Whores at the door, whore in my bed

I heard the Pixies' Hey in a store on Sunday and, lo, it's still knocking around in my head this morning. At which point I consider two things:

Doolittle was released when I was in 8th grade, yet it was one of my favorite albums during my sophomore and junior years of college, on heavy, heavy rotation with Liz Phair and Stereolab.

When I first heard the Pixies, they sounded so dissonant, heavy, aggressive, so unlike anything I'd heard before. Now their melodies are earworms that lodge pleasantly in my head. And some store in Brooklyn plays songs with deliciously crude lyrics.