There was no indie band more influential, inimitable and prolific than 1987-91 Pixies. They perfectly mixed the mundane and the profane, the farcical with the galactic, served up depraved powerpop in viscera-dripping, three-minute gobbets. Which is why it was so disappointing when 2010s Pixies abandoned that velvet menace for professional competence on Indie Cindy, Head Carrier and Beneath the Eyrie.
Trailed by their best single in years, Doggerel finds happier concord between conventional rock arrangements and Pixies’ twisted tropes (necromancy, hallucinations, Neil Young). They lose their punkier edge without seeming over careerist. Still, it’s no coincidence that the single, the lupine There’s a Moon On, is the rawest meat on the menu, a thrilling take on classic 50s rock.
