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Black Francis, as singer with the Pixies, is as essential as you get. His solo material has been plentiful, but less rewarding. Less is more and all that. On the other hand the first song on this mini-album is both hilarious and affecting. Black Francis goes all Limp Bizkit circa "Nookie" for the verse of "The Seus". The chorus is classic Chilli Peppers. Did I mention it's acoustic? And there are out of tune bits too? And a great bit where Francis sings: 'I'm going to city to see my Daddy/ I hope he's glad when he is with me.' Genius by its very nature is erratic, but when it works you get dynamite. This is the sort of song you put on repeat when you want to rearrange your brain into a new and interesting shape. I like to think that Black Francis is drawing a comparison between the legendary king of Athens 'Theseus' and the American writer and cartoonist 'Dr Seuss', but I suspect I've just been listening to this song on repeat for that bit too long.
Nothing else on this mini-album matches the bonkers nature of the first song, but there's still much to enjoy. "Garbage Heap" has a prowling bass line, not unlike the Pixies, while Mr Francis promises: 'I'll stay here with you' which is quite something when you consider the name of the song. This track would appeal to Pixies fans, who need something a little lighter than their usual fare. Black Francis knows about brevity being the soul of wit. So while "Half Man" isn't particularly memorable, the strummed acoustic guitar and throbbing bass are effective, and it doesn't outstay its welcome. More beguiling is "I Sent Away", which is the sound of Nick Cave performing Liam Lynch's "United States of Whatever". There's even a discordant harmonica solo among the madness. It's another one to play when it's just you and the cat in the house. It's easy to imagine Black Francis recording this album in a farmyard somewhere. "Seven Fingers" is Bob Dylan at a barn dance. Actually I think I would go to barn dances if this were the sort of thing they played. "The Tale of Lonesome Fetter" has the feeling of an acoustic Bob Mould. The chorus is particularly effective, as the song threatens to grind to a stuttering halt, before kicking back into summery alternative rock that lingers in the mind. "When They Come To Murder Me" is more raucous, with strident rhythms and insistent guitar. I've been struggling to think of singers whose solo work has been better than the group they left behind. I can't think of anyone. Maybe Michael Jackson, though he isn't without complications. No matter, the demented intensity of "The Seus" and "I Sent Away" are five minutes of essential listening even when Black Francis isn't fronting his original band. |
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