Frank Black And The Catholics

I'm just back from the Milan date of the tour Frank Black is doing across Europe with his Catholics.

The Filaforum in Assago, near Milan, is the very last place on earth I'd have expected a quarter of my forbidden dream to come true - namely, catching a live show by a Pixie…

The atmosphere is genuinely strange: on one side, thousands of spotty teenagers gripped by glam itches and raging hormones, impatiently awaiting their effete idol, Brian Molko. On the other, a few die-hard Eighties nostalgics (yours truly!), perfectly camouflaged in the crowd like a German shepherd in a tuxedo at La Scala's opening night of "Lucia di Lammermoor"…

The feeling of being out of place vanishes the moment the lights go down and he walks on stage: the "Teenager of the Year" himself, bald as a potato, dark glasses, black T-shirt, corduroy trousers, and a vintage Telecaster slung over his shoulder. Standing in front of me, the man who created the Pixies and influenced God knows how many dozens of musicians… There he is! It's him!

The show kicks off, with no fuss whatsoever, with "Nadine", from the latest album. Raw, invigorating, wildly rock'n'roll sounds: pure fun. The kids mentioned above thrash about under the wall of feedback pouring from Mr. Charles Thompson's guitar, and perhaps they even sense just how much their idols still have to learn.

The Catholics are an excellent band (a third of them fine American session players I'd previously seen backing Brendan Benson, who supported the Flaming Lips) and they play like gods, at the speed of light. A pyrotechnic guitarist, who's clearly absorbed the moves of the young Townshend, sets fire to our man's songs with his fire-red Gibson SG, while a slightly ragged but very "cool" rhythm section relentlessly keeps the beat. Great, simply great! Go on, hit it harder!

But it's the second song that fills my heart with joy: a "Cactus" that kicks me straight back to 1988, with no return ticket. As it happens, just four days earlier, in this very venue, I heard Bowie sing a cover of the very same song. No contest: as far as I'm concerned, our dear Ziggy Stardust can go and hide…

The show carries on with a wonderful "Hermaphroditos", taken from "Dog In The Sand", and, to my delight, a one-two punch that leaves me flattened: "Caribou" and "Velouria". Any comment would be superfluous. So would my tears.

Three or four more powerhouse songs from the latest record, then it's over.

Forty-five minutes that left me craving more so badly that - I fear - it'll soon turn into an ulcer.

It seems Black, in a recent interview, confirmed rumours of a possible Pixies reunion: well, count me in. Promise me you'll do a world tour together without recording any new studio material, and you'll have made one man happy. But I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one… Long life to the Pixies!

P.S.: don't ask me how Placebo were, because I left the Filaforum before they even took the stage…

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