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Yeah. I don't know why, but I don't have a whole lot invested in it. If it sucks, it won't destroy my love for the Pixies, which has had twenty years to morph into what it is today (which is more appreciation, than "love," to tell the truth.) If it's great, it still won't change anything.
I don't think I'm over the Pixies... that's just not the way to put it. Though honestly I do believe that their music never again sounds as good as it does to the alienated artistic young people during their youth during the first stages of sexual identity seeking (in other words, college for most; grad school for some poor schmucks) when they begin discovering the beauty and horror of the human sexual experience. Once you hit 30, loving them becomes a less visceral and more academic affair. Still fun, but the vampiric majesty of their music loses a good portion of its bloodlust after the hormones stop flaring and start smoldering.
... Unless you're gay. Then I think the Pixies, like the Smiths, never stop feeling just *fabulous*
So I'm not over them, but I've stopped having heart palpitations at the opening riffs to their first three records, and I've stopped being "surprised" at how well Trompe holds up, and I've accepted that Bossanova is a great EP stuck inside a terrible album.
So basically, I guess I'm just way too god damn analytical to enjoy anything other than the sound of my own thoughts. And sonic youth. And sleeping. And *real* newspapers, goddammit! And JAG.
God I'm a fucking douche.
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