The Night the Zombies Came
Pixies
BMG
25 October 2024
It’s hard to believe that with The Night the Zombies Came, Pixies have now released more albums without Kim Deal than with her legendary contributions. That is assuming we are not counting the debut mini-album Come on Pilgrim (1987), in which case, the math is different, but the effect is much the same.
For those keeping score, the first iteration of the band with Deal contains Surfer Rosa (1988) through Trompe le Monde (1991). If Pixies’ bassists could be likened to James Bond actors, they have been made to wrestle with Deal’s Sean Connery-sized legacy. Simon “Ding” Archer—the George Lazenby in this scenario—played bass on the EPs that became Indie Candy (2014). Ding was followed by the more permanent Paz Lenchantin (formerly of A Perfect Circle and Zwan), who was with the group for the next decade until her surprise departure earlier this year. Emma Richardson (formerly of Band of Skulls) received an out-of-the-blue call to join Pixies, and she abruptly tossed aside her paintbrushes to play on the new record. Richardson proves up to the task, slotting in effectively and offering key contributions when asked.
The critical question still remains: how do you move beyond the first run of Pixies’ albums? The answer is you don’t. Certain acts, like the Stooges, the Velvet Underground, and Pavement, arguably took the right approach to just let things lie with their legacy intact. Other bands, like the Clash and the Replacements, had less than stellar swan songs, but the intention was there. With this recent run, Pixies are attempting to do something very few have (at least with the same lead singer and primary songwriter), which is to have a true second act.
Pixies have released some bangers since their reformation in 2014, but they haven’t flown the flag proudly, perhaps due to each release’s lukewarm, if not poor, reception (consider certain outlets’ evisceration of those first EPs). At their live shows, Pixies have been intent on playing the hits and some covers while stashing much of the output from this past decade; however, they have recently begun playing songs from the new record that might signal a fresh approach. The Night the Zombies Came holds form with the band’s newer records in that nothing is earth-shattering here. With that said, there is a lot to like and very little to gripe about, which makes it another solid Pixies release.
On this outing, listeners can expect to hear most of Pixies’ signature sounds, from the punk and surf rock styles to their guttural and ethereal deliveries. As the title suggests, “Primrose” opens the album with dreamlike imagery that approximates the first signs of spring. The steadfast beat and unassuming solo take the listener on a walk through the woods. There is a clear shift in tone to the rousing, streetwise “You’re So Impatient”. The lyrics emerge like something out of a 1980s thriller: “I took you out to the new dead mall / To see the horror show / I only sucked one sourball / When you said that we got to blow.”
For a record that sprinkles in horror themes throughout, many of the songs favor the majestic over the frightening, as is the case of the orchestral title track “Jane (The Night the Zombies Came)”. In addition, “I Hear You Mary”, with the lyrics “sweet flesh is on the bone”, brings arena rock immensity instead of gothic gloom. Other frightful thoughts seem largely mundane. “Chicken” begins as a dead ringer for “There Goes My Gun” (from Doolittle, 1989), but it meanders at a laborious pace with human concerns put in poultry terms: fear of proverbial decapitation, running around in circles, and searching for a lover who’s not a killer.
Overall, The Night the Zombies Came is clever, if not cute, with a charming theme that works more often than not. It includes a few letdowns, including the uninspired “Hypnotized” and “Kings of the Prairie”. In addition, Joey Santiago’s guitar seems reigned in, while David Lowering’s drums do not pack their usual punch. However, Pixies prove they can still rip, as heard in the straightforward punk rock of “Oyster Beds” and bluesy surf style of “Ernest Evans”.
Moreover, Pixies still possess a mystique that cannot be replicated. “Motoroller’s” depiction of mortality seems even cooler when one envisions the frontman behind his signature pitch-black shades. Even the simple “Mercy Me”, about losing one’s dog, creates feeling through Black’s gruff vocals juxtaposed with Richardson’s blissful tones. “The Vegas Suite”, in particular, showcases Pixies’ dexterity. The song is comprised of a few key parts, including the main bit that channels Chuck Prophet‘s slacker charm. Notably, it contains a standalone guitar excursion and haunting outro, which—much to the satisfaction of Pixies’ purists—hearkens back to an earlier time.
During these latter years, Pixies have become more of a platform for Frank Black‘s songwriting than a continuation of their groundbreaking work. By now, fans should be used to Black’s shape-shifting nature (is it Black Francis, Frank Black, or plain old Charles Thompson?), which is on full display here. Just as we all gravitate toward a Frank Black solo release or two, listeners might just prefer The Night the Zombies Came over others. At the very least, they will enjoy some signature moments, perhaps finally accepting that nothing will compare to the original thing.