Melody Maker: What brought your early lyrics about incest and religion?
Frank Black (a.k.a. Black Francis): Oh, that was me being obsessed with the Old Testament characters. Look, I don’t have any sisters, OK? All brothers. And all very hetero.
Pixies always transfixed my spiritual imagination as their thrash-punk-pop blew open windows that were already broken, revealing strange worlds that many would have boarded up to cover up, but worlds that needed the light—and guitar, bass, drums, and screaming vocals. It was as if Black Francis were a preacher who had gone deep undercover into the underworld, became obsessed with it, and then actually realized his own need for a Savior.
In this musical tradition comes Dear and Glorious Physician. This band of siblings take on the thrash tones of Pixies without eviscerating the pop. There’s the art-rock of Sonic Youth with less meandering. In Charles Arthur Westfall IV’s vocals, I suppose you can hear David Byrne or Fred Schneider (B-52’s), but it’s not as if the comparisons stopped in the 80’s.
Other bands have found ways to tap into that Pixies sound—an art-thrash that pushes the envelope, licks the old stamp, sends it as quickly as an email, and then just starts a fire for some smoke signals. Brakes have the voice-cracking quirks, the Fever lay down the bass/drum combination, Vaz has the panic-inducing guitar stabs, and Eric Friar of Heros Severum has the spoken-like vocals amid the fray.
Mainly, though, Charles Westfall sounds as if he has learned prophecy and preaching under the tutelage of Black Francis. And that’s a good thing; the mantle must be passed. Meanwhile, it seems Kim Deal taught Jillian Westfall a thing or two about being a thrash enchantress, delivering soulful vocals amid the screams.
The entire self-titled debut rocks, but the Family Westfall preach their most powerful prophecy on “Behold the Man.”
He is not letting on.
Silence is his virtue,
Patience is his strong,
So take him to the skull
And bind him cruciform.
Where is his shade, where is his drink?
He’s not but platted brim and gastric leak.
Behold the man!
And voices coming down!
Them scars will last forever.
He’ll show you when he’s ‘round.
So shake ‘em, take ‘em down,
Now three days underground!
The raise him East and lower West,
And spring a fountain from his chest.
Oh when the Saints, come marching in!
Oh how I’d love, to be in that number,
When the Saints come marching in!,
Jesus is our dear and glorious physician, but most sermons I hear—or even admittedly give—cannot rouse praise like Charles Westfall shouting “Behold the Man!” Most sermons do not praise Jesus while at the same time shaking against the forces that would drag Him down. “Behold the Man” musically brings together Law and Gospel, judgment and promise, punishment and forgiveness, in a way that sends your body thrashed out in rhythm—eyes raised to the sky singing those familiar words, “When the Saints come marching in!”
Thanks to Dear and Glorious Physician and New Granada Records for the review CD.
