I totally love the alt-pop oddness of Bossanova. For me it felt more refined than the blood and sawdust of previous Pixies albums, dug deeper into that songwriter lysergic, typified by ‘Where is my mind’ on Surfer Rosa and Come On Pilgrim‘s “Caribou”, that potent pour of words sticky and scenic, now cruising a contoured finish, Kim Deal’s chorusing voice the absolute cherry.
That Black Francis and Kim intertwine on the sci-fi-esque skinny dip of “Velouria” — a love song skating close to Doolittle‘s “Monkey Gone To Heaven” genius for catchy repeats,. sparkling in lip-gloss harmonics as its words trampoline the splashy thud and theremin warble. Catching them live back in 1990 at Reading (back when the Festival wasn’t the polished ill-relevance it is today), their energy stuck with me — especially when Bossanova’s newness filtered in.
Those thrown panoramics of “All Over The World”, its curve-cutting gyratories feeling huge with that walkie-talky static throwing out some tasty contrast in a tingling refrain. Its words like a flicker-book animation caught in a staggered melodic sweep and elastic guitar excess, freefalling in a chorusing finality. “The Happening’ following the same template to sycamore a salty conspiracy.
A lingering strangeness too, its storylines a thorny tapestry of occult sensuality and fret-burnt thought. The tremolo swirling hex of “Is She Weird” and “Digging For Fire”’s search something deeper in the black soil, that gritty wild west atmosphere of “Hangwire” – a mysterious allure that suggestively glistened in the minds eye, left vivid after-images.
Was eager to hear where this would lead, and the follow up Trompe Le Monde sliding in there a mere year after scrambled your senses (something I’m not adverse to) via the salted eyeballs of the cover — Vaughan Oliver‘s warped tribute to a Georges Bataille novella — and “Subbaculture”‘s erotic vulturing.
The hop-scotch harmonics of the title track and that caustic burn of “Planet Of Sound”, flavours flushed with an exciting brashness, switching from pogo-ed brutality to full on effects-shredded upend. An exhilarating rub that still goes straight for the jugular, aglow with Mr Black’s derangement-store lyrical genius.
That throwaway brilliance destined to seep into his Teenager Of The Year and Frank Black solo releases after the Pixies breakup that this album kind of hinted towards. That write it large aesthetic of Trompe Le Monde certainly felt like an undeniable toe in the water for Frank to go it alone, as if he was spotlighting himself for some springboard action.
That abrasive early work ethic returns in spades… “Space (I Believe In)” revelling the particular spelling of a name gift-wrapped in snarling tangles. They did dial it down a touch on the golden glow of “Bird Dream Of The Olympus Mons” and sunset ambering of “Motorway To Roswell”, which had ‘hit single’ written all over it (why it never was released as such remains a mystery). But for the most part it’s firmly in the red with some insanely over-driven excellence, which still get me throwing strange shapes while doing the household chores.
The “It’s educational” screams of “UMass” and “Subbacultcha”‘s date-night psychosis are insanely good, all signed off by the strange western slant of “The Navajo Know”. There’s a special place in my heart for this release, there really is – continuing to pull greatness from the most unlikely of places, daring to roughening up that Bossanova perfection.
Now the burning question is — do the two 2026 seven-inch extras bring anything to these reissues, apart from their nice-to-have status? Well I think so, with two tracks in particular.
The ballad simplicities of the Kim Deal-sung “Go Man Go” on the first that gives an early sense of the solo joy she’s now wearing so well. The unpolished gem that is the “Punk Loop” on the second – another discarded treasure unearthed. An odd encyclopaedic rant flanked in corridor of “Oooh oooh” vocals, a real thumper of a track that I can’t believe was never considered for the polishing and released back in the day. Both adding a shiny cherry on top shizzle to these worthy remasterings.
-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
