle. Whilst I had heard very good things about this album I doubted it would come close to the brilliance of the wonderful Surfer Rosa LP. I was wrong. Throughout their career the Pixies are a band whos members mixed infamously badly. Whilst this does seem to have adversely affected their last two albums and ultimately lead to their demise (they're now re-formed) it has not led to any audible problems on this third album, Doolittle. In fact the Pixies unique yet ...

'Doolittle' represents the pinnacle of the Pixie canon; as good as the albums that followed this were, neither of them lived up to the above-and-beyond criticism standard set by this. There's not much to choose between this and its predecessor; whereas 'Surfer Rosa' was a teeth-bared, vicious, nasty piece of brilliantly noisy grit, 'Doolittle' is polished with a studio-pop sheen that lends a new dynamic to the songs; no less terrifying, but more spectacular. Take 'Debaser', for example; a bassline of pure melody starts, before chiming guitars and urgent, up-front drums crash in and burn through ...