Over the Edge- Wipers

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So I thought I would pick a song I like each day, and write some­thing about why I like it, in an attempt to make myself write more often. My tutor at art school was a big believ­er in making people explain why they liked things as a way of analys­is.

I discovered Wipers at the age of 14 or so via Nirvana. Kurt Cobain had good taste, and was also keen to share his favour­ites in inter­views and cover their songs as b-sides, provid­ing me with the Pixies, Sonic Youth, the Vasel­ines, the Pastels, Wipers, Kleenex, Flip­per, Teen­age Fanclub and many other under­ground favour­ites of the 80s and early 90s.

The Legend of Greg Sage holds that he is a mystic punk hermit, holed up in Twin Peaks and occa­sion­ally releas­ing a perfect post-punk album into the wild through­out the 80s after his child­hood of hand-cutting records using an old lathe discarded by his dad’s work­place. This isn’t quite true, but Wipers didn’t really both­er with any of the industry nonsense, or care about status or image. They just made albums they liked, often at home in a base­ment, played shows in their local area when they felt like it and let the qual­ity speak for itself.

I think the three things I like most about Wipers’ music are the sense of drive under even gloomy songs, the rough but rich guitar tone, and the sense they exist in their own world. This Guard­i­an article summar­ised it much better than I ever could as “It sounds like a long drive on an empty night, when for all the solitude, the night closes in and presses you.” Wonder­ful expanses of dread.

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