The statement was long a
figure of speech in the
indie rock world. Your
ex would grow up, your
garbage disposal would get fixed, your
band would get signed "when the
Pixies get back together". In other words, when hell freezes over.
Frank Black (Black Francis, Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV) was quoted: The Pixies might reunite "if I were
penniless or a family member needed a
kidney transplant," (2003,
Rolling Stone). The odds of the Pixies getting back together were seen as marginally better than the odds of
Lennon and
Harrison rising from the dead to play
Monkees covers on tour with
their (arguably) living bandmates.
As of late 2004, the band that earned the respect of virtually every
rock musician in the world but which had through the nineties managed to retain "sub-pop" status is touring. In fact, they've toured much of the
United States and
Europe, and are (if the example is helpful) selling out
D.A.R Constitution Hall in
Washington, D.C. three nights straight this December.
There's some sketchy talk of a new
album. The potential release of a new Pixies album carries many considerable implications, not the least of which would be the simultaneous
orgasmic death of thousands of
balding,
potbellied, shirts-still-too-small early-thirtysomething
indie rockers worldwide. The rest of us would probably just be very pleased.