album // Pink Flag
It's not particularly surprising that punk itself did not produce anything other than a handful of truly classic albums. 'Post punk' on the other hand – that brief flurry of inventiveness that followed in punk's wake – managed to germinate and develop a number of successful acts that lasted the pace and, in Wire's case at least, are still with us. Of the classic post-punk albums, Pink Flag is perhaps the best.
Over 21 tracks (2 extra are included on the CD), Wire's early premise becomes incredibly clear – short salvoes of pure punk thrashed-out speed noise sit uncomfortably next to longer, more expansive and slower pieces. For a genre obsessed with speed and for a band whose popular anthem '12XU' - allegedly a song about sexuality and censorship, with the 'X' replacing the word 'f##k' - drew in the interest of the die-hard punks, the core quartet of sludgy, fuzzed-up, half-speed tracks ('Lowdown', 'Reuters', 'Strange' and 'Pink Flag') must have appeared to be skinhead-baiting. However, in Wire's grand strategy, challenging listening perceptions was central to their artistic leanings.
What's also telling about Wire's approach to punk's hinterlands did not take in socio-political themes. They were not great campaigners, they didn't stand for anything other than the integration of art into music. Not in the jazz sense, wherein improvisation simulates the thought processes of an artist, but in the sense of being totally honed, well-practiced and focused. Each track on Pink Flag is tight and precise, with the instrumentation - even on the shorter pieces such as 'Field Day For The Sundays' – frequently developing within the confines of time and form. Bruce Gilbert's guitar work, in particular, recalls his later solo works – slow-developing, gaining and expanding over time. Over this, Colin Newman's counter-playing likewise develops, invariably from simple repetitive riffs into fuzzed-up blocks of abrasiveness. Graham Lewis' basswork is a constant anchor for the guitars, even when they are separating and dividing, while Robert Gotobed's frantic yet controlled drumming keep the guys in militaristic line. Even on tracks such as 'Surgeon's Girl', or 'Pink Flag', where the song appears to be set to fall in on itself toward the end displays the control and precision to which we have become accustomed to, where, just at the last minute, control prevails and – as one – the four-piece snap back together instantly and the track abruptly concludes.
The tracks on Pink Flag exude a confidence and fitness that belies this as a debut album. One gets the impression that, despite the speed of delivery of 'Mr Suit' or 'It's So Obvious', Wire sound like they are rarely breaking a sweat. Indeed, after seeing them live in 2000, it would appear to be true.
While the set-up is within the context of punk, the lyrics are wholly other. Reading through the booklet, you realise that the lyrics are frequently just collections of words, fragments of sentences, no stories, no hidden messages, To me, they remind me of the short stories of Franz Kafka – the point rarely revealed, the direction unclear. Perhaps less oblique than some of their later output, the lyrics here nevertheless show just how keen Wire were to shake-up traditional rock – perhaps the most 'punk' of their propositions. They just happened to use rock as a medium.
Wire performed Pink Flag in its entirety in April 2003 at London's Barbican Centre. To know that each and every track were performed in sequence confirms that the album was somehow conceived, executed and delivered as a concept. Who says art has no place in music?