Wire - Chairs Missing
Harvest
September 8th, 1978.
The second album from the purveyors of post-punk and everything thereafter, Wire, sees the speed and energy of Pink Flag distilled down into slower and more patient material - the band harness time in their favour rather than see it as something to race against. Chairs Missing is ahead of its time; ahead of the time that it's ahead of - ahead of itself, but not in that manner.
Practice makes perfect and so does patience. The willingness to wait for the right time, instead of chasing it, results in a more mature affair. Pink Flag generally stuck to the ethos of 'no time to waste' - straight for the jugular - whereas Chairs Missing tends to take the time that it needs. There's no rushing greatness - these things take what they will. Chairs Missing plays more into the hands of menacing and maniacal as opposed to jumped-up, energetic and in your face - elements of soundscapes and slow building aesthetics come into being. Bouts of broodingly apprehensive walls of sound - crushing and glacial - occur quite often. Harnessing the characteristics of what would later become post-punk - atmospherically-tinged spaces and underlying experimentation in line with a punk approach - Wire showcase their ability to move forward with their sound and build on the foundations that Pink Flag set, although Chairs Missing exists in something of another universe in comparison.
It's the finer details which add so much - nuance separates the good from the great; punk from post-punk. Outdoor Miner's soft touch caresses in a rough and ready way. A beautiful moment in a fairly cold and uncaring world.
He lies on his side. Is he trying to hide? In fact, it's the earth which he's known since birth.
