Totally Wired 10.10.02: Unpopular Pop Music
Posted by Garrett Martin on 10.10.2002
In Which the Wire Live Review is Completed, and Random Notes of Interest are Discussed
Yes. To recap: it’s Saturday, September 21, 2002, in Atlanta, Georgia. Obsessive music fans young and old pack East Atlanta’s Echo Lounge rock club, anxiously awaiting the first ever Atlanta show from legendary old grumps WIRE. Opening act Oxes, of the Baltimore Oxes, and of “Oxes Suck Coxxes” fame, do their little math-rock schtick complete with wireless guitarists running about the audience as the drummer sits alone and bored-looking on stage. Said drummer, slightly looking sorta like a less beastly Jack Black, tries to cut the humorous fool, but thoroughly lacks any conviction in that role whatsoever. The sold-out crowd is tolerant, if not excited. More time is spent keeping a head’s-up for a stray guitarist than in actually paying attention to the music, and one gets the feeling that the Oxes realize and appreciate that. If you think you’d be interested in a boring Don Caballero rip-off with a whole host of forced and only very occasionally humorous idiosyncrasies and/or affectations, then by all means pick up some of them records the Oxes have released on Monitor Records. The Oxes most likely do have their time and their place, but unfortunately it wasn’t on this night, as they made quite the incongruous opener.
Alright, with the support out of the way, and with the buzzing tin of anticipation seeping through the sweat-soaked crowd, the stage was set both literally and metaphorically for one hell of a memorable rock/roll show. But first, a note on Wire shows. As mentioned in my previous column, Wire has always been infamous for not playing old material. In their ‘70’s heyday they were known to tour for a record without playing a single song from it, electing instead to perform a set made up of more recently written songs that had yet to be released. During their first resuscitation, in the ‘80’s, they refused to play any of their ‘70’s songs at all, even bringing a Wire cover band on tour to open up shows and appease the nostalgic impulses of the audience. But in a startling about-face, Wire Mark III’s first show in 2000 was composed pretty much entirely of older material, and their subsequent tour included a combination of ‘70’s, ‘80’s, and newer tunes. So a big question going into this show in Atlanta was whether or not they’d dust off the old chestnuts everybody was itching to hear, or solely play stuff off the two eps they’ve released in 2002. Those records, two six-song eps each entitled Read and Burn, easily make up Wire’s best and most rocking material since their first disbandment; still, though, a number of Wire fans dislike them, largely on account of the slight industrial / electronic tone on the guitars. One friend maintains the new music sounds like Skinny Puppy, which, although not entirely correct, makes a little bit of sense, at least in terms of the sonic qualities of the mechanical-sounding (and yet entirely man-made) guitars and drums. But so for a number of fans present a tiny twinge of trepidation got all mixed up within the anticipation, a faint but incessant bite of doubt nagging at the back of the brain, casting aspersions upon the prospective quality of the imminent rock spectacle. These concerns, in the end, proved to be baseless.
Yes, Wire came to town that late summer evening, and to the auspices of any right-thinking man, lady, or child-thing, the results were simply fantastic. The four haggard old men that ambled out on stage resembled professors and grandfathers more than rock stars (or perhaps even a cancer ward, considering the blinding baldness of three-quarters of the group), and yet they furiously rocked with greater passion and conviction than just about any other band I’ve seen this year. Lead singer Colin Newman, the only one sporting anything close to a full head of hair, barked out his caustic barbs, and jerked about animatedly, contrasting greatly with fellow guitarist Bruce Gilbert, who stirred only to walk off-stage after the last song. Graham Lewis, bass-player and George Harrison to Gilbert and Newman’s Lennon and McCartney, bore a strong resemblance both physically and vocally to that guy who played the title character in “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”, while drummer Robert “Gotobed” Grey looked a hell of a lot like bandmate Gilbert. From their appearance one would never suspect the awesome force of their brilliant rock bullshit.
But so they started to play, and to the dismay of the historians and the nostalgic among the crowd, the main set consisted entirely of the 12 songs from the Read and Burn eps. The show commenced with the only down point, an embarrassing, wince-inducing solo piece by Newman called “99.9”. What’s good on record isn’t always good live, as Newman’s ridiculous hippity-hopping and scabrous shouting over a sustained drone proved over seven painful minutes. After that, the rest of the band walked out, and they proceeded to savagely tear into their recent work. Highlights included amazing renditions of “The Art of Stopping” and “I Don’t Understand”, both from Read and Burn Volume 1. Despite the fact that I was far more jazzed about potentially seeing the old stuff, I was blown away by the raw power of these new songs, not all of which I was familiar with. Whereas some of Read and Burn sounds too processed and digital, in a live setting Wire ripped out the jagged chaotic heart of their new work, stripping down the polish (what little there is on Read and Burn) and rocking the ever-lovin’ shit out of this stuff. It’s rare to undergo revelations at rock shows after having been to hundreds and hundreds of them, but that is exactly what I experienced at this Wire show, and I fully realized that before they even came back out for their two encores. Those who came to see vintage Wire got their wish, as the band returned to the stage and immediately went into the first song on their first album, the harrowing news-reel depiction of Third World corruption “Reuters”. They followed this up with a scorching version of “Pink Flag” that reduced a big room full of a thousand music dorks of all ages into one large protoplasmic sludge of complete undiluted bliss. A short break led to a final one-song encore, Pink Flag’s “Lowdown”, a monumental fitting end to this night of wish fulfillment, as various middle-aged punk fans, as hairless and aged as their musical heroes, finally experienced something they’d fantasized about for a quarter of a century. Jesus, what a God-damned great rock show.
BRIEF NOTES
Wow, these last two columns have gone deep into overtime, and for that I apologize, my faithful friends. I have a few last minute notes to mention, and then I’ll be letting you get on your way there back to the ol’ hot-dog stand or race track or wherever it is you go when you finish reading this nonsense.
1. Hot-shit Austin rock band (and huge Wire fanatics) SPOON continue touring in support of their latest album Kill the Moonlight (Merge Records, 2002). Last time I saw Spoon they actually closed their set with a cover of Wire’s “Lowdown” that was fairly enjoyable. Anyhow, they’ve somehow grown from a decent but nondescript generic scruffy-indie-rock combo with an outsized Pixies-jones (circa ‘95’s Telephono) into one of America’s finest contemporary rock conflagrations. Moonlight continues the less blatantly rockist motif that Spoon started up with the Loveways ep and Girls Can Tell album (both on Merge, 2001). Merge also recently reissued Spoon’s excellent 1998 full-length A Series of Sneaks (a slight take-off on the name of the Wire song “A Serious of Snakes”?) that dates back to Spoon’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sub-six month dalliance with Elektra Records. Yes, well, Spoon’s on tour, folks, and they’re playing with some damn fine bands, such as Eric Bachmann’s post-Archers of Loaf vehicle Crooked Fingers and California’s the Young People (whose recent record on 5 Rue Christie is quite spectacular). You can catch Spoon and assorted contemporaries on these dates and at these dank hellholes (date/town/venue/support):
October 15: Austin, TX. Mercury. W/ Crooked Fingers, Fivehead
October 16: Boulder, CO. Tulagi’s. W/ The Oranges Band.
October 17: Boise, ID. Neurolux. W/ The Oranges Band.
October 18: Portland, OR. Berbati’s. W/ The Oranges Band.
October 19: Seattle, WA. Graceland. W/ The Oranges Band, Treasure State.
October 21: San Francisco, CA. Slim’s. W/ The Oranges Band, Golden Graham.
October 23: L. A., CA. Troubadour. W/ The Oranges Band, Young People.
October 24: San Diego, CA. The Casbah. W/ The Oranges Band, Young People.
October 25: Tucson, AZ. Club Congress. W/ The Oranges Band.
October 26: Albuquerque, NM. The Launchpad. W/ The Oranges Band.
2. Each One Teach One, the crazed double-lp mastodon from Brooklyn fuckers Oneida, was just re-released as a double-cd set on Jagjaguwar Records. I hesitate to say this, since a good fifty percent of all the records reviewed here at 411 are called the album of the year, but in this one simple individual’s honest opinion, Each One Teach One truly is the most engrossing record of 2002. Be warned, however, that this neo-noise-psych masterpiece could very well drive you to the brink of sanity and/or shit-faced-ness. Um, yeah. I’ll have more on Oneida in a few days, friends.
3. And finally, Bright Eyes just might not be the worst band in the world, after all. I actually heard a song by that little twerp that didn’t make me quiver with spastic spasms of violent ill will. It wasn’t too good, or nothing, but it also didn’t make any veins pop in my head, neither. I mean, yeah, I’ll still give him the ol’ stink-eye next time I see him at the Taco Stand, but I no longer feel an overwhelming desire to act out any infantile and immature violent tendencies upon his fragile young being, you know?
Alrighty folks – write with whatever to thehoaryhosts@yahoo.com. If you are so inclined, you can check out other writings by yours truly at Delusions of Adequacy, a musical enterprise much like this establishment here. Thanks friends, and keep it up.
