Pixies @ Hordern Pavilion, Nov ’25
The Pixies rolled into the Hordern Pavilion last night for night two of their “40 Years Tour” and delivered a set that was equal parts nostalgia, renewal, and delightful weirdness—essentially everything you want from a Pixies show in 2025.
They opened with their haunting cover of “In Heaven”, but what made it especially striking was that vocals were handled by their new-ish bassist Emma Richardson (ex Band Of Skulls). It felt almost ceremonial, as if the band were formally presenting her to the crowd: here is the latest crucial limb of the Pixies organism. And she absolutely owned it.
From there, they dropped into a track I didn’t recognise, and then—bang—straight into “Here Comes Your Man” followed by “Nimrod’s Son”. That was the point the night really ignited.
What followed was a relentless barrage of classics with barely a breath or a word between songs: Vamos, Mr. Grieves, Hey, Caribou, Debaser, Wave of Mutilation, Isla De Encanta, and Monkey Gone to Heaven. It was an almost absurd run of bangers, each landing with precision. The band barely paused long enough to let the crowd fully recover.
With a new album out—2024’s The Night the Zombies Came—I’m assuming the next cluster of songs came from that. There was something involving the “King of the Prairies” and a few slower, broodier cuts full of Francis’ usual off-kilter lyrical eccentricity. The crowd stayed locked in, clearly enjoying the fresh material, but the room exploded again when the band swung back to the old favourites: Gouge Away, Tame, and a jaw-dropping, absolufuckinglutely incredible version of Cactus. Somewhere in the whirlwind were Bone Machine, Planet of Sound, and their cover of Head On. It was a lot—almost too much—to process. The band was frighteningly tight.
Not everything was flawless, though. A couple of false starts plagued the new track “Motorola” (apparently German for “scooter,” as we learned mid-banter), which then segued into what I swear was a silly song about a chicken—or at least that’s what my ears reported.
Then things got a little stranger: the Pixies decided to play Wave of Mutilation again. Sure, it was the UK Surf version this time—slower, prettier—but still… the same song twice? In a catalogue this deep, it felt like an odd choice.
But any nitpicking evaporated when Where Is My Mind arrived. Every one of the roughly 5,000 punters lifted their phones and arms in unison. It was a gorgeous moment and a flawless rendition.
The night wrapped with Into the White, once again sung by Emma Richardson—a neat, deliberate bit of symmetry. She opened the show; she closed the show. And true to Pixies form, there were no encores. No theatrics. They don’t need that. They play, we absorb, and we leave buzzing.
One final note for the setlist tragics: interestingly—though perhaps unsurprisingly—there was no Gigantic. As it was penned by Kim Deal, maybe that explains its continued absence from the modern Pixies live repertoire. A shame, but not unexpected.
Overall, this incarnation of the Pixies feels locked-in, energetic, and maybe—just maybe—at their post-Deal best. If you’re thinking about catching them on this tour, do it. This is a band still very much in their prime.
Full gallery: Pixies
Photos: BJWOK
