Indie dynamics standard-bearers Pixies have been reunited for five years now, playing wave after wave of ballroom-size mutilation, and have somehow managed not to embarrass themselves. Sure, everything reeks of cash-in—selling a $495 vinyl box set, perpetually returning after frontman Black Francis breaks up and unbreaks up the band in interviews, or even this four-night stand playing their 1989 album Doolittle in its entirety—but it’s all been so cool and fun that no one seems to mind. As for tonight? It’s fucking Doolittle! You know, the record that has maybe the greatest thirtysomething mixtape love song ever (“Here Comes Your Man”), and maybe the greatest three-song segue ever (“Mr. Grieves” into “Crackity Jones” into “La La Love You”), and maybe the best proto-Nirvana college-rock riff ever (“Debaser”), and definitely the best future Bloodhound Gang punchline ever (“Monkey Gone to Heaven”). If you loved any sort of music with guitars in the ’90s, you probably loved Doolittle whether you know it or not.

Nov. 23-26, 7 p.m., 2009

This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on November 17, 2009

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