When Pixies announced that they were to play three gigs at Dublin’s Olympia Theatre to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Doolittle, it must be confessed, Connected joined in the country wide creaming parade. This album, this beast of an album that paved the way for 90’s rock as we know it, played in its entirety from start to finish… there’s no way we were missing this one.

Support tonight comes from Choice nominated Kilkenny multi-instrumentalist RSAG whose debut album Organic Sampler is a whopper indeed, if you haven’t heard it already you must have been on Mars for the past three years, in a cave with your eyes shut, and your fingers in your ears.

Songs like Talk Back Crawl Back and Bad Seed are delivered to a stonking response. Mr Hickey himself utters few words to the crowd but when he does his voice is calming and modest as a half full Olympia Theatre warm to his songs. Like Ian Curtis tripping balls while listening to Fugazi, Hickey blasts through Counting Down with impeccable accuracy, incorporating gas cylinders among other beatable devices into his one-man machine drummer set-up. Stick To Your Line gets the now almost full room moving on its feet. Certainly a few more fans picked up here…

After a twenty minute wait Pixies emerge from the smoke filled darkness with smiles and waves to warm the coldest of hearts. The audience response is deafening. Black Francis assures those that were present the night before that the black shirts that they have donned tonight are in fact fresh as a daisy. And thankfully so, as the man himself is still only three pies short of needing a forklift to aid his future stage arrivals.

“Bailey’s Walk” and “Manta Ray” are received well but it takes until the first chords of “Debaser” to send the crowd half daft. After a subtle mess up with the song ending Francis and Kim Deal exchange a few words about the next track. ‘I always enjoy playing this next one,’ he grins. ‘I find it very therapeutic.’ The beast opens up his vocals in angst-ridden fashion and “Tame” echoes through each nook and cranny of this old theatre.

The sound can’t be faulted tonight; it is shit loud and still quite clear. A focussed looking David Lovering gives the nod to Joey Santiago (who struggles to break a smile for the whole night) and
“Wave of Mutilation” ensues. After a few mumbles from Kim Deal and an anxious look from Francis who has the ‘what the hell is she going to come out with’ look on his face, she begins to pluck out “I Bleed”. The vocals are impeccable.

After “Here Comes Your Man” we get the low down on how one listen to “Monkeys Gone to Heaven” at Deal’s apartment convinced her to join the band. Following “Mr. Grieves” we are brought back to the mixing stage of Doolittle with Francis recollecting a Thanksgiving turkey cooked by Gil Norton at a haunted studio in Connecticut.

“Crackity Jones”, “La La Love You” and “No. 13 Baby” keep the hits train rolling along and a powerful vocal delivery on “There Goes My Gun” staples down the fact that this group of 40-something year olds can still deliver the type of performance we can associate with a band
still in their early days.

Music has gone through so many changes in the last 20 years and the way that these songs are received tonight is testament to the genius of Francis. Not only are the hardcore fans out in numbers tonight, but the pit at the front, in which 100 or so lucky souls bounce around in,
is speckled with teens and younger fans of the band singing their hearts out. Crowd participation is taken to a new level when “Hey” is bellowed out from the stage in front of us.

After treating us lucky souls to the second ever live-version of “Silver”, (the first being the night before) Pixies lash out the final song of the beast, “Gouge Away”. The encore consists of “Wave Of Mutilation” (U.K Surf Mix) and “Into the White” and that’s about it. They promised us Doolittle and that’s just what we got.

Despite all the shit music deals we are dealt on this small Island, Pixies kick starting this 15-date tour here really takes the joyful biscuit. After expecting a disjointed performance, perhaps some
awkward exchanges, (there were one or two but playful ones at best) Connected squeezes out with a new sense of hope for bands of old. Roll on the Pavement reunion!

Review: Steve Battle

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