S Poddar
The Boston band’s slip into mediocrity continues, with the high point a song about a headless chicken.
There’s no group whose comeback has been as frustrating and as lengthy as the Pixies. Their remarkable run of albums from 1987’s “Come On Pilgrim” to 1990’s “Bossanova” remains a bedrock of indie rock in the new century. Yet the records they have put out over the last decade, including this one, are notable only for how little fun they seem to be having.
“The Night the Zombies Came” follows suit. Much of the album sounds like the more laid-back tracks from “Bossanova”, with surf-guitar fills from Joey Santiago and less-than-loud vocals from Black Francis. None of it is particularly terrible, though the lack of memorable songs makes this feel like a distant echo of their former brilliance.
Even when the energy level does rise, as in “You’re So Impatient” and “Oyster Beds,” it feels more like a puff of air than a gale force wind. Still, at least there is one notable aspect: humanity’s long wait for a song from the perspective of a decapitated chicken has finally been fulfilled with “Chicken.” So, at least that is something.
