‘Reunion Period’ bands driven by pursuit of money
Groups returning to music don’t have the same chemistry as before
While watching Dinosaur Jr. play at the Avalon on Aug. 17, I thought to myself, “People have waited so long for these guys to play again. I’m lucky to have this opportunity.”
Suddenly I snapped out of my self-congratulation and realized I have said this to myself many times recently.
When rock historians classify 2004 and 2005, there’s a good chance they’ll call them the Reunion Period. And there really isn’t a more apt description.
Some would say this phenomenon began with the Pixies’ announcement of a small reunion tour at intimate venues culminating at the 2004 Coachella Festival. Well, this “small tour” continues.
The Pixies continue to add dates, and in a year have gone from being “the band that did the song at the end of ‘Fight Club’” to being belatedly acknowledged in the mainstream as a pivotal alternative rock band. Frontman Frank Black has even discussed a new Pixies album, something unfathomable a couple years ago.
However, the Pixies weren’t the first indie band to reunite in recent years. Mission of Burma, a post-punk band from the early ’80s, began playing together again in 2002 and released “ONoffON” in 2004, its first album of new material since 1982’s “Vs.”
Other recent examples have been Gang of Four and Bauhaus, two bands with short-lived yet influential careers. Yet the reunions of Mission of Burma, Gang of Four and Bauhaus weren’t as unprecedented as those of the Pixies and Dinosaur Jr.
This is because, no matter what the band members say publicly, there is still a heavy amount of resentment among them.
Both bands had slow and similar dissolutions. Later Pixies and Dinosaur Jr. albums were solo records for Black and J Mascis, respectively, that happened to have the band’s name on the cover. Eventually, Black broke up the Pixies by fax machine and Dinosaur Jr.’s original lineup was compromised when frontman J Mascis told bassist Lou Barlow that the band was breaking after hiring a replacement bassist behind Barlow’s back.
On a scale of crappiness, these two breakups rank up with dumping a significant other by changing relationship status on Facebook and then never speaking to them again. Obviously, any sane person would not give someone like that a second chance. So why are these bands all smiles now?
I love both bands, but the simple answer is money. It may be the root of all evil, but it can solve any dispute. What were the Pixies and Dinosaur Jr. doing for the past decade?
Frank Black released solo albums whose quality seemed to cut in half every time. Kim Deal was with the Breeders, who are to the Pixies what Wings was to the Beatles. As for the Dinosaurs, aside from Mascis scoring indie films, none of them were setting the world on fire. So of course these band members would want some disposable income.
If these two particular bands can reunite, anyone can, aside from bands whose members have died or, in Syd Barrett of Pink Floyd’s case, gone insane. Imagine what it would be like if any living band could magically reunite. Suddenly you can see The Police, The Smiths, the true Guns N’ Roses line-up or At The Drive-In. Then again, is this a good thing?
Reunion concerts are great, but what about bands recording new material? Personally, I’ve never heard a transcendent reunion album. Jane’s Addiction’s 2003 comeback “Strays” was an example of a band being away for too long. On that album, it was easy to tell that the band didn’t connect and was unsuccessfully drawing from a number of disparate influences.
And while Weezer never actually broke up, their post-“Pinkerton” career has disappointed. If anything, reunion releases sully legacies because so much is expected. Frequently, you can tell the only reason a band is together again is for the money. Pat Wilson, Weezer’s drummer, has hinted that he hates Rivers Cuomo.
So as Frank Black and company sit down to possibly record new material, I implore them to consider the immortal query posed by Jack Black in “High Fidelity”: Is it better to burn out or fade away?
If you think Lou Barlow’s solo career set the world on fire, e-mail Humphrey at mhumphrey@media.ucla.edu.

