Kim is perhaps most famous for her role as the bassist of The Pixies, but in their interview, the Deals requested that they not discuss The Pixies, Francis Black, or the messy breakup of the band in the early 90s. Instead, they focused on Kim and Kelley's sobriety and how it has affected their music. (Both twins are veterans of rehab.) "Best thing I ever did," said Kim jokingly, "What people don't tell you is the energy it gives you. It reminds me of when me and Kelley first started playing the bars, or when me and the boys first started the Pixies. Feeling the energy in your bones when you started writing a song, getting to practise without already being drunk and high." Kelley agreed: "What everyone forgets is that the musicians we always associate with being drunk or high - Jim Morrison for instance, or Jimi Hendrix - it's often their sober album that people loved the best."

They also touch briefly on the issues facing women in rock. Kim calls the early 90s a very "boy-oriented time. Hardcore was big again in America and girls weren't allowed into it." The twins also recall growing up in the late 70s in Dayton, Ohio, where punk was ignored in favor of metal. "Girls were supposed to be sexy whores in white pants - they weren't allowed to rock," Kim said. Interestingly, Kim shifts her focus from discussing the sexification of women in rock to a brief foray into the problem of male exploitation. She says that despite the macho culture of the 90s (or maybe because of it), men were often treated with as little respect as their female counterparts:

"People talk about girls being asked to put their fingers in their mouths in the name of pop, but no one looks at the Red Hot Chili Peppers' picture with socks on their dicks and says anything." She shrugs energetically. "This girl-and-boy thing is way more complicated than that."

'It Used to Be About Music. Now, Without The Drink, It's Good To Go Back To That' [Guardian]

The Breeders success has always been painted by rock critics as a 90s anomaly. It all started when the Pixies fell apart in the early 90s, which was due, in part, to Kim's mounting popularity. Some say that lead singer Frank Black couldn't handle being second banana, and so Kim struck out on her own, forming a rag-tag band which eventually included her identical twin sister Kelley, who was working as a computer programmer and had never played guitar before. According to Ethan Smith, who wrote a telling and entertaining profile of the Breeders for the Times Magazine when they released Title TK in 2002, "In most musical eras, this would hardly be a recipe for chart-topping success. But courageous amateurism was all the rage in the early 90's. In their quest for authenticity, fans and record executives alike were seeking underdogs to make into heroes."

Well, it's 2008 now, and a love of ballsy dilettantism has been replaced by a vocoder nation. When I arrived at Brooklyn's McCarren Pool for the Breeders show yesterday, I expected a bunch of fellow 90s enthusiasts who remembered when Last Splash was a big hit in 1993 and wanted to worship (and reminisce) at the altar of the sisters Deal. Instead, I found a park filled with 19-year-olds in unholy hybrids of short shorts and mom jeans (see fig. A at the bottom of this post).

It was hot, and even the snuggly confines of the free-booze filled VIP section couldn't make up for the sun's unyielding rays on our aged flesh. My friends and I ended up putting a makeshift tarp over our heads and offering sunblock to scantily clad and quickly reddening youngins like the crazy old ladies that we were. We got there around 3 and the Breeders didn't take the stage until 5:30 or so, which meant that we spent the better part of two hours counting the number of girls wearing rompers (12) and Keds (7) and rompers and Keds (1).

When the Breeders finally came on, we didn't have the energy to push our way to the front of undulating mass at the front of the stage, so we hung back in the shade and listened to Kim and Kelley (fig. B). I was hoping for one of the twins' famous public spats (from the 2002 Times article: "Suddenly the slumber party has become an episode of ''Judge Hatchett.'' Close your eyes and the twins' flat-accented, not-quite-identical altos — a source of fascinating musical effects on disc and stage — sound like one extremely unhinged woman on the brink of wringing her own neck.") but the Breeders' performance was smooth and professional. Though after decades of hard living, at 46 they're looking a little worse for the wear, Kim's clear and femme voice sounded the same as it ever did, which is to say occasionally transcendent. Most of the romper-clad audience didn't appear to be superfans like me, but they certainly appreciated the rock that Kim and co. were slinging almost as much as they appreciated self-consciously watching each other's outfits.

We left early, before the encore, because we didn't want to have to wait in the endless line that would undoubtedly form at the park's exit. I was happy to see that the hipster masses would still congregate in droves to hear Kim Deal, but I can't say I loved the show. I'm too old and cranky to deal with the crowds and the smell and the lines and the rancid portapotties. This was the second time I'd seen the Breeders. The first time was in 2002. What's remarkable about Kim Deal is that through several different band changes and life changes, she's been remarkably consistent. She still makes the same lo-fi, stripped down rock and keeps the same unkempt, fuck-you image that made her a commercial success in 1993. Though critics might not know what to do with aging female rock stars, female rock stars know what to do with themselves: keep making music.

Wait! One more thing. 40something female rock stars keep making music, but they also revive amazing flame wars in glossy magazines with similarly aged dude rockers. "You know, [Pavement’s Stephen] Malkmus is being a bit of a bitch in interviews recently," Kim said in April to Time Out. "One thing he said last summer referred to me as 'trashy mouth.' And he just did this article in Spin where he alluded to me unpleasantly, saying [something like], “You know, I always thought that Pavement could have had one of those big hits in the early ’90s with ‘Cut Your Hair,’ but I guess people preferred ‘Cannonball.’…God, man, “Cut Your Hair” isn’t as good of a song as 'Cannonball,' so fuck you. How’s that? Your song was just a’ight, dawg." Kim, I might be too old and lame to like concerts, but you're still my hero.

Fig. A: a denim romper:

Fig. B: our crappy, old lady view from the back of the crowd:

She Is a Punk Rocker [New York Times Magazine]
Cool As Kim Deal [Village Voice]
The Hot Seat: Kim Deal [Time Out New York]

Relateed: Rompers, Jellies, And Denim: A Summer Sunday In Williamsburg [Style.com]

I realize that the music industry has changed so drastically since 1993, when Exile in Guyville came out, that indie rock has ceased to mean anything whatsoever, but I wonder what the girls like me and Moe are listening to today; not the girls who worship Rihanna and that fucking Katy Perry we get 10,000 press releases about (apparently Perry's single "I Kissed A Girl," is number 2 on iTunes. Sample lyric: "I kissed a girl just to try it, hope my boyfriend don't mind it."). I mean the girls who read Sylvia Plath and write bad poetry and secretly hate everyone and themselves. Who are they listening to?

I asked some friends who write about music, and they seem to think the days of apathy are over. "Indie rock" girls are either like M.I.A and Santogold, awesome, multicultural and political but also optimistic; or they're folk-y twee beauties like Regina Spektor and Joanna Newsom. I want to draw ties between music and the Clintons and Obama (the Clintons = apathetic 90s = Liz Phair; Obama = activist-y, optimistic aughts = M.I.A.) but blogging doesn't give me the time to flesh that out so I don't sound idiotic.

But you know, the music industry is a huge and sprawling thing these days since no one pays for music anymore anyway. There has to be some room for lonely ladies who will tell you that we're all going to die. Can anyone tell me where they are?

Sound Of A Generation [NPR]
Earlier: Did Liz Phair Predict Your Life Or Did She Actually Dictate It?