Wire are the only band I’ve doubled up on, my obsession with them having flared up in the last month. I might have nominated “Outdoor Miner” in this category, although its lyrics—a sort of pastoral which combines leaf-eating insect larvae, shepherding and sleep—are a model of clarity compared to “Kidney Bingos”. Wire songs, especially from their 80s albums, occasionally reveal a gay subtext of a particularly British kind (“drag my canal / you saucy old salt”, “kneeling for pleasure”), like an avant-garde counterpoint to Morrissey, but the “organ fun” in ‘Kidney Bingos’ seems to be of another, and much more disquieting, order. A perfect pop setting for an impenetrable concrete poem.
Money spines, paper lung, kidney bingos, organ fun.