“Doolittle” by the Pixies

It’s the 35th anniversary of a near-perfect alternative record.

The Pixies’ Doolittle, one of the most brilliantly conceived alt-rock records of the 80s, is my one-word rebuttal whenever someone floats the idea that all acts, regardless of how unique they may sound initially, must sell out to achieve some measure of financial success. Coldplay, Maroon 5, U2, the list goes on and on. But this LP, clocking in at under 40 minutes, is an example of what can happen when arty weirdness is fine-tuned instead of buried in the name of widespread accessibility. The group’s previous studio release, Surfer Rosa, is at times equally brilliant but had too many rough edges sonically to have mainstream hit potential. Incredibly, even as they dialed back the scuzz and leaned more into pop-oriented songcraft, the core Pixies personality lived on. It’s a testament to what can happen when you’re willing to compromise.

Most casual rock and alternative fans will know the two biggest hits off Doolittle: the irresistable, jangly sur rocker “Here Comes Your Man” and the gleefully obtuse “Debaser,” the latter of which re-emerged as a single in 1997 to promote a greatest hits compilation and, by all accounts, had a marked influence on early-2000s guitar rock groups like the Strokes. That said, if there was ever a record to listen to for the deep cuts, it’s this one. “Wave of Mutilation” is the darkest of pop-punk toe-tappers, getting you to sing along to what is ostensibly a song about a suicidal man driving his car off a bridge. “Hey” dips its toes into more rural, even gospel territory, referred to by singer and guitarist Black Francis as the band’s “only R&B song.” The overt pop numbers (including the underrated “La La Love You”) are interspersed by a delicious platter of quirky delights, such as “I Bleed” and “Monkey Gone to Heaven.”

When people find out about this newsletter, many are quick to comment about how most modern music is, by their estimation, inferior to classics like this. Especially in the alternative arena, everything is supposedly more sanitized and less adventurous. While I don’t necessarily agree, I posit that plenty of artists could learn a lot about threading the needle between creative ambitions and commercial expectations from Doolittle.