When they first hit the underground scene, the Pixies were like an exotic drink that hid its sweetness behind a ferocious bite. The album's production is like a crude explosion: every strum and clang comes down with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. English and Spanish lyrics collide as singer Black Francis (later Frank Black) shouts in a hoarse monotone and Mrs. John Murphy (later Kim Deal of the Breeders) backs him up with throaty wails. Yet somehow the clash of these bruising titans makes for tracks that print indelibly upon your consciousness--once let in. Kurt Cobain is their most famous student. He grafted the Pixies' time-honored craft of the big bang theory onto Nirvana's biggest hits. (You start with a quiet verse and then explode for catharsis in the chorus--evidenced best here with "I've Been Fired.") The Pixies themselves have served quietly, attaining post-punk godfather status not by tooting their own horns, but through the praise of a steady stream of genuflecting admirers whose word of mouth continues to increase the band's deserved critical standing.