Calling anything a "return to form" by Wire would
be ignoring that the band has no form—its career has been dedicated to
reinvention, moving from the angular punk stabs of Pink Flag to the fractured pop of Chairs
Missing
to its dalliance with danceable new wave. The last time Wire rose from the
ashes (for 2003's Send), it was through a haze of violent noise: the sharp young
blades reborn as grumpy old men. For its eleventh album—which the band,
ever minimalist, dutifully notes as its 47th release—those gruffer
tendencies have subsided, perhaps because the band lost guitarist/notorious
crank Bruce Gilbert. Instead, brightly melodic, Madchester-esque tunes like
"One Of Us," "Perspex Icon," and "Four Long Years" are marked by a deadpan wit
suggesting a band that's learned to scoff at, rather than rail against, the
world again: Check Graham Lewis' turn on "Are You Ready?" which turns corporate
clichés like "Are you part of the problem or part of the plan?" into a witty
excoriation of post-millennial emptiness. That hectoring tone is a Wire
trademark—few other bands love the question mark as much as these
guys—but it only goes from arch to annoying on the sole dud, "Patient
Flees" (marred by Colin Newman's rhyme scheme, a grating bit of wordplay
reminiscent of Adam Sandler's Cajun Man). That misstep aside, no band mocks
harder, and Object 47 is a smartly sardonic piece of work on par with Wire's
late-'70s heyday.