When I asked a friend of mine about Monday night's Frank Black and the Catholics show at Starr Hill, he replied "It was great! They played five Pixies songs!"
And so it goes for Frank Black, a.k.a. Black Francis, former lead singer of the breakthrough late '80s indie rock outfit, the Pixies. Throughout the '90s - in the shadow of a band whose complex, guitar-driven songs spawned over a decade of imitators and a horde of devoted fans - Black attempted to forge an independent musical identity and take on a more straightforward rock approach with his band, the Catholics.
But if their most recent offering, "Dog in the Sand," is any indication, they won't be emerging from that long shadow anytime soon.
It should be noted that it is not Frank Black's intention to top the Pixies. From the music he and the Catholics make (and from his post-Pixies pseudonym change), it seems he'd rather be thought of as a different musician altogether.
"Dog in the Sand" crafts bone-dry musical badlands, from the driving drums which shift between roadhouse blues and country-western to the ever-present pedal steel and slide guitars. The songs play like the lonely watering holes, last-chance gas stations and dried-up riverbeds on a familiar rock 'n' roll highway.
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When the band stays grounded on a familiar rock 'n' roll path, however, Black launches into the stratosphere. His propensity for cryptic lyrics is something that hasn't changed from his Pixie days, and in some places on the disc, he creates sublime imagery for the album's desert-rock feel. Songs like "I've Seen Your Picture," "St. Francis Dam Disaster" and "Dog in the Sand" paint intricate portraits of the desert landscape, the pull of the open road and the things they're trying to get to (and maybe some things they're trying to leave behind).
There are also moments of inspired wordplay lunacy throughout. With lines like "The Irish in me's gonna claim it for France / I'm in a Beckett trance," (referring to playwright Samuel Beckett) and "In division pelagic you were choragic" (referring to I don't know what), the songs are anything but boring.
But when Black's lyrics and the music that accompanies it do not meet, the result can be frustratingly dense and unrewarding. Songs like the 7-minute "Blast Off" and "Hermaphroditos is My Name" contain many strange images that do not quite come together. Many of the songs contain references to Norse mythology ("I'll take this call in Valhalla"), outer space, Greek mythology and other indiscernible themes.
The most frustrating part of "Dog in the Sand" is its instrumentation. Considering Black's musical pedigree on this album, it is out of place next to Black's oddball lyrics. Although the Pixies' lyrics were part of the band's musical draw, an overall sound made it extraordinary. With their exploding guitars, resonant male/female harmonies and succinct, melodic song structures, The Pixies presented a full musical assault to complement Black's cryptic lyrics.
Despite the overall conventional nature of the music, a few songs on the album really shine with breakthrough melodies and thought-provoking lyrics. The hallmark of this is "Robert Onion," a tale about peeling back the layers of one man's fortress-like mind. It is perhaps a bit autobiographical.
"Dog in the Sand" finds Frank Black and the Catholics recounting an evocative journey of often beautiful scenes and familiar longings. The group continues to forge an identity apart from that of Black and his former group. It is unfortunate that, in order for Black to redefine himself and make his own way, he has had to veer from the road less traveled onto the mundane and beaten path.
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