After finishing his adventure with Wire, Colin Newman made his solo debut in 1980 with "A-Z", under the production of Mike Thorne. An extraordinary work, which continues on the path marked by Wire with "154", exacerbating even more, if possible, the neurasthenic factor.
"A-Z" is indeed a dazzling fresco of modernism, a vessel filled with fears and anxieties for an uncertain and dangerous future, laden with emotional tension often on the verge of collapse, rich with damnably fascinating insights. Dark, claustrophobic, schizoid, projected into grey meanders like concrete, tall and imposing like a skyscraper looming mercilessly over our thinking heads, almost challenging the blue sky. A crossroads of overly crowded streets, alienated like too an unaware passerby, alienating as a car too aware.
Fast as a train defying time, glacial like the desolate steel of its tracks, immobile veins of an invisible mosaic. Newman's voice cries for help and despair, extraordinarily suited to represent this vortex of solitude, almost atonal, is made androgynous by electronics, the master of the record along with the battery's tics, inconsistent and cerebral.
The 14 tracks each draw, in their own way, an extraordinary technological journey, in an aberrant and destructive nightmare, futurist and damnably dramatic.
Synth slashes, violent treated guitar phrases, estranging keyboards bring the listener into the territory the author desired: chaos.
Those who love Wire cannot help but appreciate this album, deserving to be remembered as a masterpiece.
He wanted to scare, disturb, disfigure: he succeeded, and for this, it vanished quickly.
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