Monthly Archives: May 2018

Wire’s first three albums hold a special place in the rock pantheon. Announcing their presence with sharp, lean, fascinating distinctiveness that seemed fully formed, they proceeded to move forward and expand rather than backslide or stagnate. On May 18, the band’s label Pinkflag is rereleasing those three records as special edition CD books. 80 pages each and sized like 45s, they sport introductions by Jon Savage and further insights by Graham Duff; on July 6, standard vinyl and CDs editions will follow, and whichever way one chooses to put them on the shelf, all are essential. Today we dive into the first, 1977’s Pink Flag.

It doesn’t matter if it was heard in 1977 or discovered long after, the immediate reaction to Pink Flag is one of difference, especially when considered in the context of first-wave punk. Released by EMI via the Harvest imprint in November of ’77, the record offered 21 songs in 35 and a half minutes and set Wire so far apart from the pack (standing out even from the other great bands of the era) that it’s no surprise it wasn’t a hit.

It’s by now cemented as lore that for those who did scoop Pink Flag up, it felt like an exit route from the box punk was rapidly building for itself; more than one observer has opined that it’s an example of post-punk from before the term was coined. This isn’t off-target, though it’s quite apparent that Chairs Missing and 154 are the album’s in Wire’s early discography that best fit the post-punk mold (they are in fact cornerstones of the genre).

Pink Flag continues to register as an introductory statement from a band who welcomed punk’s inclusionary street-level ethos and stripped-down method while rejecting a boilerplate approach, but more importantly, they didn’t reject prior, formative influences. The point emphasized in Graham Duff’s spotlight into Wire’s early days (which evolved from a three-guitar no-drummer affair called Overload) was that, like many a garage band, they were learning as they went; learning their instruments, learning that three guitars don’t constitute a band, and learning that some members simply aren’t a good fit.

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If you stress it, they’ll press it. —Ed.

VIA PRESS RELEASE | Guadalcanal Diary exploded on the scene in 1985 when the previous year’s Walking in the Shadow of the Big Man was issued via Elektra Records and spawned the hit “Watusi Rodeo.”

Over the next four years, Murray Attaway (vocals, guitar), Jeff Walls (guitar, vocals), Rhett Crowe (bass, vocals), and John Poe (drums, vocals) released three more critically acclaimed albums before calling it a day. The band reconvened for live shows in the late ’90s; tape was rolling during a two-night stand at Smith’s Olde Bar in Atlanta, Ga., January 1998. The following year, At Your Birthday Party was self-released as a thank-you to “Guadal fans everywhere.”

This 16-track performance finally will receive worldwide distribution on July 13, 2018 via Omnivore Recordings, with updated artwork and new liner notes from Attaway. It encompasses everything their fans love about the band — favorites from all four Elektra releases, as well as one song that only appears on this collection, plus the hooks and passion that filled venues.

According to Attaway, from the liner notes, “After doing one solo album in L.A., I wanted to go back to the South and record with musicians who were pals and who had the same record collection that I had…A lot of tracks that I love came from those sessions, but others seemed like Guadalcanal songs. Guadal needed to do them. So Rhett Crowe, John Poe, and Jeff Walls all agreed to play on the tracks.

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Press Play is our Monday recap of the new and FREE tracks received last week to inform the next trip to your local indie record store.

Jon Patrick Walker – I Won’t Sit Around & Cry
Darlin Darlin – Easy
Nikkie – Deep Cry
Brandon Grafius – Things Get Right
Sleepy Zuhoski – On A Cloud
Joel Levi – Will We Ever Change?

TVD SINGLE OF THE WEEK:
Delorentos – In Darkness We Feel Our Way

Cosmos Sunshine – The Bomb
the black watch – Oh You Little Witch!
The Color Forty Nine – I Will
DEZORAH – Aware
Broken Baby – Year of the Fat Man
Metal Mother – Pris

So my physicist buddy Stoner Doug finally managed to construct an actual time machine and was like, “Where should we go?” And we looked at each other and without even having to think about it shouted in perfect sync, “Hot August Night!” Because who wouldn’t have wanted to be at The Greek Theater on that historic August night in 1972 when Neil “Beautiful Noise” Diamond put it all out there in an orgiastic celebration of cosmic shlock?

Forget Elvis! Forget Chuck Berry! Forget Jesus Christ! This was NEIL at his Forever in Blue Jeans best, giving it his all! The Greatest Concert Ever! You don’t hear about it much because the story got suppressed by Neil’s record label, but 15 people died on that sultry August night! Steamed to death by sheer joy!

And Doug and I wanted to be two of them. So we climbed into his primitive time capsule made out of aluminum siding and flattened Dr. Pepper cans with a big sign on a stick reading “We LOVE you Neil!” And following a dramatic WHOOSH and the shriek of the time machine’s 350 Small Block Chevy engine there we were, sitting in Row Three beside a 50-year-old woman from Reno who told us she owned 13 cats all of whom were named Neil (if male) or Diamond (if female).

And there he was! Neil in the flesh! Just like on the cover of Hot August Night on which he appears to be jerking himself off! And why not? If anybody has the right to stroke his shtupper in front of an audience of thousands it’s Neil, who is THE songwriter of our time! The Brill Building savant who came up with such master strokes of pop brilliance as “Cherry, Cherry,” “Sweet Caroline,” and “Song Sung Blue”! To say nothing of the deep philosophical meditation that is “I Am, I Said,” in which an existentially alone Neil complains that nobody will listen to him, not even his chair!

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We’ve closed up the shop for our annual spring break. While we’re away, why not fire up our free Record Store Locator app and visit one of your local indie record stores?

Perhaps there’s an interview, review, or feature you might have missed? Catch up and we’ll see you back here on Monday, 5/14.

VIA PRESS RELEASE | Brooklyn artist and musician Alexander Heir has created one of the defining aesthetics of the contemporary underground music scene, through more than 15 years of design and printing work for countless international punk and metal artists.

His work has graced the albums, singles, and flyers of highly regarded artists such as The Mob, Martin Rev of Suicide, Warthog, and John Carpenter, and his commission work includes ephemera for horror films It Follows and The Puppet Man. Similarly, his clothing brand Death/Traitors has become a counterculture staple, reaching beyond the hardcore punk community, while still embracing its values. Members of Three Six Mafia, Antwon, Fucked Up, and Odd Future have all been known to support the brand.

In addition to his design and commission work, Heir also fronts the industrial punk band L.O.T.I.O.N. and has a prolific artistic practice of personal work. Heir has exhibited around the world, including a solo show at Boo-Hooray in New York City in support of his first book, Death Is Not the End.

WARRR2K∞/Work 2014-17 showcases all of Alexander Heir’s visual work created since the release of his last book, Death Is Not the End, in addition to a new full-color series exclusive to this volume. Expanding upon war, police brutality, political corruption, and death as his canon of punk subject matter, his latest work brings sci-fi and psychedelia influences into the fold, blending them with his impeccable design aesthetic and signature sense of twisted playfulness. The result shows Heir making his most sophisticated, detailed and demented work to date.

NYC Release Party/Show at Boo-Hooray on June 21, 6pm–9pm.

“Growing up in a small town outside of Manchester, NH (or “Manch-Vegas” as the locals called it) could get lonely sometimes. The music scene then was mostly made of nu-metal bands or cover bands and that was decidedly not the kind of music I was into making. I felt no camaraderie or connection to a scene.”

“One day I found a store tucked in a nondescript plaza near the Mall of New Hampshire. It was a record store called Music Connection. Whether intended or not the name was more than apt: I had found the connection I was looking for. It was a window, a glimpse into a life I didn’t have now but maybe could have some day.

I would visit every week, checking the new arrivals or ordering records they didn’t have from the old man at the desk, who must’ve been around 150 years old at the time if I had to guess. After a while I developed a system where I would limit myself to two purchases a week: one record that was considered a “must have” in a collection and one that I personally wanted to have : Abbey Road / Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Ramones / Bee Thousand, Sticky Fingers / #1 Record.

Sometimes, I would go just to hang out. When I was broke and knew I wasn’t going to buy anything I’d wander around, occasionally picking up a record, checking the back, scratching my chin like I was thinking about something. The experience of being in the store felt tantamount to the music I was buying. I imagined it was what the Replacements or Sonic Youth did when they were young, and I wanted to feel like they did. For a moment I wanted to feel like I was in a big city where people dug vinyl and that I was an artist making music that was important.

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