from the bossanova album, dig for fire demonstrates frank blacks poppy surfy side (as opposed to his screaming, my-little-sister's-just been-abducted side). some fans dislike such songs as this and Here Comes Your Man, favouring instead the more cut throat tunes featured on surfer rosa. for the rest of those though, the occasional moments of perfect pop thrown in not only add to the splendour of the melting pot, but also to the puzzlement: why weren't the pixies the biggest thing ever? bad timing and worse luck is my sole conclusion.
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