"Here Comes Your Man" (Pixies)

Even though the Pixies had been around since 1986, I first learned of the band in 1993, around the time "Cannonball" by The Breeders started getting major airplay.  Someone from MTV News had shoved a microphone in Kim Deal's face and asked her if The Breeders' blossoming success meant the Pixies were kaput.  And then I heard Kurt Loder mention that Kurt Cobain had cited Pixies as an influence.  So I began wondering what the heck the band sounded like.
It was 3 more years before I actually heard a Pixies song.  It was on WXYC campus radio at UNC, and it was the track "Here Comes Your Man" from 1989's Doolittle—probably the most poppy, accessible song in the band's catalog.
That's not to say that the song is straight-ahead pop-rock, though.
As with other Pixies songs, it's not obvious what "Here Comes Your Man" is about.  Frontman Charles Thompson IV (a.k.a. Black Francis, a.k.a. Frank Black) is often poetically if not intentionally obscure in his lyrics.  In other words, you can rarely approach a Pixies song like: "This is a song about _____ (love, politics, war, a ham sandwich, etc.)."  The subject matter is generally much quirkier that that.
In a 1989 article from New Musical Express magazine, Black said he wrote the words to "Here Comes Your Man" at age 15 about hobos getting crushed to death when the so-called "big one" hits California.
The only real hint that the song has anything to do with hobos is his use of the word "boxcar."  (Outside there's a boxcar waiting...)  But it's such a smart, vivid word choice; it automatically generates Steinbeckian images of George and Lennie riding the rails.  And then there are vague allusions to the ground shaking and things falling apart, which adds an odd, sci-fi twist to the familiar Dust Bowl-era imagery.  (Definitely not your typical fare for a pop song.)
Regardless of what it's about, the song has a rock-solid groove.  Lead guitarist Joey Santiago's sunny, brain-invading riff paired with Deal's thumping bass and David Lovering's punchy drums provide an upbeat backdrop for Black's distinctive, adenoidal vocals.  
The arrangement reminds me of another favorite track on my list, "You Were on My Mind" by the band We Five.  There's that breezy, California pop feel, but it's undercut by this sense of impending doom in the lyrics.  Personally, I find that sense of tension filtered through pop sensibilities compelling.  It creates intrigue, and it makes me want to revisit these songs, over and over, just to see if anything new unveils itself.

"Cannonball" (The Breeders)

Back in the 90s, I was either hot or cold about alt rock.  There was no in between.  If you'd asked me as a teenager why I didn't care for bands like Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, or Alice in Chains, I probably would have said something along the lines of: "They're boring."  And that still rings true; those bands truly did (and do) bore me.  It was if they were trying so hard to be the antithesis of all the booze-n'-floozies-themed hair metal from the previous decade that even their more rocking tunes sank under the weight of their own gloom and dourness.

Apart from that, what I've come to realize in the years since—having had the time and an internet connection to explore rock's back pages—is that those aforementioned bands have/had no sense of groove.  In my humble opinion, the best, most enduring rock & roll takes its cues from the strong melodic and rhythmic roots of the blues, jazz, gospel, and traditional country music. 

The Beatles and the Stones understood that.  So did Jimmy Page.  Kurt Cobain, too.  (His inclusion of Lead Belly's "Where Did You Sleep Last Night" in Nirvana's Unplugged set is pretty striking evidence of that.)  And that's why I like their music.

And that's why I liked The Breeders back in the day, too.  Kim Deal's side project from Pixies (and eventual full-time venture when the Pixies went on hiatus) knew how to groove.  All it takes is listening to the band's second full-length, Last Splash (1993), and you can feel that sense of rhythm and melody; it's almost like a punk band playing R&B.
And while the entire album is solid (I'd highly recommend checking out lesser known tracks like the bass-heavy, surf rock-tinged "Divine Hammer"), I have a special place in my heart for the album's big hit: "Cannonball."

Not only does "Cannonball" have the kind of tasty mellow-mayhem-mellow dynamics that characterized a lot of Pixies tracks, what with Deal crooning alongside twin sister Kelley on the verses and then screaming into a bullet mic on the refrains, but it has this big, bouncy rhythm section, anchored by Josephine Wiggs on bass and Jim MacPherson on drums.

Speaking of Wiggs, I came across an interview with her from 2013 on Consequence of Sound, and she shed a bit of light on the song's distinctive intro.  

Basically, that little solo bass riff that comes in after the distorted ooo-ooo-ooo vocals was a mistake that stuck.  Wiggs says that, when the band first started practicing the song, she kept coming in a semi-tone flat, every single time.  Only when the guitars kicked in would she realize her mistake and slide up another fret.

"We all just thought it was hilarious and thought it sounded really great.  It kind of sets up a certain expectation, and then your expectation is changed because all of a sudden it's in a different key.  It was clear to us at that moment that that was the right thing to do, to keep the wrong note in there."