Somewhere in orbit around Neptune, a small shuttle drifts slowly. Constructed of onyx-ish metal and running on solar energy, it goes as unnoticed as a neutron in New York City. Inside this craft, a teardrop- shaped sack hangs from an array of piping and organic circuitry. Floating in an absinthe goo, suspended for years in this clear cocoon, is the pudgie, naked body of Black Francis.

Grey- skinned aliens with flies' eyes draw fluid from Black Francis with hollow metal screws and tubes. Meanwhile, back on Earth, a doughy doppelganger fills the legend's societal slot. This clone has been trying to pass himself off as Frank Black since The Cult of Ray. All of Francis' paranoia of spaceships and moonmen during his Pixies days was not unfounded. He saw this coming.

The Doppelganger smokes Reds heavily and hangs out in bars along the highway. His vocal chords have hardened and his guitar chords have gained a slight, hardwood twang. The Greys thought they could pull off the switch. They didn't count on the fact that Black Francis' trademark stuttering chord hooks and shifting vocal melodies could not be cloned. On the Doppelganger's last LP, Frank Black and the Catholics, these facts became glaring apparent to the public and United States Government. The Catholics sounded like a great bar band-- enough to distract you from the mechanical bull-- but they came nowhere near Black's solo debut or, of course, the Pixies.

But Black Francis slowly takes his revenge. The Greys extract fresh Black Francis juice from their immobile captive each month and secretly smuggle it back to Earth for injection into the Doppelganger, and steadily, the soul of Black Francis has seeped in. The Doppelganger has started growling more. His chords have begun to rediscover the lost energy and passion. Whether through hormones, nanotechnology, genetics, or pure inexplicable soul, the real Frank Black is coming back to Earth. Examine Pistolero, the fifth "Frank Black" solo LP-- and the third for the Doppelganger-- for ample evidence to these hypotheses. The pace has quickened and the hooks and patented chugging have begun to resurface.

Lyrical clues to this whole scenario pop up all over Pistolero. Please note the titles "I Switched You" and "I Love Your Brain." Hear the Doppelganger cry, "I think I'm starting to lose it" (undoubtedly, he's referring to the control of the Frank Black fleshsack) right before the reincarnated soul of Black Francis screams, "I Want Rock and Roll."

So fans of the Pixies and the real Frank Black, take heart. Our Hero is fighting his way back. His punk energy slowly returns to Earth with each fresh extraction from the Neptune Ship. You can't control us, you goddamn Greys! We Humans will survive! Long live humanity and rock and roll! Amen.

-Brent DiCrescenzo