‘Tame’: Pixies’ revolt against the “rude” upper-middle classes
Immersing oneself in Pixies‘ dark, potent lyricism on 1989’s Doolittle is an exercise in wading through frontman and songwriter Frank Black’s most private neurosis. Mutilation, Catholic guilt, and surrealist evocations all permeate together queasily on their sophomore LP, a signature record of theirs which manages to wrestle electrifying indie-rock out of songs filled with unsettling energy.
The strange marriage of dark poetic examinations and idiosyncratic humour had festered away on their debut LP Surfer Rosa, recorded with legendary ‘producer’ Steve Albini
One of Doolittle‘s most memorable cuts is ‘Tame’, a masterful piece of tension-riddled garage rock featuring their unique ‘quiet-loud’ dynamic which would prove influential on Kurt Cobain’s songwriting, and provide popular music with one its greatest screams committed to record ever. With Black’s whispered, intimate snarl and heavy perspirations, coupled with lines detailing “hips like Cinderella”, it’s tempting to interpret the song as a paean to erotic longing or red-blooded desire.
“That song is just about all these fucking stupid ass students that live around this neighbourhood. Man, oh man, they are the rudest motherfuckers in the world. They’re all fucking rich, which is fine, I don’t care, I wish I was totally rich…” Growing up in Boston, Black clearly developed a resentment to the middle-class law students that descended upon his local Commonwealth Avenue. With this prism of class antagonism, suddenly his breathy snarls feel more like acerbic growling in resolute contempt for the arrogant rich kids and their obnoxious flaunt of wealth.
“Must be having a good shame, talking sweet about nothing” states clearly the song’s scathing attack on airheaded privilege, the broiling scream of “tame” less a frustrated yearning for sexual release as some initially interpreted, but simply a desperate desire for substance among this unwelcome demographic at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, the Boston public school Frank attended.
There are somewhat contradictory statements Frank’s made regarding ‘Tame’s’ subject matter. “I don’t want to sound like a male chauvinist, but I have a male perspective, because I am male. ‘Tame’ is about women more than men. But the way some men treat their hair it’s incredible and I can[‘t] understand all that deodorant and stuff. I’ve never related to it. My family’s rather spartan. It’s about putting all that time into sexual presentation. I don’t mean it in a dirty kind of way. Where I live in the city, women spend time presenting themselves and still come out forever bland and mediocre.”
Perhaps underneath Frank’s class invective does indeed lie a knotted, confused eroticism, a subterranean fixation in keeping with Doolittle‘s latent idiosyncracies. Whatever its true meanings, ‘Tame’ stands out as a towering piece in Pixies’ incredible body of work, Drummer David Lovering exclaiming to MusicRadar “It’s full of angst, kind of punky, even though it’s in a slightly odd time, it’s quick and moving, so I get to go all out on it.”
Possessed with an exhilarating energy, it becomes positively dangerous when played live. As captured on their defining Brixton Academy set in ’91, Frank stood arms apart free of his guitar, bellowing the title’s screaming his rage into the mic to the wild reception of the crowd, ‘Tame’ stands as a powerhouse Pixies cut which still intrigues as much as wallops.
