| By Dathan Kazsuk | |
It’s not every Tuesday night that you get transported back 15 years. But that’s what happened when I caught the Pixies and Spoon live at Raleigh’s Red Hat Amphitheater this week. I went with a friend I hadn’t seen in ages—the same guy who was with me the last time I saw the Pixies, way back when they played Disco Rodeo. If you’re new around here, that’s The Ritz now, but back then it was grimier, sweatier, and somehow perfect for a band like the Pixies.
Walking into Red Hat, it felt like a reunion of sorts—an old friend, nostalgic songs, memories mixing with the buzz of a summer crowd ready to see two indie giants share a stage. (Technically, it was three bands that evening, but we arrived late and missed the opening act, Fazerdaze.)
This was my first time seeing Spoon live, and they came out ready to prove why they’ve quietly built one of the most devoted followings in indie rock in the past two decades. Britt Daniel’s vocals were crisp and cool, weaving through each song like a thread pulling everything together. The band’s sound was meticulous without feeling sterile—layers of guitars, keys, and rhythm coming together in a way that was both textured and surprisingly intimate for an outdoor venue.
They didn’t need to go over the top with stage antics or showboating. Their presence was understated but confident, letting the music do the heavy lifting. Tracks like The Underdog, Inside Out, and I Turn My Camera On shimmered in the summer dusk air, while newer songs flexed a bit of muscle without losing that Spoon groove.
From the very first notes, the Pixies made it clear they weren’t here to coast. Black Francis, Joey Santiago, David Lovering, and the band’s newest bassist, Emma Richardson, came out to perform the classics. My friend and I admitted, after Richardson’s first notes on In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song), it’s just never been 100 percent without Kim Deal. But it was pretty darn close!
Seventeen of the 27 songs came from some of the classic vinyl I grew up listening to—Doolittle, Surfer Rosa, and Come On Pilgrim. These tracks sent the crowd into a frenzy, and glancing over at my friend, I saw him rocking out and singing in tribute to Francis’ raw, explosive power.
Debaser, Bone Machine, Tame, Gouge Away, and Vamos are songs that are storytelling at its finest. It was still the same unfiltered band I remember from almost two decades ago. Heck, Francis sounds just the same as the first time I saw the Pixies back in 1989 in San Francisco, which had them on tour with Public Image Ltd and The Sugarcubes. It’s wild to think about it now: Björk, John Lydon, and Francis all sharing the same backstage area.
My friend and I grinned like kids, shouting lyrics back at the stage, flashing each other that look that says, “This is why we came.” For a moment, it felt like no time had passed since that night at Disco Rodeo—just louder amps, a bigger crowd, and a couple more wrinkles on our faces.
But it wasn’t just those unadulterated college underground hits; they also performed some of those MTV hits from the 120 Minutes program—I probably really dated myself there! The band’s cover of The Jesus and Mary Chain’s Head On was a crowd favorite, as well as Monkey Gone to Heaven, Here Comes Your Man, and Where Is My Mind?, which were proof that music never dies—it just keeps getting better in time, like a fine wine!
But when the Pixies pivoted to their newer material, something shifted. The energy didn’t vanish, but it thinned out. People took the chance to use the bathroom or simply sit back and check their latest texts or Facebook posts while listening to the music. The newer songs were tight, well-played, and undeniably the Pixies—but without that built-in muscle memory of the classics, they didn’t hit as hard.
Still, there was something satisfying about seeing how far the band has come. Santiago’s guitar work remains razor-sharp, Richardson’s bass lines thrum with the same confidence as Deal’s, and good ‘ole Black Francis still has that guttural howl that can cut through any crowd noise. There were no flashy gimmicks, just a band still doing what they do best—creating a beautiful, chaotic wall of sound.
It’s wild to think that when Santiago and Francis first crossed paths back in 1984 at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, they were just a couple of college kids making noise in dorm rooms. Fast-forward 41 years, and here they are, still packing amphitheaters with die-hard fans like me—all of us waiting for that unmistakable sound that’s been the soundtrack to our lives for decades.
