For better or worse, Pixies are back with their first studio album in over two decades, and that in itself should be celebrated.

Their last LP, Trompe de Monde, flew relatively under the radar, released as it was on September 23 1991 – the same day Nirvana’s Nevermind won over the world with a sound ironically indebted to the 80s rockers.

Since then, the appreciative words of Kurt Cobain have opened Pixies’ back catalogue up to generations of music lovers, and their unlikely ascension from cult status has almost demanded they finally get their dues.

In that sense, we can all be glad that Indie Cindy will probably get the sales and air-time the band could only dream of in their heyday. But sadly, as much as I want to love it, the freakish charm that underpinned their classic works like Doolitle and Surfer Rosa simply isn’t here.

The title track betrays much of the record’s problem, with Black Francis ditching his trademark ape-ish screech for a strangely faceless, sacharine coo.

At its best, this newfound mellow echos the La’s on Greens and Blues, but mostly it lends a radio-friendly sheen to songs that, while still melodious, are void of the aggression and energy they used to play upon.

Rare highlight Bagboy harnesses this rawness, with harmonies reminiscent of the absent Kim Deal. Her voice is sorely missed throughout, but you can’t help understand why she might have sat this one out.

Rating: Two stars

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