Pixies "Doolittle" [1989]

Who says fat perverts can't achieve success in the music world (at least those in front of the mic, that is)? Parading a seemingly endless line of sicko fantasies and lowlife characters, the doughy frontman calling himself Black Francis spooges all over college radio and not only gets away with it but is revered for infecting everyone with his worldview, exactly the same way that deranged cinematic ass-hat David Lynch did around the same time. "Doolittle" exactly illustrates the woeful condition of popular music in 1989: Black's vocal delivery ranges from a salivating horny growl to a psychotic screech, and is only bested in outright annoyance by Joey Santiago's atonal lead guitar (when he's not allowing his Surf 101 exercises to be actual guitar solos). Throw in Kim Deal's baby-voiced simpleton pop instincts and you have what represents the last major migraine for American listeners before grunge-rock issued in a whole new set of problems. I now know why "This Monkey's Gone to Heaven" -- he offed himself after contemplating what Black Francis was interested in doing to him.