Don't Tell Anyone You Don't Own...

The Pixies -
Surfer Rosa

(4AD/Elektra, 1988)

The new Black Francis album Bluefinger hit shelves today (and p2p networks long before that, I'm sure). I've yet to hear it. If good old Pitchfork is worth its weight in self-aggrandizing music critics, I probably won't. Besides, why bother listening to a sub-par, watered-down solo album when I can hit the waves with Surfer Rosa?

Perhaps this album represents another case of the "I fell in love with this album first, and therefore I will always love it more" syndrome. Sorry Doolittle, but your monkey gone to heaven just doesn't compare to Surfer Rosa's raucous screaming, ragged production, and err, tits.

I confess: I didn't encounter this album until '99 when "Where is My Mind?" caught my attention in the denouement of Fight Club. Yes, I was one of those people. Now I skip the track when I listen to the album. Don't get wrong, the song is exceptional, but is at best out of place on an album that is otherwise raw and dirty.

Surfer Rosa is the perfect pick-me-up for that mid-day slump, that angry-at-the-world afternoon, that summer evening when you're driving around with your windows cracked so passersby can hear how much cooler your music is than theirs. (Yes, I am one of those people.) And I don't care if the lyrics are spelled out for me in the song's title, I still contest that track three, although deserving of endless prolix commendations, is first and foremost "Something to Dance To."