Wire: 154

From 1977 to 1979, Wire transformed mightily from cheeky art punk rockers to an outfit that found expression in 154 (the number of shows played by the band to date) that featured expanded song structures, electronics and atmospherics, and experiments with producer Mike Thorne in the studio that was, in many ways, a world away from their debut Pink Flag, while a further extension from the follow-up Chairs Missing.  

The quartet of Colin Newman (vocals, guitars), Graham Lewis (vocals, bass), Bruce Gilbert (guitar, vocals), and Robert Gotobed (Grey) on drums delivered an album filled with diversity, quirkiness, drama and tension, and a solid balance of catchy hooks and experimental stylings.  Standouts for this listener include "2 People In A Room." "The 15th," "A Touching Display," "I Should Have Known Better," "Blessed State," "40 Versions," and "Map Ref. 41 [degrees]N, 93 [degrees]W," though the whole original album is strong.

There are a few bonus tracks that can be interesting, especially as a couple hint at what Lewis and Gilbert would do with their fascinating Dome project, which followed after Wire called it a day not long after 154 was released.  Newman's A-Z solo record purported contained much of what would have been the band's fourth album, but that would wait until Wire reformed in the mid-Eighties and significantly retooled their sound.

Then there was the remarkable chaos that was Document and Eyewitness that followed 154 and the title of which reflected the disintegration as it was happening on stage, but we'll see if that appears here at a future date!

Wire: Object 47

Wire has been a consistent presence on the playlist of late, particularly albums made since Object 47, the first recording after the departure of Bruce Gilbert, was released in 2008.

While there have been lots of commentary on how many late-period Wire albums just don't measure up to the groundbreaking, innovative work of early classics like Pink Flag or Chairs Missing, those remarks seem inherently unfair.

This is especially true because, how many bands that came up in the late Seventies when Wire did, are even still around, much less regularly releasing new material of consistent high quality, as opposed to, say, running around the reunion and revival circuit rehashing the greatest hits from days of yore?

Having not heard Wire until 1987 probably precludes obsessive comparisons between recent material and the early recordings that inspire so much nostalgia, much of it understandable.  Still, how about looking at the later-period albums on the merits.

Given the above, Object 47 was, after the abrasive and bracing blast that was the remarkable Send (2004) including a Los Angeles performance at a small venue that was blisteringly loud, a reflection of how the three-piece without Gilbert could carry on and make excellent music that carries the spirit of Wire forward.

"One of Us" is one of many Wire tunes that, in a more equitable but likely improbable world, would be a hit.  It has a fine Graham Lewis' bass riff, an anthemic chorus, an excellent Colin Newman vocal, and Robert Grey's metronomic drumming holding the piece tightly together.

In fact, the album's sequencing is very strong with "Mekon Headman" (mistaken by some as an attack on the cult band, The Mekons) and "Perspex Icon" being other highlights.  "Hard Currency" has a hypnotic bass line and some fine stop-time breaks along with Grey's cymbals as the main rhythmic guide. The finale, "All Fours" has a growling guitar riff with the bass and drums in a propulsive synchronicity under which is maybe Newman's best vocal on the album.  Page Hamilton's "feedback storm" adds a welcome measure of extra tension and texture.  It was a great way to end an excellent and reaffirming recording.

So, whatever the comparisons to the "good old days" might be, Object 47 was proof positive that Wire without Gilbert was not only viable, but capable of great artistic relevance and development.  Things just got better with such recordings as Change Becomes Us, Red Barked Trees and subsquent albums, especially Wire.

Wire: Change Becomes Us

Having recently read Wilson Neate's very detailed biography of Wire, one of the main themes of the book was the struggle between creating experimental art music and also having enough pop sensibilities to sell some records and keep the project viable.  The book makes clear that the push-and-pull was largely between Bruce Gilbert, who was dedicated completely to the former, and Colin Newman, who liked to experiment (especially on his solo albums) but also pushed to have enough accessibility to make sure the band could survive in the marketplace.

The 2004 album Send, a bracing, remarkable record that seems to strike a balance and which was, according to the book, Newman and Gilbert working closely together to reconcile their varying tendencies, proved to be the end of the band's original lineup.  Gilbert left soon after and has not been particularly active on recordings, though he has worked on other projects more to his liking.

A previous owner of the disc put a sticker that could not be removed on the front cover, which is why only this much is shown!

As for Wire, they kept on, working with other guitarists before having Matthew Simms, a much younger musician, join the band as an official member.  Neate's book points out that the group has become much more of what Newman had always intended and, whatever the success of that might be, Wire very much remains an active and intriguing band.  Not as experimental as it once was, but for gents of a certain age and given how few bands of the late Seventies are still making original and viable music, the group consistently delivers great music. 

In 2013, Wire put out Change Becomes Us, in which the quartet revisited and retooled a group of songs from more than thirty years prior, many of which were to be on an album following their first trio of classics: Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154.  The band imploded before that record could be made and the strange, though fascinating, Document and Eyewitness, featured live "performance art" renditions of many of these tunes, while others appeared in various iterations elsewhere.

So, as a consolation prize . . .

Change Becomes Us is an intriguing project, taking songs that in most cases successfully blend accessbility with experimentation and presenting them in the "modern" Wire format, honed since Gilbert's departure.  Robert Grey's steady precision continues to be essential, Graham Lewis' bass also anchors the tunes with fluidity and solidity and his lyrics are always interesting and arresting and Simms helps flesh out the sound in understated, but important, ways.

For those of us who only got the barest of glimpses into the possibility of what Document and Eyewitness and other sources hinted at, Change Becomes Us is a realization that shows that the ideas were largely sound and that the recent development of the band provides a maturity and craftsmanship that shows that Wire has so much to offer more than four decades after it first made a splash in the punk era.

Wire: Send

After another lengthy hiatus, beginning in 1992, Wire reemerged a decade later determined to push themselves in an expected direction.  With 2003's Send, which followed from and incorporated some songs from the two Read & Burn EPs, the band blazed, blasted and blew (largely) through a blistering barrage of tunes that showed that they were as delightfully idiosyncratic and creative as ever.

Anyone who saw Wire live during that period, as this blogger did for the first time at a Los Angeles show, it was more than a surprising to be confronted with a level of volume that was as loud as any concert experienced before.

But, the songs worked well in that maelstrom.  "In the Art of Stopping," "Comet," "The Agfers of Kodack," "Spent," and more are just built for speed and noise.  The live album, The Scottish Play: 2004 (a neat little play on The Bard) gives some idea of what Wire's music of that period sounded like in person, though it's obviously not possible to replicate the sonic assault.

But, that's not all that Send and related recordings from those first few years of the 2000s was about.  For one thing, although there are electronic treatments added for color and adornment, especially on "Read and Burn" it was great to be able to hear Robert Grey (Gotobed) playing a real drumkit again and performing with his old metronomic reliability.  Not that the late 80s version of Wire wasn't great--there was much to enjoy there--but the driving intensity of Send would not obviously have been anywhere near possible without Grey's drumming.

And, of course, there's Colin Newman's ironic, Cockney-inflected vocals--often supremely sarcastic, witty and insightful, and sometimes bellowing, as on the staggering "Spent."  Occasionally, Graham Lewis's voice, though definitely cigarette-burnished (or burned), comes out particularly effectively, even if processed, in the raging, biting "The Agfers of Kodack."  Though to hear him sing the tune on The Scottish Play reveals painfully what the years of smoking had done.

Finally, there is the production, which somehow manages to sound raw and polished all at the same time, due to the care and consideration taken by Newman, who has mixed all of Wire's music since at his home studio, Swim.

Some bands maintain remarkable longevity by falling back on past glories; others build upon their history while adding new dimensions by looking forward.  Wire is definitely the latter, even after Bruce Gilbert departed in 2004.  Their subsequent albums have all been great and their latest release, the mini-LP Nocturnal Koreans, shows that they are still very much forward thinking.