The Pixies mean many things to me: trippy, hazy summers; old cars going too fast; the simple glow of nihilistic youth. I always swore that if they came to NZ, I would be there!
Then, they split up and concert hopes died. Until now! I am 34 and The Pixies are here! Time for a joyful catharsis of screaming, grinning, singing, grooving and dancing like a tasered chicken.
Well worth twenty years of waiting. They came, played and left, laconic but masterful. It was atmospheric and raw, drilling to your soul and shaking you around like a maraca.
Simply Awesome. I shall die happy now.