Wire - On The Box: 1979
Wire. Noun. A thin strand of metal often capable of conducting electricity or producing music when vibrated. Wire. Noun. The best art-punk band of the 1970’s. British. 4 of them. Colin Newman, Graham Lewis, Bruce Gilbert, and Robert Grey. Wire made an intense, electrifying, and minimalist sound. Wire distilled the excess fat out of an already lean punk music (the fat being the usual excess verses and choruses,) revealing brilliant new melody structures via two-minute, even one-minute anthems. Art-punk. Wire took their art seriously. Rare is the dud among their three-album reign in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Wire took their punk seriously. Rather than being outright nasty to their audience á la Johnny Rotten, Wire were more passive-aggressive. Wire refused all trappings of rock stars and punk stars alike, replacing naïve crusades for world peace, hedonistic tales of sensory overload and cavorting with groupies, stupid end-game jam-offs - poofy hair a-flailing, as well as over-angry diatribes directed at nothing at all…replacing all this on stage with an intense passion to speak to their audience as a band, not as individuals. Nor did Wire want their audience to speak back. On this video live set, the only band-audience interaction consisted of a call for a request, and the curt “We don’t do requests” from Lewis. Similarly, the last cataclysm of noise on the last song of the show was cut short by half the band members already walking off stage! No bows, no explanations, just bam! they’re done. Not coincidentally, so many Wire songs end this unexpectedly. When the gold begins to run thin, Wire turns off the faucet. Similarly, when they ran out of ideas in 1980, they disbanded. Sure, Wire came back with some crappy records half a decade later. Sure, Wire have recently again re-banded, but according to Pink Flag Archive Research, who released this live CD/DVD, [Pink Flag is the title of Wire’s debut record] this disc provides the only live video testament to that gloriously perfect first incarnation of Wire. In other words, this is it.
Of course, the best thing about this release is that you can see them play. The visual aspect of Wire’s live show is surprisingly important, despite the band’s fierce minimalism. It’s fascinatingly boring, even amusing, to watch the accompanying interview made the same night. There are hijinks you pick up with the video that you wouldn’t otherwise get. Colin Newman’s energy of a Cockney streetfighter. Graham Lewis’s resemblance to Val Kilmer. In a mullet. Bruce Gilbert’s taciturnity, never moving from his position all show, staring at the floor during most of the interview. Robert Grey’s wordless intensity that we fear he’s become robot. In the interview we learn he’s just shy. Other things. I laughed so hard the first time I saw Newman vigorously pump his guitar neck up and down like a swaying Hee-Haw balladeer on fast-forward. And later his theatrical genius, completely freezing in an odd posture, arms askew, while the darkened stage was filled with Lewis’s speaker feedback at the end of “Former Airline.” Newman’s stage presence was huge (otherworldly even) in the midst of that sonic chaos because he was standing still. Of course, any actor could tell you that stillness lends stage power, but judging by most rock stars’ histrionics, unlike Wire, they haven’t figured this out.
The feeble studio audience’s response to the band bears no relation to the strength of Wire’s set. This one is probably more representative of Wire’s stage show than the other officially-released chaos that is Document and Eyewitness. True, you can hear more of the errors on the audio-only version of On the Box (both CD and DVD of the same show are included in the case), but there is no doubt that that night Wire was at the top of their game. The end-show applause almost trickled down to nothing before Wire finally returned for an encore, one they probably had been talked into by prearrangement. But heck, we can’t blame the studio audience for not “getting” Wire. Do we blame most of the rest of the world? No, but maybe Wire did. They were truly one of the great bands of the 70’s, and they must have known it. And yet they never broke out beyond their small, devoted following.
But what do you care about any of that? You want to know if you should buy this release. Well, O.K., punk, you should. If this is your first introduction to Wire, I’d still probably suggest that you start with one of their studio albums, probably Pink Flag. However, these press materials can be summarized as saying: “Wire Live, This Is It!” And they’re right. It’s an awesome show. The sound isn’t as calculated as their studio albums, but you get so many other things that could only come out in a live setting.
Some highlights. “Two People In a Room”: they’re picking their guitars so fast that they don’t look real. “I Feel Mysterious Today”: proves that Wire isn’t always serious and are capable of weird silliness like some early Who numbers. “Practice Makes Perfect”: Grey’s incredibly detail-specific drumming and Lewis’s maniacal laughter. “Map Reference 43 Degrees…”: Newman and Lewis prove to us that they are capable of singing nice harmonies instead of the usual congested punk shouting from Newman and the odd secondary commentary by Lewis. “Mercy”: this uncharacteristically long one is great! Wire, playing the marathon anthem. Who’d have thought it? “Heartbeat”: this quieter number closes the regular set. Instead of ending with a big bang, they go out with a whisper. Not incidentally, Newman’s enunciated whisper does sound “like a heartbeat.” (Those are the lyrics.)
Half of them have walked off the stage while the other half are still finishing the final flourish. As Gilbert walks by the microphone, he appropriates it briefly to speak his only line during the whole show: “Thank you.”
www.pinkflag.com
