While we're not sure we would really want to do it, had we been asked Continuum Press to write one of their 33 1/3 mini books about a favorite album, we just might have to choose Wire's third album 154. Partially, this choice would be something of a compromise as we doubt that a book on Nurse With Wound's Homotopie To Marie would make for a saleable product. 154 stands in our minds as the epitome of what post-punk should be: a bold fusion of post-situationist / punk antagonism and legitimately experimental methodologies with an undercurrent of smarty-pop to keep the kids bouncing up and down.
I (Jim) actually came to Wire somewhat late in my record nerd existance, and I actually grew to admire the band through a reverse history of sorts, as I didn't really start enjoying the first three Wire albums (Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154) until other Graham Lewis and Bruce Gilbert projects entranced me with thier experiments in proto-electronica. This was especially true for the ghostly post-structuralism found on their Dome records. And those Lewis / Gilbert projects took their genetic code for shadow and gloom from elements of 154. An album that was made under personal duress, 154 drips of disintegration. In fact the band split apart for almost 7 years after the making of 154, pursuing a variety of projects -- traces of which are quite present in this album as Colin Newman's pop sarcasm continued through his solo records and the vast array of Lewis / Gilbert projects.
Recorded in 1979, 154 marks the band's third radical reinvention in three years. Wire's pacing has slowed to a lugubrious, Factory-esque crawl but lost none of their punk antagonism. The slower pacing better suited the baritone vocals of Graham Lewis, who had penned many of the lyrics that Colin Newman sang. In lesser hands, the patchwork of forboding atmospheric dirges and punchy power pop numbers would appear disjointed; but Wire's deft use of synthetic coloring, exquisite timing, and simply great songwriting smear the whole album into a wholly convincing masterpiece. "I Should Have Known Better" and "A Touching Display" represent a few of Graham Lewis' baritone marches through plodding drone and heavy basslines, which have more in common with the late '80s, proto-doom of Swans than of the snarl of the Buzzcocks. Newman's pop brilliance also shines on 154 through "The 15th," which sadly more people recognize from the tepid Fischerspooner cover than by this punk-pop gem. Of the first three Wire albums, 154 proudly stands as the most challenging and most rewarding. So good, we may have to buy it, yet again.
In 1978, being qualified as "the Pink Floyd of the New Wave" might have come across as something of an insult; and by today's artistic strategies of rampant revivalism such a pithy remark may ring true to many a listener. That statement was, in fact, the critique prescribed to Chairs Missing, Wire's second album, as the album decelerated the pogo punk minimalism found on their first album with an increasing use of experimental production. In hindsight, Chairs Missing is the perfect transition between the high-strung velocity of Pink Flag and the staggering gloominess of 154; yet most transition records have a clunkiness about them, like a lanky teenager not quite able to fit into his sunday best. But Chairs Missing is miles above the average transition album. To many a listener, Chairs Missing stands as the ultimate Wire album, with near perfect pop songs alternating between anthemic punk and eccentric production techniques (i.e. atonal synth drone, staccato guitar chops, overdubbed guitar distortion, etc.). Where Pink Flag kept many of the songs under a minute and half, Chairs Missing is downright baroque in its presentation of 3 minute tunes. The genius of Chairs Missing is how Colin Newman, Robert Gotobed, Bruce Gilbert, and Graham Lewis manage to steer through the diverse songwriting landscape, in how the album's opening track "Practice Makes Perfect" transitions from a delicate prance for jangled guitar into a precise expression of menace, in how "Outdoor Miner" creates the catchiest, Beatlesque chorus you'll never be able to sing back to yourself given the complexity of its rejoining, nonsensical syllables, in how jaggedly clean the guitars of Newman and Gilbert attack each other, in how Lewis' bass is fluid and effortless, in how this run-on sentence seems to have lost its way trying to fathom the complexity of Wire. If you believe that the length of Aquarius' reviews directly correlate to how good the record actually is, then we have failed as we would need to write a fucking a book about how stunning this album is. Yeah, Chairs Missing is incredible; and if you don't have it, you really should.
Okay, one thing to bitch about the reissue of Chairs Missing is that the cover is curiously bleached out of its color; the reissue also doesn't come with the (really great!) bonus tracks found on the EMI cd version of the album. Come on Wire, you released this album on your own label. At least you could give us all the bells and whistles found on other versions of this album! This is our only complaint, and a minor quibble for sure.
Really, what more can we say about Wire's Pink Flag that hasn't already been said? The album is so good, so burned in the retina of our brains (even though we still cannot for the life of us unscramble Graham Lewis' lyrics), so nearly perfect that it's sort of hard to write about. In a perfect world, whatever nonsense we may have to say about the record would be moot, as you should already own this record (along with Chairs Missing and 154, Wire's second and third albums respectively). But for those of you who may be enraptured by the recent flurry of post-punk revivalists who continue to make quite a stir, let the reissue campaign of the first three records introduce you to the band that Interpol, Maximo Park, Franz Ferdinand, and Bloc Party only wish they could be.
Recorded in 1977, Pink Flag is an immaculately concise punk record, even as Wire recognized that punk was becoming a self-parody and willed themselves to develop through experimentation with structure, technology, and process. Pink Flag's 21 songs cover a mere 35 minutes, many of themclocking in around 90 seconds or "when they ran out of words" as bassist / vocalist Graham Lewis once quipped. Energetic and volatile, each of the songs on Pink Flag thrash through the repetoire of reductivist power-pop riffs as immediately catchy and aggressive as anything by the Damned, the Ramones, and the Sex Pistols. But even on their first album, Wire demonstrated an uncanny ability with chord changes and melodic shifts that by '70s standards were much artier than their punk bretheren. Of course, in the aftermath of math-rock's acrobatic twists and turns, Wire's Pink Flag hardly sounds unpredictable... but if it weren't for Wire would we really have Laddio Bollocko? Probably not. The album's opening track "Reuters" is an anxious introduction to Wire's provocation with lead vocalist Colin Newman over-annunciating a polemic against government's abuse of propaganda (sound familiar?) on top of an increasingly agitated metronomic blast of bass, twin guitar, and drums. Elsewhere near perfect pop songs develop out of the angular punk slashing, as heard on "Ex Liontamers" and "Mannequin." Wire ends the album with the monotone anthem "12 X U" which many have declared their "Anarchy In The UK." With a motorik rhythm punctured by concise punk riff, the track simultaneously decries homophobia and censorship with the song's entire lyrics "I saw you in the mag kissing the man / 1 2 X U!" So yeah, Wire are a seminal band for a reason, and it all started with this album. If you don't have it, please do yourself a favor and buy this album. You won't regret it!
Everyone hates the term supergroup. But sometimes a group is SO super, you're really left with no choice. Check this out: Campbell Kneale (Birchville Cat Motel, Black Boned Angel, Celebrate Psi Phenomenon head honcho), Antony Milton (AM, Mrtyu, Nether Dawn, PseudoArcana head honcho), James Kirk (Sandoz Lab Technicians, Gate) and Richard Francis (Eso Steel). With a pedigree like that we'd be happy to just sit outside their studio and listen to the guys talk about the weather. As cool as that would maybe be, this is most definitely a lot cooler. A massive sprawl of organic drone all recorded in the great outdoors using battery-powered instruments. A thick swirling fog of sound, warm drifts of drone and rumble, shimmery and soft focused. This is far from the recent spate of metallic sludge some of these dudes have been slinging, instead this is dark and delicate, crystalline and so completely gorgeous. Whispery ambient whirls, subtle pulses, all sort of blurred and dreamlike, with lots of natural reverb, and subtle intrusions form the world around them. So goddamn beautiful.
Packaged in a plastic sleeve with a sleeve made from the most gorgeous paper we have ever seen, a soft cottony blend of blacks and reds and purples and yellows, sort of like a soft oilslick rainbow. Nice!
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Hidden City Of Taurmond is like an all out caffeine attack that only grows more furious as it all plays out. In it's first few minutes things start pretty sweet, simple, driving and propulsive, kind of like Apparat Organ Quartet's tougher older brothers bringing some extra melody with their keyboards and more spastic rhythm with their drums, always with a can of red bull ready and waiting. As the record unfolds the pace grows faster and the rhythms get bigger and badder and the drummer, wow the drummer just totally loses control in the best of ways. Which makes sense when you realize that the drummer is none other than Brian Gibson of Lightening Bolt fame. Teamed up with the fun keyboard sounds of Rich Porter, they make sounds equally influenced by prog rock, 70's soundtracks, 80's electro, video games and that crazy carnival down the block that your mother would never let you visit. Hidden City Of Taurmond is an adrenaline rush that you never want to end. Think Trans Am in full rock mode, after a case of pixie sticks and something to prove. We can't stop listening to this, there's just something so full on and wildly charged about these songs that make us get all bouncy and launches us into a wickedly fun frenzy.
A weird musical mix here from this brutal metalcore / post rock / uh, jazz fusion? band from Chicago. We were prepared for it, though, having previously liked and reviewed their debut album Way Of The Dead a couple years ago. In that review we said that only weirder metal band on the Century Media roster was Japanse black metal bizarros Sigh (both bands have moved on to new labels since then). Perhaps unsurprisingly, the saxophone player (yes, saxophone player) from Yakuza guested on the most recent Sigh album. And now Yakuza are back with a new full-length, just as heavy and arty as before. They remind us a bit of Iceburn (the vocals, the jazz influence) but heavier, more in the direction of Neurosis and Isis. Massive sonics throughout, with unexpected styles and instrumentation mixed in. The songs here blenderize tech grind mayhem, hardcore screaming, Alice In Chains style clean vocals, chamber music, and smooth jazz chops, and don't make as much a mess of it as you might expect... No, this works for us. If you're into the likes of Fantomas or Kayo Dot we'd imagine this might work for you too. Avant-cellist Fred Lonberg-holm shows up as a guest, as does one of the Mastodon dudes. That maybe tells you something right there.
A kinder gentler YYY's can be found on their follow up to Fever To Tell, the record which made them international superstars. We are not averse to bands softening their sound as long as they are also finding new more subtle, interesting and pleasing ways to express themselves. The moment Show Your Bones begins it becomes clear that this is a shinier glossier more pop affair. There are a few moments of the more rocking YYY's scattered throughout the disc but this is much more about their full on pop leanings. The first song (and many others on this album) sounds remarkably like it came from Tegan & Sara's latest album So Jealous. Indeed these catchy girl-sung tunes might lure some fans over from those sisters' camp. Her vocals also recall those appealing '80s female singers such as Debbie Harry, Dale Bozzio, and Siouxsie. Perhaps Karen O and co. are targeting the teenage girl population? Not sure, but these are certainly some toned down and tidily groomed YYYs who've made themselves totally presentable for the masses. Really, these tunes are absolutely ripe for some John Hughes movie soundtrack!
It's been a seriously productive year for the Yellow Swans. Multiple cd-r releases, some 7"s, a Australian tour with pals the Grey Daturas, as well as loads of splits and collaaborations with folks like Axolotl and the Skaters as well as teaming up with the Daturas for a couple releases as well. Phew! But thankfully, there seems to be no end in sight. With all those releases, it's a bit surprising to realize the Yellow Swans only have one proper non cd-r release, and that one flew so far under tha radar we wouldn't have known about it at all had one not drifted through here used a while back. So here we have a brand new, shiny silver, actual cd, non-cd-r, blast of Yellow Swans nooooooooooize! Joined on a few of the tracks by fellow noisy folks Inca Ore, Gerritt and Christina Carter (of Charalambides), Psychic Secession is another gorgeous chunk of sweet sweet noise, equal parts glistening shimmer, crushing and jagged skree, skittery diembodied rhythms, haunting ghostly vocals, blistering sheets of distorted electronics, squealing feedback, chiming reverb drenched percussion, glistening delicate ambience, even some ultra processed psychedelic rock, all woven into a dense chaotic and surprisingly gorgeous whole!
This will be coming out in the states on Load Records, but not until way later in the year, so for now we got this Australian import version which comes in a super spiffy oversized cardboard sleeve and is a completely different (supposedly 'noisier') mix than the forthcoming Load version!
SF trio The Zim-Zims have returned with a new five song cd-r! The opening track "The Moon" initially struck us as being quite reminiscent of Screaming Trees (circa Uncle Anesthesia) and the fourth "Monticello Song" reminded us of Echo & The Bunnymen's "The Killing Moon". This perhaps is in part due to the fact that the vocals have gained a bit of bristliness and the guitars are considerably darker. However, the rest of the tunes are more like those of their self-titled debut in 2003. That is, buoyant, jangleful indie rock that brings to mind Guided By Voices and Beulah.
