I have to keep reminding myself that I'm going to Sydney next weekend to see The Pixies at the Opera House - and then I'll be seeing them again in Melbourne at the Forum a few days later.
So, I've got Surfer Rosa and Doolittle on repeat at the moment. Both of these are some of the best albums ever produced.
There is something amazing about locating a whole heap of older Gen-Xers in their band t-shirts, with their sensible shoes and glasses and bald spots and HRT patches going mental to Debaser, Bone Machine and Nimrod's Son.
However, I love The Pixies when they strip themselves back. Sure, they're know to rock on with the force of a bulldozer. In the words of David Bowie, nobody screams like Black Francis. Paz, the new bassist who took over from Kim Deal (and I say new, but she's been around for a few years now) is just super cool, but still look like the smirky niece hanging out with her uncles. Dave goes nuts on the drums and Joey is just too cool for school.
David Bowie says it all when it comes to The Pixies.
I think about what Wave of Mutilation normally sounds like. You get the entry tones of the base line... boom boom boom boom, boom boom boom boom, then the shriek of the guitar, then into Black Francis and his vocaals - and you know you're in for something special.
Recently, I discovered a cover of Wave of Mutilation by an artist called Rhett Miller - which is one of the best covers of this ever done. It's so much gentler.
And you have to remember that The Pixies are often covered. But then you see them do their own versions. Today's song shows what happens when they go acoustic.
Magic.
Yes, I'm a bit excited.
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