BRILL BUILDING #4 by Ian Brill
The Pixies' “Bone Machine”
I was 14 years old and my Mom decided to take herself, my brother and I back to Dublin, Ireland for the summer. We would live with my Aunt Rosarie for most of time. Most vacations my family took were in vacation spots. Places like Orlando, Florida, where the roads are lined with endless streams of hotels and family-style restaurants. You go to the two or three amusement parks that keep the city's economy alive, and then sit in your room dreaming of how better it would be at home. This year though we were going to vacation in a city, hopefully to soak up some culture. I would soak up some culture, but not what was planned. Taking a break from it, I saw the American/Southern California culture I inhabited in a whole new light. There was no going back.
I was pretty serious about playing guitar at this age. A lot of kids pick up a cheap Fender guitar and learn a few Green Day songs. Soon, though, they tire of playing music and go onto other hobbies. Probably because my father is a guitar player I decided to stick with the instrument. At the time I was listening to the typical "alternative" rock at the time, 97.5 (now a smooth jazz station) which would play Bush, Alanis Morrisette and No Doubt all the time. I had a little hardcore punk thrown in to my mix. That was what was exposed me to more interesting music. SST CD's came with a big catalog that listed the bands and albums of all the other bands on the roster. Reading interviews in Guitar World magazine I found out that a lot of bands hailed the works of Husker Du, the Minutemen and the Pixies. So when my Mom said we could pick up a few CDs before the trip I knew what I was going to look for. I went to (keep in mind this was before I could drive, I had no choice in the matter) Best Buy and picked up Husker Du's Zen Arcade and the Minutemen's Double Nickels on the Dime. I couldn't find any Pixies, and I knew the people working there had no idea. So I bought what I had, but saved listening to them until after we got off the plane.
When we got to my Aunt's house I had a room to myself. A room that had its own CD player. I really hadn't anytime to test it out though; my Mom was too busy making vacation plans. There were rides on Double-Decker buses with tour guides cheerfully explaining the history of the capital city. I hardly listened; I was more interested to see how the place was different from SoCal. One thing is that the radio had much better taste in music. Instead of playing Glycerin for the hundredth time, they played the new Beastie Boys single before I heard it in America. Not that the Beastie Boys were obscure or anything. I liked the fact that a thoroughly terrible band like Bush (a name that means poor quality in all its forms) got no respect in the place it was from. I wondered what else was out there.
After a tour or museum or whatever, my Mom and Aunt treated my brother and me to a bit of shopping at HMV. I immediately thought that they would have some Pixies records. It was the British and Irish bands praising the Pixies anyway. Sure enough I found Surfer Rosa/Come on Pilgrim under the P section. I also picked up REM's Murmur, because at the time Peter Buck was the biggest influence on my guitar playing. My Mom actually offered a Beastie Boys CD, and seeing my Mom hold up the "Same Old Bullshit" CD as a treat was really funny, but I was on a mission here.
Finally I tested out this CD player and the CDs to go with it. I put on the Pixies CD, hoping I wouldn't get in trouble for having a CD with a topless woman on it. Granted it was an arty photograph, not the cover of some misogynist hair metal band's record album. My mind stopped all worrying as soon as the first song came on. A drumbeat started off the song, followed by some bass playing. Then a guitar lick that sounded like someone was playing it with knives for hands came in. A voice shouted out "This is a song for Carol!" Soon the guitars quieted down and lyrics like "you're so pretty when you're faithful to me" came in. A catchy chorus came in, but by this time I thought this is what the Beatles would sound like if they had been decapitated and then still forced to play. Throughout the song Black Francis would let a mighty scream that made it sound like someone was being murdered during the recording of the song. This song scared the crap out of me. I wanted more. Every song on the CD was good, but it was this first one that cut my brain wide open.
I listened to the other CDs. Zen Arcade was an album that have every possible type of song on it, yet remained melodic throughout. Bob Mould's scream was different than Francis'. It came from a place of pain. I was getting over my parents divorce at the time (am I over it?) and some of the songs I had to turn off before they were done. I couldn't take it. They were too close to home. I stuck with them though, and found them to be a cathartic exercise. This was also the nosiest pop music ever. The songs had riffs influenced by the Byrds and the Hollies (a 60's band I would have never found out about in the USA) yet they were played with the distortion up and at Minor Threat/Bad Brains tempos.
Double Nickels on the Dime featured 46 songs, so I never really got around to listening to the whole thing. I knew, though, that all the players were the best at what they did. D. Boon's Telecaster sounded great, spitting out fast little licks as the rhythm section of Mike Watt and George Hurley backed him up well. Hell, a lot of the time Watt's bass playing took the lead. If any bass player should, it was he. The lyrics were political as hell, and while I couldn't tell quite what they were saying, I knew it was important. The album came out in 1984; I wasn't really that politically active when I was one. Still, it imparted in me the idea that if someone in power wanted those without to do something for him (and it was usually a “him”) it was probably wrong. I would apply that vague little notion to the real world, especially now when the most evil person in the world illegally occupies the Oval Office.
Murmur was an album that I was already familiar with; alternative radio had played the song Radio Free Europe. But the radio couldn't draw me into a place with strange little pop/rock songs surrounded me like this album did. Every song was a catchy tune sung with inaudible vocals and great guitar playing. Funnily enough, Peter Buck would still be a guitar hero to me but after this trip my biggest influence was now Bob Mould. Mould was no doubt also an influence on Buck.
When I got back to America I had no time for the music that was popular, or the culture that came with it. The idea of walking around with bleach blondes in Billabong shirts made me sick. I pretty much concentrated on learning all the songs off Zen Arcade and singing like Black Francis. I found others who were interested in what I was, but the number of kids had to be five, tops. And I was the only boy.
Oh well, so my anger at mainstream culture, an anger based on my higher standard of quality that I had found out about, left me a bit for wearier in the world. Honestly, how could I not go through this world with out lyrics like
"You bought me a soda
and you tried to molest me in the parking lot
Yep, yep, yep, yep."
That would just be too unfair, right?
Purchase The Pixies "Surfer Rosa/Come On Pilgrim", Husker Du's "Zen Arcade", or Minutemen's "Double Nickels On the Dime" from Amazon.com.