"I'm the burghermeister of purgatory!" offers Black Francis on Indie Cindy, title track of the first Pixies album in 23 years. Pronouncements like these go with the territory; it's what we pay him to do. Since the Pixies' inception – Boston, 1986 – Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV (his real name) has held forth on debasement, molestation, mutilation, poor mental health and surrealism, crooning and screaming by turns. His manic street preaching has been one of the fundaments of a band who, in turn, have long been a cardinal point of good taste in guitar music. The Pixies reunited in 2004 to hysteria front of house and, you imagine, some satisfactory return backstage. Successive tours sold well. Before bassist Kim Deal walked out during recording sessions in Wales last June, the rebooted Pixies were held to be a minor miracle of quality in an often makeweight reunion market. They could all still play ferociously. Even if this reunion was just an exercise in cashing in four musicians' chips with considerable interest, it was working. No one begrudged any Pixie their due.

Now, it's just not washing any more. Deal was replaced by another Kim (Shattuck, of the Muffs) until Shattuck was unceremoniously removed from post in November. The current live incumbent is Paz Lenchantin, a veteran of Billy Corgan's Zwan, lumbering occultists A Perfect Circle and other, better session jobs. The Pixies, it seems, must have a woman on bass, because that's what they need to be seen to have.

There are certain things the Pixies do, then, and they're doing many of them here. Indie Cindy could conceivably slot in next to Trompe Le Monde (1991), the Pixies' last, adequate studio effort before Thompson quit by fax, Deal went full-time with the Breeders, Joey Santiago soundtracked films and Dave Lovering became a magician. Here, then, is Thompson spouting his trademark weirdness, his vocals a little more processed than you remember; here are a number of passages where chugging rhythm guitars are overlaid with a three-note mosquito lead guitar line, a signature move favoured by the Pixies and much copied in indie rock.

Here are interludes of spoken Spanish (Jaime Bravo), a staple since the Come On Pilgrim EP (1987). On Andro Queen, one of the album's best songs by some distance, Thompson goes for Esperanto. Greens and Blues is, by Thompson's own account, an attempt to out-Gigantic Gigantic, the band's totemic indie disco staple; a song, not insignificantly, co-penned by Deal. (It doesn't.) Blighted by a dreadful title, Indie Cindy smells like a Pixies album – a passable one, good at times. The Vaughan Oliver cover art makes it look like a Pixies album. But Deal's absence is sorely felt. Bagboy isn't a bad song – it starts with a prowl of electronic bass and Thompson expostulating wildly, like an east coast Mark E Smith. But the Pixies have roped in someone else to ape Deal's backing vocals. He's called Jeremy. This speaks volumes. Perhaps the most salient fact of all about this Pixies album is that it combines their three recent EPs without any new, unreleased material. It's a craven cash-in.

Deal, meanwhile, has spent years caring for her mother, who has Alzheimer's – a period documented last year on the moving Are You Mine. She has since posted a newer song, The Root, released for Record Store Day. It's a pretty basic demo that nonetheless knocks much of this Pixies album into a cocked hat.

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