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The Pixies: Surfer Rosa (4AD)

Chris Roberts, Melody Maker, 12 March 1988

"WHERE IS my mind?" smirks huggable Black Francis, and you can't help but rattle your jewellery. If "bloody your hands on a cactus tree/wipe it on your dress and send it to me" doesn't win him the Nobel Prize for most sweet peas in a pod without due caution, then I don't know what will. A full and healthy appreciation of (The) Pixies is entirely dependent on a terrible, terribly good, sense of humour. Any attempt to locate their muse would flounder face-down in a pool of warm beer, sweat, and semen. So laugh with the devil, basically.

Total word count of piece: 463


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