The days are lit like everyone....

September 1991. It's one of those early autumn mornings ripe with promise. Fierce blue sky, just a hint of coolness in the air. I'm on the Northampton/UMass shuttle, heading for my first class. I like taking the bus. I tell people it gives me a chance to catch up on my reading, but usually I just put on my headphones and sink into the music while I watch the scenery pass by.

On this morning I'm listening to Surfer Rosa. This copy belongs to my boyfriend. It had been eaten by an old tape deck, but he managed to salvage it. Took the shell of the cassette apart and rewound the tape. It sounded fine - the crumpling had happened at the very beginning of a side, with the clear header tape. I'd had the tape in since I left the house to walk to the bus stop, and side two was just finishing. I hear the crinkle of the crumpled header tape, the whir of the auto-reverse kicking in...

We're in Hadley, the intersection of Routes 9 and 47. The Farmer's Museum and the town hall next to it are scalding white against the blue sky. There's the hiss of the tape. I feel the drums kick in, and the bass....and suddenly the bus feels like a roller coaster, and we have climbed to the top of the hill, and I can see for miles. I want to scream with the rush of joy, of adrenaline...

I will never forget how happy I feel to be alive at this moment.



I didn't get to see the Pixies before they broke up. There was a show in Boston that I heard about, but I was a poor student trying to support myself on the meager wages of my record store job. I did get to work a They Might Be Giants show at Smith, and Frank Black was the opener. My friend was doing the catering. He let me help him so I could get in for free.

I met the Johns for the first time. I was surprised and a little sad by their standoffishness (but found out the reason for it years later, which will have to wait for another blog post). Meanwhile, Frank Black was the warmest, sweetest guy - which I didn't expect from someone so screamy. He told us how he'd recently become a bit of a wine connoisseur, and had just come back from France, where he'd consumed lots of amazing wine. He produced a bottle, and proceeded to pour glasses for the hospitality staff. It was superb. I loved him. When the show started I went upstairs and danced my ass off during his set.



September 2005. I'm living in Charlottesville, Virginia, the midday host of a radio station I love. But I miss Nothampton. I miss being able to walk to venues where the bands I love are playing. Most of my favorite shows are a two-hour drive to DC. And then comes word that the Pixies are playing the Charlottesville Pavilion. It's a ten minute drive from my house.

I run into some friends on the way in. We get down just close enough to the edge of the stage. The band takes the stage. I feel the drums kick in, and the bass....and I burst into tears.



I had not forgotten how happy I was to be alive at that moment. I screamed my voice raw, and even with earplugs my hearing was muffled the next day. I figured that was it - I'd finally gotten to see one of the bands that made me so. happy. And that was it. That would be my Pixies experience...



September 2009. And then....this.

My friends got tickets this morning.




Ooo ooo...