So, I went to see the Pixies on Wednesday. They were pretty good. I wasn’t an enormous fan, had heard their music, liked some of it, nothing particularly life-changing, but the hype surrounding their return was enough to make me want to be a part of it, because then I can tell people I saw the Pixies live, and they can envy me. And they do.

The Delays provided the support for the first night at Brixton, with their own drummer supporting them on the second night (performing a magic act, oddly), Graham Coxen on the third and Badly Drawn Boy on the fourth. I can’t really say much about The Delays, other than "they were a bit shit".

The Pixies lumbered onto stage after a while, to rapturous applause from the crowd, who all seemed to be fans or something, and not just opportunistic tykes like myself. I felt a little out of place, but as luck would have it, I had positioned myself next to a bemused looking young man with black nail varnish and a Guns and Roses jacket, so I knew I wasn’t alone.

It turned out that I knew far more Pixies songs than I’d realised; couldn’t name any of them, but I was familiar with at least half of their set list. They haven’t recorded any new material, though; there was one ‘new’ song, but I suspect that it’s a b-side that was never used – this reunion appears to be just that, and there are no plans to record new music (or so I’ve heard).

They were pretty good. Frank Black (or is it Black Francis again now?) is huge, and spent most of the gig in an oversized bath whilst immigrant workers washed him with brooms, but this didn’t affect his singing at all, and he was happily shrieking away. Kim Deal kept trying to be all nonchalant, with a cigarette hanging loosely from her mouth, but broke into a grin every time the crowd cheered them.

So, yeah. I’ve been to a Pixies gig. Did I mention that?