“Hello, I’d like to file a complaint about Pixies, please.”

Ten years ago, a newly reformed Pixies released “Indie Cindy,” an inessential, but acceptable comeback that nobody really asked for. I still remember the excessive hostility that greeted that album. Why call yourself Pixies if you’re not going to have the full original lineup? I dunno, man, because the Breeders still exist and so do those good Black Francis/Frank Black/Frank Black and the Catholics albums, and also, how old are you anyway? I didn’t get it then and I mostly still don’t, not about that band, whose reunion tour I attended, or that album, which I still kinda like. I do, however, now “get” that sort of disappointment, not because I remember the last handful of Pixies’ albums so well or anything like that. Instead, I understand, or really remember, that sort of petulant upset, because I’ve now seen most of the first season of “Batman: Caped Crusader,” a disappointing followup to “Batman: The Animated Series.”