Back when the Pixies first debased pop music with five stunning albums in five quick years, nobody could have known the lasting influence of the band that jabbed "loud-quiet-loud" into alt-rock's veins.
Now, two decades after the release of Doolittle, the band's most-applauded effort, a massive new art-rock retrospective called Minotaur serves as a monument to those fiery pop-punk recordings.
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Are You a Pixies Fan? Prove It and Win Signed Minotaur Box The pricey package, available for pre-order Monday, "is not for someone who hasn't heard the Pixies first," the band's singer and guitarist Black Francis wisecracks about the megabox set, which is the type of multi-format sonic artgasm that makes collectors drool.
Minotaur comes in two versions: a $495 limited edition and a $175 deluxe edition. Both include all five Pixies studio albums (Come on Pilgrim, Surfer Rosa, Doolittle, Bossanova and Trompe le Monde) on LP, CD, DVD and Blu-ray discs, plus a previously unreleased live recording and other extras. The limited edition, which comes in an oversize clamshell case and weighs more than 25 pounds, adds an art book and more. (Get details on the two editions.)
The always-productive Pixies front man embraces the objet d'art approach of Minotaur, but says people who aren't familiar with the band should download a few tracks to get a taste of the band's edgy alt-rock.
The group broke up in 1993, with its members going on to other musical pursuits, but the Pixies' influence on pop music is unavoidable. A band ahead of its time, the Pixies earned critical acclaim with a potent blend of Francis' howling vocals and surreal lyrics, bassist Kim Deal's sweet harmonies and a dynamic musical template powered by guitarist Joey Santiago and drummer David Lovering that became a model for bands like Nirvana. After a 2004 reunion, the Pixies have played live but not released any studio recordings.
Wired.com caught up with Francis' alter ego, Charles Michael Kittredge Thompson IV, by phone before his immortal band kicked off its 2009 tour at the Isle of Wight Festival on Sunday. He was quotable as usual, especially about Minotaur, the Pixies catalog, digital technology and how the econopocalypse has created what should be a $5 musical world.
Except for the $500 box sets, that is. (Want to win a signed copy? Enter Wired.com's Minotaur giveaway.)
Black Francis: So what are we selling today?
Wired.com: Minotaur. It's billed as a killer reintroduction to the band, but is the price prohibitive?
Francis: I have seen the prototype and it goes beyond sticking five CDs into a box. It truly has the presentation of a large objet d'art. It's not really a normal box set. It's very large, and of course has Blu-ray and vinyl, and there's a massive art book in it. My wife is an art history buff and we have a lot of books on our large coffee table, stacked up with books just like you see in the magazines. And those kinds of objects or whatever are not cheap.
Wired.com: Is it for new adopters?
Francis: The Minotaur is not for someone who hasn't heard the Pixies first. If that's what you're after, it might be more appropriate to burn it off the internet for free. [Laughs] The Minotaur is an art thing, and I support the price tag. They're not mass-produced; There are only around 3,000 units. There's a number plate bolted on the inside. There's a Willy Wonka thing going on.
Wired.com: Is this how the CD market can stay alive in the download age?
Francis: I got in trouble because I was recently quoted about the state of the music business, and I was saying it should be kind of a $5 world right now. Records and tickets should be cheap, given the overpricing of the recent years and the state of the world economy. But now, this box comes out and I feel like the biggest shithead in the world. But I'm not spinning it.
Wired.com: You didn't include B-sides and rarities.
Francis: There were questions about adding them, but I decided, no, these were our five big definitive statements. It's an over-the-top artistic statement, as far as [4AD graphic designer Vaughan Oliver] is concerned, and that's always been our manifesto. We don't need to water it down with bonus tracks.
Wired.com: No "Bam Thwok" for you!
Francis: It doesn't go with the Minotaur, which doesn't fit in a backpack. It has to be the art of the Pixies and, at the moment, that is five records, one of which is a mini-LP.
Wired.com: I'm still waiting for a studio version of "Boom Chicka Boom."
Francis: Apparently, we'll be playing that on our next tour.
Wired.com: You also decided against remastering those albums, which include some of Steve Albini and Gil Norton's best production.
Francis: Some people who know about records were frankly surprised that we weren't remastering them for added value, but we've been down that path before. We paid someone to remaster Doolittle and decided that it was slightly different and enhanced, but not necessarily better. Plus, the Pixies put a lot of effort into those records, and so did the people around us. Way back then, everyone worked hard; the only people who were a little stoned might have been the band. But that doesn't mean we didn't work hard: We just spent three times the amount at the studio. I stand by those moments and that time.
Wired.com: So you're sanguine on digital technology's ability to re-purpose the listening experience?
Francis: Just because you have some digital toys to play around with, don't tell me that you can make my record better than it was made. We're not stupid, and we weren't then. Digital technology will not bring my music out of the Dark Ages. Maybe there's some archaic information stored deep in the mix, but it's not like these albums were made in 1935.
Wired.com: You think remastering is a boondoggle?
Francis: Remastering is mostly a marketing thing, unless you're talking about people who were out of their minds and made something with errors in it. But our records are definitely not in that category.
The only one I might argue would be is Come On Pilgrim: It was recorded quickly for a grand in a cheap studio on the weekend. But everyone worked hard on that, too. It doesn't sound like we poured beer on it and said, "Here you go!"
Wired.com: Did you get the sense that you were making music worthy of history, and this artgasm, back then?
Francis: Every time you go into the studio to record something, you are competing with your favorite records in an artistic way. But you don't look down the road and hypothesize. If it has a certain pop to it, you joke about going to the Grammys.
But I'm too focused on the music part for that. I'm just not an intellectual giant. I'm lost in the moment, in the presence, like a fish swimming in a bowl.
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