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Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Na-Nanna-Na
This is going to be so very insular. Look away. It's hideous... (but do note the second post script - we'll probably expand on that later)...

My co-worker, Mr. Nestruck, is currently embroiled in a rather nasty little spat over something Warren Kinsella said about another of our colleagues, Mr. Cosh. For the record, we side with the law firm of Nestruck & Cosh, but not at all because of any Kool-Aid consumption.

Anyway. What we really want to talk about is a throw away comment Warren made about U2 in response to a comment made by a former colleague of ours, Mr. Wells.

In reviewing the Pixies recent show in Mississauga (see reviews, er, everywhere else but here), Warren remarked:

Paul Wells recent post about U2's new album sounded defensive and self-conscious, to me. U2 are boring old farts, and so is Wells for liking them. They aren't fit to work on the Pixies' merch table. Paul, however, would be a heck of a roadie. For the backing band.

We'll let Mr. Wells defend himself. But we would like to point out that U2 are at least twice the band the Pixies ever were.

This is not to disparage Frank Black and his band in the slightest. We're sure they were very influential. Or something. But they are another in a long history of idealized could-have/should-have-beens - the short-lived, under-appreciated, famously name-dropped and ultimately over-romanticized. It's the weakest song in the book. And yet, here we are listening to it again (even if we'd much rather have had a few more years of the original - a second Kennedy term a lot better than some gratuitous video game, right?).

And, by the way, Frank Black is as boring an old fart as they come. So much so in fact that all ye Pixies fanatics haven't bothered with his solo work (see Alex Abramovich in Slate some months back). Oh how quickly we forget these things when he gets the old band back together and promises to play the hits (no more snickering at those who still get excited about Rolling Stones concerts now).

U2 simply had the gall to keep making records (always a bad idea). And good ones. Good enough that real people actually wanted to listen to them. Good enough that when they put on the Zooropa tour they were able to offer an opening spot to a little band called the Pixies.

It's not 1990 all over again. If it were you'd be cringing at the prospect that 14 years later your vaunted heroes of alt. rock (if they get credit for Nirvana, they also get blamed for Nickelback, mind you) would be fat and bald and playing the hits for a bunch of nostalgic hipsters, many of whom didn't bother with the band the first time around.

P.S. Sorry. We're just really bored with the Pixies fetish.
P.P.S. To be honest. Right now, we'll take Baby Mama over both. We don't think it's satirical. But the possibility blows our mind.
P.P.P.S. How U2's new record can solve the NHL's labour crisis - song-by-song.

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