The Pixies At Tsongas Arena In Lowell, December 2004.

The fucking Pixies had been removing and cleaning out the heads of everyone you
knew that year and now they were coming to your school. Doolittle was your Sgt.
Pepper’s, the album after which nothing would be the same, the album that would
spawn a thousand imitators, most of them very poor." - Dave Eggers, SPIN Magazine.

There have been some recent miserable moments when I've felt like my youth is truly over. People have slowly gotten married, moved away or otherwise disappeared - and it seems sometimes like our dog-tired glory days have finally crawled to a close. But I looked up at one point this past Wednesday night... and I was with a group of close friends who hadn't been assembled in the same place for many years... and the goddamn Pixies were playing on stage in front of us! I very much felt like Juan Ponce De Leon had just handed me a can of his magical water and forced me to do a shotgun at swordpoint. The years melted away and I was suddenly back in the front seat of my '79 Chevy Malibu station wagon - blaring Surfer Rosa after the football game, on the road to some keg party in Concord. And it was glorious. And I shouldn't have been driving.

I grew up with the guys and gals who surrounded me at Tsongas, and the soundtrack of our young lives was that very same incomprable quartet from Boston. In the car, at the party, on the beach, in the woods - The Pixies were there with us every step of the way. And like old friends who'd vanished without a trace, we never thought we'd see their like again. All of a sudden there we were, and there they were, and it's hard to describe - but we all looked at one another, high-fived, hugged, smiled and realized the gravity of what was taking place. As overdramatic as that must sound to the uninitiated, the concerts in Lowell last week were a special and memorable time for all of us, and we'll be talking about them for years to come.



If you're looking for a setlist or painstaking recount of either concert, Have a look here. There are uber fans on FrankBlack.net that make me look like I slept through both shows - across the street in the back of a car. I went both nights, with a group of about 15 high school friends on Wednesday and my buddy Adam (or the violent gay biker from Halloween as you may remember him) on Thursday. We all met at the Lowell Brewing Company Wednesday night and on the top left you can see Jim, me, Nate, Joanna and Mike gearing up with anticipation and liquor. We headed over to the Tsongas arena around 9:30 to catch the last few songs of the Mission of Burma set. On the upper right you can see PJ in his Nanook of the North jacket, and Ryan plotting the best way to sneak a bottle of SoCo into the venue. Some things haven't changed. And never will.



After an aggressive pat-down and camera confiscation threat, we got inside and heard the first strains of Burma's classic 'That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate'. Burma rocked like 19 years hadn't passed since the last time they toured, and the crowd graciously pretended to know who they were. Let me make a quick comment regarding the abundance of the audience - they were awful. We gathered in a section of the seats because the floor/rink was tightly packed by this time, and were shocked to see the vast majority of people remain seated as the Pixies took the stage and broke into 'Heaven - The Lady In The Radiator Song'. Seated. A few songs and several whiney 'please sit down and don't hurt me' requests into the concert, the 5 rows behind our group were empty as the Johnny-come-lately 20-something hipster 'fans' realized we'd be standing and getting rowdy for the duration. Shame on you people - bring some opera glasses next time to complete your fucking experience.



Jim and Janet pose proudly for a picture above - we all had the biggest shit-eating perma-grins on our faces from the first moment we entered the arena. But some of our grins were enhanced by hydroponics as our crew smoked several different types of plant life throughout the concert. We also screamed, danced, drank and simply horrified most of the people sitting in our midst. A sort of 'real fan vs. poseur' mentality developed which worsened our behavior. I did, however, catch a few people smiling in our direction and spoke to some younger guys nearby who were enjoying our energy. I don't know, however, if they enjoyed my screamed rendition of 'Caribou' visible for posterity on the upper right.



Among the highlights were a slowed down and dirty 'Crackity Jones', an extended version of my very favorite 'Number 13 Baby' and a smoking fast and thunderous 'Something Against You' (which you can see PJ air-guitaring above) that still has my head banging 3 days later. They encored with a superb 'Where Is My Mind', the lights came up and we went back to the brewery a happy band of Pixies punters. The photo on the right was taken shortly afterwards, and you know it's been a memorable night when the designated driver (me) is making a face like an elderly vagrant pressed up between the bars of a protective custody cell. But rest assured, it's Diet Coke induced. I got the also pictured Peter and Adam home in one piece. Well, two pieces actually. They were separated thanks to an innovative medical procedure last year.



Thursday night I went with Adam, who was mistaken 17 times for the former bassist from Queens of the Stone Age - but I think that suited him just fine. We rolled in and got great seats to the left of the stage but again - everyone was sitting down! Who the fuck are you people? We wandered out on to the rink, barrelled our way through the throngs and got pretty close to the stage. We stayed there bobbing and weaving for the rest of the set, and the two concerts ended up very different experiences as a result.

I still have this Thursday's Boston proper date at Avalon to cover, so I'll wrap this up for now. It's my birthday this week, and I'll have ended up seeing the Pixies 3 times in 8 days. That fact is making the dawn of my 31st year just a little more palatable. Unlike Tsongas Arena fried dough. Who am I kidding? I love that shit.