Back in the early 90's, Kurt Cobain famously said of Smells Like Teen Spirit: "I was just trying to write a Pixies song," acknowledging the band's huge influence on a generation of music. Without the Pixies, it's hard to imagine the whole alt-rock/grunge revolution occurring in the 90s.

So perhaps it's fitting that just a few weeks after the 10-year anniversary of Cobain's death--the man who exposed the masses to a new sound--the band that literally invented the sound began an improbable reunion tour.

In the late eighties and early nineties, few people probably thought the Pixies would spawn such a huge pool of musicians who, like Cobain, were "just trying to write Pixies songs." Today, we have the perspective of history to show us just how damned good the Pixies were. (And are, but we'll get to that.) Songs they wrote and performed 15 years ago still sound fresh, rather than nostalgic.

And so, I'm happy to say: I saw 'em. Saturday, April 24, 2004. The Big Easy in Spokane, Washington. Truth be told, they could have stunk up the place, and I (along with 1,500 other adoring fanatics) would have loved every single note anyway: I mean, come on, it was the Pixies--the freakin' Pixies--live on stage. But they didn't, in reality, stink; they sounded surprisingly good. Were there problems? Sure. They aborted the first song about 3/4 of the way through and left the stage before reloading for a second try, Frank flubbed lyrics here and there, Kim fell out of time a on a number of occasions, the vocals weren't always on-synch, and someone's guitar (Frank's I think) was mixed too hot, causing unintended feedback throughout the night (a problem that was also apparent on the DiscLive recording).

But come on, it was the Pixies--the freakin' Pixies--live on stage.

The venue, a Nawlins-inspired building dubbed The Big Easy, provided an intimate setting for all to get up close and personal with the band: the worst seat in the house couldn't have been more than 50 yards away. By about 8:05 local time, after a mercifully short set warmup set by opening act Alien Crime Syndicate--talk about a dream/nightmare gig for a young band--the lights dimmed and the white shirt of Frank Black (or should we call him Black Francis during the reunion tour?) moved across the stage in the darkness. When the lights came up again, Frank--along with bandmates Kim Deal, Joey Santiago, and David Lovering--were in place, ripping into "Subbacultcha."

Or should I say most of "Subbacultcha"? As I said, they abandoned the song about two minutes ini, with Kim saying, "We're gonna ditch this, aren't we?" and Frank responding, "Yeah. You think we can leave the stage and come back again?" Kim's puzzling response--"Sure, it's club night"--still makes no sense to me, but Kim's always been something of an enigma anyway. They returned after a few minutes, Kim announced, "Hi, we're the Pixies," and they launched "Subbacultcha" one more time. I'm not sure what the problem was, but I suspect it might have been an issue with the mix; I don't think Kim and Frank were able to hear each other. I say this because their vocals were way out of synch the first time through "Subbacultcha," but much better on the reprise.

The slight break only enhanced the anticipation (the audience chanted "Pixies! Pixies!), and by the time they worked their way through a complete version of "Subbacultcha," the crowd was ready to take a long ride.

Maybe I forgot to mention this, but I saw the Pixies--the freakin' Pixies--live on stage.

Their 28-song set spanned all their albums, with particular emphasis on "Come on Pilgrim" and "Doolittle." "Surfer Rosa," my favorite, received only slightly less attention. Friends who attended the concert with me managed to snake their way up to the stage in front of Joey, but I headed to the opposite side so I could stand in front of Kim Deal. Kim's always had an odd, naughty-girl-who-could-teach-you-a-few-things appeal for me, and her non-stop grin the whole night made the show worth it alone. She could have flubbed the bass line of every song, and I would have forgiven her just for that genuine, ear-to-ear smile.

For me, highlights included "Hey," "Cactus," "Ed is Dead," and the old standbys of "Monkey Gone to Heaven" and "Gigantic," with the single most magical moment of the entire evening happening during the bridge of "Gigantic." Kim looked at Frank with that big ol' perma-grin on her face; Frank returned a small grin and a lift of the eyebrows, as if to say, "Can you believe this is all happening?"

I, myself, can still barely believe it happened. And hey, a big tip of the hat to DiscLive for producing copies of the show on CD--I've relived the show a dozen times already, and the recording quality is quite good (although, like the show, Kim's mike seemed hotter than Frank's).

Yeah, I saw it all. The Pixies--the freakin' Pixies--live on stage.

Today marks the 10th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death. Ten freakin' years. In many ways, it seems so long ago; in many ways, it's still hauntingly fresh.

I remember hearing of Cobain's suicide. It wasn't a shock, really. It was ... expected. He'd tried suicide before, and he was such a tangle of nerves, angst and self-doubt--much of it brought in by the fame he never saw coming--that I think so many of us knew he wasn't long for this world. Following Neil Young's oft-quoted observation, he was destined to burn out rather than fade away.

I wish I could say I heard of Nirvana before the masses--that I was cool enough to know this music long before the rest of the world. But I wasn't. Like so many, my first Nirvana experience was the MTV video of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," filled with images of an anarchic school assembly. It was loud. Bombastic. Exciting. I was immediately taken in by the song's energy and otherness, and I ran to the record store to buy "Nevermind." I was hooked, and sought out other works by Nirvana. At that time, "Bleach" was the only other disc available; the "MTV Unplugged" disc would follow, as would "Incesticide." I bought "In Utero," the last Nirvana album--and in my mind, some of Cobain's most brilliant work--just a few months before his death.

Did Cobain speak for a generation? I don't know. Maybe. But for a short time, he spoke for me. And that was enough.