One afternoon in 2016, I necked an industrial vat of coffee and proceeded to make the case for the Quietus that, when all is said and done and hyped and re-issued, ad infinitum, Trompe le Monde was Pixies 1.0 at their most downright irresistible. Marking their shapeshifting, space-obsessed last hurrah before combusting two years after its release in 1993, it’s spent the last three decades astride its predecessor, Bossanova, as a genre-mangling snapshot of the band being indie rock’s OG mentalists par excellence.  Eight years on, I’m more sure than ever that, for all their relative dearth of Kim Deal, it’s…