It was arguably the most anticlimactic breakup in the history of rock 'n' roll: death by fax machine. The Pixies were fresh off their thankless opening slot for U2's "Zoo TV." On New Year's Eve 1992, Frank Black faxed the band's management with alert of the breakup. Days later, he announced the split live on BBC Radio 5.
But in their posthumous years, the Pixies sold more records and gained more fans. And for that reason, a reunion was unlikely (given the band's tension) but inevitable.
Tuesday night's sold-out show at DAR Constitution Hall was the first of a two-night stand. The reunion found the band older, balder and wider. Black's screams weren't the same (to be expected with age), but his Spanish was still spot-on. Kim Deal's voice wasn't the same either (to be expected from years of chain-smoking), but "In Heaven" and "Gigantic" sounded as sweet as ever.
Opening the night was the power-pop of the Bennies, from Northampton, Mass., and the marginal garage rock of New Zealand's the Datsuns. And opening for the Pixies went as unappreciated as opening on the "Zoo TV" tour. The former played to an empty, trickling-in hall, and the latter played an uninteresting set to a rightfully uninterested crowd.
The Pixies emerged at 9:15 and quickly tore through a set filled with stories of incest, Biblical sagas and 10 million pounds of sludge from New York and New Jersey. They played the usual covers - "In Heaven (Lady In the Radiator Song)" from the film "Eraserhead," "Head On" by the Jesus & Mary Chain, and "Winterlong" by Neil Young. The classics were all there, like "Wave of Mutilation" - a nod to the relationship between Charles Manson and the Beach Boys. But oddly absent from the set was their latest cover, "Ain't That Pretty at All" by Warren Zevon, recorded for the fallen troubadour's tribute album, "Enjoy Every Sandwich." The only original Pixies song recorded since the reunion - the iTunes exclusive "Bam Thwok," which was recorded (and rejected) for the "Shrek 2" soundtrack - was also missing.
Unfortunately, the Pixies were immobile throughout the set, like the animatronic robots at Chuck E. Cheese that sing "Happy Birthday." The set would have played like a jukebox, had Black not changed some of his lyrical timing on songs like "Where is My Mind?" (Maybe he was out of breath.)
The only movement came from Joey Santiago, the man who redefined what it meant to play lead guitar on "Surfer Rosa," during "Vamos," when he transformed his Les Paul into a theremin, altering the pitch five feet away with a drumstick waved as if it were a magic wand.
Save for the occasional "thank you," the only crowd interaction came before the encore. Drummer David Lovering (who spent his post-Pixies years as a drummer for Cracker and a failed magician) teased the crowd, grabbing his wrists in pain as if he could play no longer. Only the applause of the crowd could convince him to go on.
But something was missing on Tuesday night, and the exhilarating thought of seeing the Pixies live, a band so unique, so influential and so rocking, wasn't comparable to actually seeing the Pixies live. It was as anticlimactic as that fax from 1992.
