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Music brainiac Brian Turner reveals a rare and fantastic record from his secret stash—hey, quit drooling on the magazine!

June 1, 2023
Brian Turner

Founded in London in 1976, Wire quickly became both a peerless counterpart to the burgeoning punk scene sprouting around them and an antidote to it. Inspired by the do-it-yourself concept that anything can be music, their art school backgrounds engaged the scene with similar amped-up sonic fury to contemporaries like the Sex Pistols, albeit with a more engaging motif of experimentation, dissection, and investigation into what music itself could be. It all was reshaped to this new environment of no rules. Sure enough, being the brainiacs they were, they took their fair share of gobbing from the punk crowds early on, but buoyed somewhat by high-profile label support and press, plus continued reinvention (and reshaping to a quartet after shedding fifth member George Gil), the equal partnership of Colin Newman, Robert Grey (then Gotobed), Graham Lewis, and Bruce Gilbert quickly staked terrain as something wholly unique, cerebral yet still primal. Their reinvention has continued right up to today.

Maximal minimalism. Wire’s 1977-79 output—their first three LPs, Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154—embodied this concept. As mentioned about the more effusively gonzo (but no less serious with their “maximal minimalism’’) American duo Sparks in their recent Edgar Wright documentary The Sparks Brothers: “People were influenced by them over the years who didn’t even know they were influenced by them.” Not that the parallel exists fully between the two entities: Sparks leapfrogged from glam to proto-disco (among other things) from record to record, incorporating singular theories and approaches, whereas Wire’s first three jammers were full of so many conceptual ideas elbowing for space that the sugar-coma richness of the listening experience almost made you feel overstuffed. Pink Flag saw the artful dissolution of rock ’n’ roll itself into its working parts of bare necessities (take the title track’s one-chord solution), Chairs Missing built layers onto that foundation, then 154 arrived at the most abstract bubbling point the band had achieved to date. All within a couple of years. What other band could spawn everything from Minor Threat (and, as a result, an American hardcore movement) as well as the expansiveness of, say, My Bloody Valentine? Without doubt, Wire invented something wholly unique and untouchable that is still being unraveled in its long-term impact on us all.

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