Pixies
Complete B-Sides 1988-97
4AD
If you were born more than a toe-length away from the ’80s, mentions of the Pixies could be a red—or green—flag to keep a keen eye out for on your next first date. They seem to perpetually be closer to favorite-band’s-favorite-band territory than they are to having their T-shirts sold alongside those of Nirvana or David Bowie at a department store. In fact, Kurt Cobain claimed that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was a rip off of the Pixies’ formula for the their 1988 LP Surfer Rosa, and Bowie held a cover of “Cactus” from that album so close to his track list on tour in the early aughts that fans were disappointed when they didn’t hear the song’s familiar veil of distortion screaming through the monitors.
While their short, 4AD-fueled prime built the architecture of the loud-quiet-loud dynamic we continue to hear today in alternative rock and beyond, Pixies reached their steep, glorious end right as they defined their edge within the genre. But that’s mostly behind us; we’ve moved on (at least the band certainly has), bought new band tees, and stopped drinking beer at 1 p.m. (right?). Still, like pining exes reuniting with a lost love, Pixies fans can once again enjoy the band’s peak with the 25th anniversary reissue of Complete B-Sides: 1988-97. Originally released in 2001 after a decade-long hiatus, this reissue adds six additional live tracks from their Debaser era in addition to being pressed onto vinyl for the first time and remastered directly from the original analogue tapes by Kevin Vanbergen.
Sequenced chronologically, these 25 tracks neatly chart the band’s evolution from basement-born noise militants to extraterrestrial pop eccentrics. Starting strong is “River Euphrates,” wherein Joey Santiago’s guitar abuses your eardrums for a full minute before expanding into a dynamic, combusting finale; soon after, a live “Vamos” is proof that Pixies were terrifying on stage. Abruptly shifting gears into their Doolittle and Bossanova eras, the sonic palette begins to smoke with “Weird at My School” and “Dancing the Manta Ray,” both of which are hyperactive, psychedelic experiences spotlighting the band’s early predilection for demented cowpunk. Beyond those, other highlights include the Stones-y swagger of “Santo” and Kim Deal’s gorgeous, melancholic take on Neil Young’s “I’ve Been Waiting for You.”
The listener may get tossed around a lot on this collection, but all of it sounds as glorious and confident as if these were the hit singles from all those years ago. If you want to understand how a band could be so pop-focused yet so aggressively unhinged at the same time, this reissue is definitive proof that Pixies’ trash was purer than many of their peers’ gold. It’s an essential artifact of an era that took the poster children off the wall, drew on them with Sharpies, and laughed off the results.
