Wait a minute. The one and only Black Francis, aka Charles Thompson, aka the frontman of the one of the most influential groups ever, the long-defunct Pixies, you say? Yes, it's him all right, but let's not get too involved with the past here, folks - as Janis Joplin said, "it's all one day."

Touring behind his sixth solo album, Dog in the Sand, Black is not a lonesome troubadour. With impressive backing band the Catholics (consisting of Pere Ubu/Captain Beefheart keyboardist Eric Drew Feldman, Scott Boutier on drums, David McCaffrey on bass, and guitarists Philips and Rich Gilbert) Black and his gang of sonic troublemakers were able to compose music that is ambitious but unpretentious.

During the two-and-a-half hour set, pretty melodies and strains of steel guitar conjured up images of both 60s girl-group pop and midwestern outlaws. Dark when he needed to be, raucous yet meticulous, Black performed with an impassioned western feel, a happy mix of steel guitars and rawk. With Dog in the Sand, Black has proved that it is indeed possible to be both a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll.

The set featured five Pixies songs as well, which often lapsed into sing-alongs that left the audience feeling positively dizzy. (Previously, Black has staunchly refused to rehash songs from his former band live; obviously, he has had a change of heart). Whatever the reason, it was worth it to see the kids jump in ecstasy when the ever-hopeful opening notes of "Where Is My Mind?" rang out.

Serving as the opening band was bouncy Iowa rockers House of Large Sizes. Exuberant, yet heavy and abrasive where it counts, HOLS gave a long set of jagged, anthemic indie-rock with sexy lyrics such as, "I can take you any old way - doesn't mean that much to me." Or was it actually, "because it means that much to me?" Whatever. Double entendres and mysterious lyrics only added to the allure.

Black's songs are rabid and concentrated, drenched with beer-hall solos that have the tendency of washing over you when you least expect it. The mood swung back and forth throughout the evening -
at times, he seemed to be the leader of a growling pack infidels bound for Hell itself. One heady number began with the quiet seriousness of a hymnal procession and slowly escalated into a frenzy; Black sang with the barely concealed defiance of a forced confession, and the effect was chilling. Other times, he seemed to just want to make the kids dance.

Frank Black has been accused of being obscure and opaque, but one thing's for sure: nothing spoke more clearly to the kids that night than the starry rock and roll that drifted down the stairs, out the door, and into the night.