Pitchfork

What band could have released not one, not two, but three historic albums (in as many years), each so different from the one that came before, simultaneously spelling out the brittle aesthetics of England's burgeoning punk movement and, in nearly the same breath, eclipsing them while the rest of the pack was still busy learning to tune their guitars? What band would be willing to then walk away from the zenith of their popularity, claiming they simply didn't have another album in them, only to resurface six years later in 1987 for a string of highly dubious (but not hopeless) new-wave castaways? What band would name one of those albums Manscape? And then, what band could spend ten more years in stasis, recuperating, biding their time for their inevitable recovery, to eventually drop a set of EP's so unique, so urgent, that it's as though the band never went away in the first place? Most importantly, even one year ago, who ever would have believed that such a stunning return was possible? No one but Wire.

Read & Burn 02, the second installment of Wire's new three-part mini-series, picks up right where 01 left off; that is, nearly twenty-five years after unleashing the seminal Pink Flag, Wire is continuing to make greatness look easy. In a time when so many bands are content to adapt the sounds of twenty years ago, and The Boils and The Blah Blah Blahs will be the stars of the garage-revival revival five years down the road, it's ironic (really!) that a band that was actually around in the late seventies is releasing music relevant and modern enough that they sound almost as cutting edge now as they did two decades ago. The Read & Burn series draws unavoidably on Wire's past, but the attitude and presentation transmute these fundamentals into something distinctly new.

Clockwork percussion mechanisms, guttural barking, and an abrasive storm of guitars akin to a sandpaper tornado characterized 01, and it was impressive just to hear Wire back in lean, mean fighting form. 02, however, takes these elements a step further, wringing, twisting, and torturing guitars to eke out some of the lacerating, poisonous noise (going well beyond the simple distortion of 01) for which they were famous. If not for these seething tones, 02 could easily become an echo of the first Read & Burn installment, equally impressive, but redundant. Wire's not messing around, though-- naked, venomous aggression and robotic rhythms fuse momentously with six strings' worth of their patented alien sounds. The resulting blast will leave you ducking and covering.

Initially, Wire's newfound rage may be off-putting to those fans whose fondest memories of the band are from pop-informed pleasantries like "Map Ref 41N 93W" or "The 15th". And while there is some historical precedent for the sound invoked by the new material (see "12XU", "Brazil", among others), it does seem to be the case that the melodic offerings they're probably most famous for have nearly disappeared. The vocal harmonies have been completely phased out, and to some extent, the vocals themselves are of tertiary importance outside of a simple rhythmic device. Behind a smiling keyboard refrain and patches of static sweeps and synth washes, the vox on "Read and Burn" are a distorted, screamed rally cry solely to create a martial pace rather than any discernible content. A mutilated chant of, "Nice streets/ Nice streets/ Nice streets above," punctuates an intermittent burble of reverse-recorded lyrics, suffocating as they try desperately to break the surface of "Nice Streets Above". It's claustrophobic, antagonistic, and wonderfully overpowering.

Other songs, like the incomparable "Raft Ants", contain what sounds like lyrics-- though I'll give you one US dollar if you can actually discern what Bruce Gilbert is breaking his lungs to shout at you. Vocal melody is rendered obsolete (again) by the bravado of "Raft Ants"' churning guitars. Wire chooses to supply an almost subliminal sense of melody through feedback undercurrents of whole tones, occasionally diverted by ominous breaks. The dulcet tones are pounded into the background, but rise to fore stronger despite (or because of) it. The ingenious, deep composition of "Raft Ants" makes an embarrassment of entirely too much music, and its interweaving of their early work with their sound from the mid-80s is too impressive to overlook.

Finally, for those that still hunger for the melodious Wire of ye olde 1970s, you haven't been forgotten. "Trash/Treasure" is their gift to you, briefly bringing to mind the drone of "Outdoor Miner" as the song gradually intensifies in a haze of feedback, quickening back towards the frenetic racing speed of the rest of 02, and slowly sinking the lyrical harmonies back into the mix. If nothing else, as it returns to step with the rest, it serves as a reminder that Wire is ready to move on, which is good-- to my ears this track, though excellent, seemed like an antique in the midst of such a seamless blend of new and old. Read & Burn 02 is an unqualified improvement over the excellence of 01. Be sure to stay tuned for the final chapter in Wire's latest saga; the Brit-punk legends have justified their return, and all that's left is to turn eyes toward the future.