Since disbanding the Pixies, and adopting the jokey, disappointingly homely, Frank Black to conduct business, Charles Thompson IV seems to have buried much of his demented, feral, hound-dog degeneracy with his old stage name.
And, considering that demented, feral, hound-dog degeneracy was the reason we loved him in the first place, he hasn’t been half as interesting in the time since.
For some then, the thrill of seeing the name Black Francis on a record sleeve will be akin to that engendered by seeing Terence Malick’s on a movie poster, or Diego Maradona’s on a team sheet. And, likewise, fans will approach with their fingers crossed, hoping against hope that old glories have been rediscovered, and a battered mystique re-varnished.
Bluefinger, we are told, is an extended ‘ode to Herman Brood’ – the avant garde pop artist, who rampaged throughout the Europe of the 60s with the band, His Wild Romance, and who committed suicide in 2001 by jumping from the roof of the Amsterdam Hilton: the venue for John and Yoko’s honeymoon bed-in. A frantic cover of Brood’s ‘You Can’t Break A Heart And Have It’ is the most explicit nod in the Dutchman’s direction, but he also crops up as lyrical inspiration in ‘Angels Come To Comfort Me’- a surprisingly upbeat barnstormer.
It’s noticeable in the accompanying press release that Francis says his decision to turn to Brood as a subject only emerged after he had failed to “get The Pixies back in the studio.” The inference, therefore, is that some of the songs on Bluefinger could well have turned up on the much-anticipated Pixies reunion album.
And it’s pretty clear which ones they are too. Allow me to point you in the direction of ‘Lolita’ and ‘She Took All The Money’, and I’ll leave you to wonder at what spells Dave, Joey and Kim could have cast over these promising blueprints.
In truth, the name switch is an entirely cosmetic exercise. In common with all his solo albums, Bluefinger is a mixture of the good (‘Discotheque 36’), the bad (‘Tight Black Rubber’), and the ugly (‘Test Pilot Blues’). And the blend of Tex-Mex Teddy Boy, surf-pop, and sun-stroaked country is totally in keeping with his career to date. Which is not to say that Bluefinger is without its merits; in fact, it’s probably the sprightliest solo collection of songs he’s recorded to date.
It’s good to see Black Francis living down to his reputation.