Cool as Frank Black.

Written by: Nilly Hankin

The Pixies: Brixton O2 Academy, London.

6,9.10.2009

Saw The Pixies in London. That's final – now it's mine forever. Even an army of 50 thousand gremlins couldn't take that away from me.

In 2009 Pixies celebrated the 20^th anniversary for the release of the album "Doolittle". To mark that occasion they embarked on a European tour which started in London. All the Brixton shows were sold out within one hour. The British appreciate high art.

The discreet charm of the Pixies is alluding. Whether it's the perfect riffs & melodies which sound as coming out of this world. Or the angelic voice of Frank Black, which stays that way even when he screams. Or the avant-garde surreal lyrics about such themes as aliens, gigantic organs or incest. Or maybe Kim. To me Kim Deal is not exactly a woman. She's just not perceived as one & has no age. That's why she attracts all ages & genders alike. Dandy Warhols had dedicated a song for her – "Cool as Kim Deal".

Brixton Academy is the perfect venue for a Pixies performance. A rather small place, keeping the atmosphere intimate & tenebrous. On the wall hangs the funniest sign in the world, forbidding stagediving.

I was impressed by the quiet & orderly mannered queue. People were gentle & housewarming. Me, with my bovine Israeli grace, squeezed to the head of the line like I was always there. During the show I was pushed & shoved so much that my piercings hurt, and I was wondering where has all the gentleness warmth vanished.

The setlist for all the shows was identical: Doolittle performed completely, including b-sides. A rather ambitious task to achieve, sustaining a full tour based on one album. The Pixies managed to hold it big time.

As a warm-up gig they booked a band called "The Big Pink". The greatest recollection I have from them is a beautiful Asian drummer in her panties.

The performance started with a back projection of Bonuel/Dali surrealistic movie "Un Chien Andelou". The song "Debaser", perhaps their most apt, is an homage to this film. Frank Black wrote a nonsense song mixed with insanity. During the famous creepy scene, when the actress eye is sliced with a blade, enter the Pixies. I could sense the scent of danger in the air.

It's beyond me how they manage to trip the audience up that way. They don't look like rock stars. They're not conventionally appealing. Some of them don't have much hair. Or waist line. They hardly talk between songs, apart from Kim, who's seems surprised with the audience over-zealous enthusiasm. People ignore the funny sign, security guards can't manage all the divers. Drunk kids scream "Kim marry me". For a second I saw myself in Kim's position & age. Brixton academy is packed with kids who adore me. No, not Brixton… Wembly… no, that's not enough too. Ramat-Gan stadium is not enough too... Not enough... no…

The band is at its best. Kim looks like a sweet hi-school girl next to somber Black. Joey nails it with his brilliant guitar. David flashes a show-within-a-show in his drum solos.

My personal best was "Here comes your man", during which a clip was back-projected, showing the band members making faces & Kim sneezing.

By the end of the show I was disappointed that it was only "Doolittle" and I didn't get the chance to hear other songs I love. But then came the encore & a twist – "Where is my mind" from "Surfer Rosa". At that moment the crowd completely lost its senses.

After the show I bought an official "Doolittle" mug, which I now use for all my drinks.

The fourth & final gig in the London tour was the best. That's how it usually goes with first & finals. Outside business was cheering. The scalpers sold tickets for 100 Pound, a very high price for tickets in the black market and the usual price for tickets in Israel.

I ran into Kaiser Chiefs bassist, Simon Rix. A shy guy with curly hair, searching after a ticket for his beautiful girlfriend. They were both very charming. I couldn't believe he was buying a ticket "like everybody else", and not phoning "the right people" inside.

Warm-up was a hungry young band from Leeds called "Dinosaur Pile Up".

That evening I met Pixies in the dark Brixton cellar. I was expecting Kaiser Simon, but he didn't show up. Someone told me he saw Marc Almond. I wasn't sure it was really him. Too bad Kim wasn't there.

Pixies! OMG!!! Said to myself I gotta be cool like Kim. But my enthusiastic alter ego pops up & runs for autographs.

Saw David Lovering in his typical stylish cap. After the band had split he embarked on a magician's career. His magic is actually scientific experiments he performs on stage with the help of strange machines that he built himself. David rejected Foo Fighters request to be their drummer.

We chatted a bit about British acts we both love and he wrote me a short poem.

Then came my man, Frank Black. It's hard for me to continue this story coherently, because as I delve more & more into this story, Black looks hotter & hotter. Never thought about him like this before.

When I look at the photo of Black & his wife I believe true love does exist. They seem to have perfect harmony. Not long ago they formed a band called "Grand Duchy" and released an excellent album. It's sheer fun listening to Frank's story about how he showed his kids a DVD with BBC nature documentaries and now his kids adopted a David Attenborogh accent. I'm so glad that someone so worthy like Black breeds.

When I asked Black for his autograph he knocked off his beer. I felt a bit uncomfortable, but it wasn't my fault. I can't be responsible for all the evil in the world. In hind sight I should have spilt beer on my self, and ask Frank to clean it.

Frank Black is a real cool dude. The person that wrote all these crazy lyrics looks perfectly sane & calm. People still call him by his real name, Charles.

When it was time to go he kissed me goodbye. I felt like a 16 teenager again, which I never was, at least in my mind.

He radiates positive strength, stability & confidence, all the things I lack. I went over wrapped in a cloud of all these good things. That evening trust in humanity has returned to me. This morning I saw the remains of the cloud in the mirror.

Like the protagonist in the Dandy Warhols song, who searches for a friend as cool as Kim Deal, I want a private Frank Black of my own. To give me a sane purpose to cling to. And he should be really cool.