A deliberately frothy take on an under-documented moment in US politics
Black Wire : Attack! Attack! Attack!
Fresh, fun and fucked-up...
first album. Bonding instantly, they formed Black Wire and
set about fashioning a viciously powerful buzz-blitz from
a knackered keyboard, someone else's guitar and a temperamental drum machine.
Since then, Black Wire have kind of learned to play their instruments, or at least plug them in. More importantly, they look amazing onstage and off, like emaciated catwalk waifs shoehorned into tight black leather and razzled on White Lightning and prescription amphetamines; impossibly photogenic disco zombies who've already upstaged playmates Rapture, Ladytron and Pink Grease. When they recently performed at hip shindig Nag Nag Nag, aged queen Boy George was so aroused his make-up melted into a creamy sludge around his Manolos. But don't let that put you off.
'Attack! Attack! Attack!' and its even better B-side 'Very Gun' is Black Wire's killer debut, an intoxicating double-measure of spiky glam nihilism that recalls Iggy And The Stooges, Selfish Cunt, [/a], [a]Sisters Of Mercy and Elastica without sounding horrifically contrived. Fresh, fun and fucked-up, Black Wire make being in a band seem like the best idea in the world and piss all over their peers by virtue of giving the impression of being recklessly irresponsible while creating a brilliantly scabrous, quasi-seditious cacophony that annihilates dancefloors. What more do you want? Blood? That'll come, you sick bastards. Thick and fast.
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