the Pixies in younger, hairier, less fat days.

By now it's common knowledge that the Pixies came, saw the V Festival, said something like, "we'll play that there V Festival" and then completely OWNED the V Festival. Countless thousands revelled in their ragged glory and spurred by a splendid day of sunshine, many fell to their knees in epiphanous, ecstatic awakenings. (Ok, this was only one person I knew of personally, but I'm sure there were many souls getting down at the church of Frank Black.)

The Pixies have become legend, we all know. As the Velvet Underground adage goes, everyone who heard them started a band (you know, like this one band Nirvana). Every single one of those people in Sydney that Friday streamed through the lovely nighttime setting of Luna Park and packed the Big Top to capacity. Most of those people are pushing forty now, but time has not wearied their love of the band, and this show in particular had "OMG AWESOME!" stamped all over it – the first time ever, that the Pixies have played in Australia.

So, as the air crackles with anticipation and nostalgia-laden meetings with people from your past (or was that just me?) pile on top of eachother, finally they're here. The Pixies are onstage to revel in the love they never really enjoyed at their peak, when they broke up angrily amid all kinds of threats. And the knowledge that they all arrived in separate cars and will go back to their separate hotels is palpable in their performance, but the thing that matters is that they put on a great show. Certified nutball Dave Lovering plays the hell out his drumkit, while Joey Santiago's intert posture belies the screaming crank he draws from his guitars. They are tighter than ever, Kim Deal sings sweetly and looks chuffed while Frank Black still howls bloody murder, hitting all those gutteral shrieks about UFO abductions and self mutilation and incest and death, while everyone sings along like a rowdy church choir.

There is very little interaction between the band members, or between band and audience, and very little attention paid to Surfer Rosa (though there was the gladly received 'Monkey's Gone to Heaven' 'Here Comes Yout Man', 'Wave of Mutilation'). But when Frank Black stood beatifically at the lip of the stage and drew rapturous, adoring applause while saying absolutely nothing, it was clear that the Pixies are a band whose output is bigger than they are as people. So, they may hate each other pretty deeply, but damn, 'Debaser' fucking kills.