The fact that "Come On Pilgrim" has been relegated to the end of the current edition of "Surfer Rosa" (much to the joy of our wallets) does not allow us to minimize this precious debut work. Although it is actually a simple demo, the first cry of the newborn Pixies is not just an EP made in less than a week, but the true first album of the band. Yes, a twenty-minute album, eight concise songs, but autonomous in its completeness. Many indeed make the mistake of underestimating it, I have many friends who adore the subsequent albums and disparage it as a drunken fling, a hodgepodge of still unclear ideas. Nothing could be further from the truth. Remarkably, the Boston band, formed just a few months prior and led by the Californian Black Francis (vocals/lyrics/guitar), already had a personal, mature identity. Each member had fermented their intuitions from past experiences with previous bands.

This first official recording, a collective and primordial outburst in direct take, marks the birth of a legendary band. Legendary for their talent and perseverance, it would last for an unforgettable, intense five years yielding notable results. The hallmark of the "Pixies sound" lies in its relaxed borrowing from every musical genre they like (with a fondness for Californian culture and the mytho-musicology of surf-rock, the conception of gaps and sound spaces typical of new wave and post-punk) turning it into an original and unmistakable alchemy. Kim Deal's bass gains significant importance as the pitchman of the pieces' structure, an irreplaceable and seductive backbone that always maintains its role as the omnipresent protagonist. Joey Santiago's guitar, on the other hand, manages with sound spirals the direction that each time the song must undertake, slithering (see the incredible "Vamos", later also reprised in "Surfer Rosa", but not with the same hissing hypnotic dynamism), roaring wildly (as in the very sensual "Isla De Encanta"), embroidering and re-licking precisely the arching and disjointed architectures created by Black Francis's freaky singing. The latter delights us with his folk guitar inserts, joyously - and sometimes with pseudo-Spanish tones - snowy the album like poisoned but delicious sugar.

A perverse world is created where sounds follow one another illogically, where volumes battle each other and the voices of Francis and Kim alternate between shouts and angelic tones, devilish mockeries ("I've Been Tired") to heartfelt odes full of shyness, of unsurpassable pathos (the time-stopping intro of "Caribou"). It quickly becomes a unique pleasure to listen to the stories ensnared by these jewels, surreal stories of paranoia, fetish obsessions, deconstructed poems swollen with pain yet ready for a malicious underlying smile, nonsensical exhortations and celebrations of a California where Zorro and the Hispanic tradition are still remembered, where one spends life searching for the highest wave or dreaming of convertible trips with trunks full of drugs. It feels as if a new piece has been instantly added to American history, and its music. The bizarre but disenchanted one of the Pixies. "Surfer Rosa" combined with "Come On Pilgrim" will form what is probably the "The Velvet Underground & Nico" of the '80s, but with two substantially different, albeit complementary, visions. The 16mm technicolor visions of "Come On Pilgrim" against the more acidic black and white Cassavetian of "Surfer Rosa", certainly benefiting from producer Steve Albini’s intervention. Two different works, which I recommend separating (if you have the aforementioned "Surfer Rosa"/"Come On Pilgrim") on two different cassettes or CDs. In your small way, you will restore importance and rightful dignity to one of the greatest demos in rock history.

 


"Come on pilgrim, you know he loves you..."

 


P.S.: The recordings that produced "Come On Pilgrim" included, besides the eight tracks in question, another nine that together formed the legendary "Purple Tape". Subsequently, these have yielded a "posthumous" release ("The Pixies", 2002).

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