Wipers - The new wave of garage-rock

Wipers are first and foremost a band waiting to be rediscovered. They have the potential to appeal to just about everyone: from the casual listener to the connoisseur, from fans of singer-songwriters and pop to rockers, from punks to new-wavers, from goths to noise devotees, right down to the introverted indie teenager. Wipers did all of this in the early '80s, but far too few seem to have noticed. Sonic Youth, Pixies, Dinosaur Jr, Nirvana, Lemonheads, My Bloody Valentine certainly aren't among them.

Had they only hit on a catchy, sellable tune (as happened to their younger siblings the Knack with "My Sharona") or had they been more widely distributed, Wipers would have made a fortune.

Wipers are the embodiment of Greg Sage's decadent, frustrated and delicate personality; he set out under this name in 1978. Wipers are the Diaframma of Portland, Oregon; in fact, I'd venture that Diaframma (Federico Fiumani, a sort of alter ego of Greg Sage) listened to and learned a great deal from Wipers.

Outside the two cathedrals of American rock (Los Angeles and New York), but also outside the stimulating scenes of Boston, Chicago and San Francisco, Wipers are the quintessence of the anguish and gloom that gripped young people the world over in the early '80s (and this is what new wave was: punk for the people), when nihilism and feeling bad were in fashion. What set Sage apart, though, was that he made the fashion rather than following it: he was simply himself. Neither punk (he was American), nor hardcore (too much of a songwriter), nor singer-songwriter (too hardcore), nor noise (too focused on song form), nor pop (too noise), nor rockabilly (too dark), nor dark (too rockabilly). Sage was the extraordinary case of a return to the origins of rock (to the garage rock of Them) at a time when everyone else was indulging in extravagance, and he managed to anticipate — in that well-worn way where the old man turns out to be the revolutionary — the more refined and quietly sentimental gestures of rock to come. Out of step with the present (for him it was natural to relive it through the past: rock'n'roll) and out of step with the past (for him it was natural to relive it through the present: punk-noise), he was nothing less than a classic, and deserves to be regarded as one. His is in fact the most existential strand, centred on introspection and the voice of adolescence, that would later be called indie-rock (a thin, howling voice, desolation made both lighter and more tragic by youth, melodies that hit you straight in the heart and distortion that claws at the soul, solipsism and no social rebellion whatsoever). With hindsight, Wipers can be said to have been heavily influenced by the Cramps: the architects of that brilliant heresy known as voodoobilly (i.e. dark rock'n'roll), from whom, however — out of respect for Sage as a person — they took neither the formalised intent (rock'n'roll revivalism) nor any immediate or direct influence. If anything, Wipers and the Cramps represent two parallel paths toward dusting off old rock'n'roll, the former unconscious or unsystematic, the latter deliberate and programmatic.

On most of the tracks, Sage updates the existentialist garage-rock of Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" (the one from the underrated masterpiece "Neighborhood Threat") into a howled dark-noise. Sage's favourite themes are those of alienation, which became classic territory from Joy Division onward. Yet Sage infuses them with an intimacy that is at times dreamlike and always sensitive and discreet (he is especially sensitive to the nothingness or void surrounding him), which makes him the father, not merely putative, of indie-rock. Sage is emotionally detached (and it's precisely this detachment that let him outlive Curtis). Sage is a songwriter of love — love for the alienation that, if you must live with it, you must learn to live alongside.

Special mention should go to the importance Sage had in two technical respects: 1) his guitar would become the guitar of every even loosely indie band to come (noise that never overdoes it, and therefore all the more searing for the contrast between melody/riff and the various forms of distortion and destruction); 2) his voice, or at least his vocal tone and delivery (a particular source of inspiration for the less hysterical side of Cobain), would — alongside the voice of Curt Kirkwood of Meat Puppets — likewise be followed by future indie generations, who would find in it all the adolescence, discretion, emotion and desolation suspended between hardcore (violence), singer-songwriter tradition (warmth/delicacy) and new wave or dark (coldness/impassivity). Considering that a good deal of grunge falls under the indie umbrella, it's clear how fundamental Wipers were for Mudhoney and Nirvana.

Sage writes and plays everything he sings, drawing on a rotating cast of supporting musicians for the rhythm section.

From the Wipers blueprint, the two fundamental paths of indie-rock would branch off: experimental abstraction (My Bloody Valentine) and melodic existentialism (Lemonheads). Between these two extremes lie grunge, the Pixies and much else besides.

Is This Real?, Lp (1980). Undici brani, 30 minuti. Dave Koupal (basso), Sam Henry (batteria), Greg Sage (chitarra, voce).

The two masterpieces are: "Return of the Rat" (2:43), an assault of garage-rock tinged with black (and one of the favourite covers of early Nirvana, who thus testified to its decisive importance for the grunge movement) and "Is This Real?" (2:41), a power-pop track of the highest existential and cathartic tension. The other tracks: a distorted rock'n'roll ("Mystery" - 1:51), an urban anthem in the style of Television ("Up Front" - 3:09), an English-style punk number ("Let's Go Away" - 1:52), a Byrds-esque lullaby devoted to pessimism ("Tragedy" - 2:04), a pseudo-ballad that would explain the Velvet Underground to the grunge generation ("D-7" - 4:08), a full-on proto-grunge track ("Potential Suicide" - 3:37), an acid garage-rock number in the vein of Rocket From The Tombs ("Don't Know What I Am" - 2:59), a prelude to the neo-Lou Reed-ian Dream Syndicate ("Window Shop for Love" - 3:03), a continuation of the mood of "Is This Real?" ("Wait a Minute" - 3:06).

Alien Boy, EP (1980). Four tracks, 8 minutes. Dave Koupal (bass), Sam Henry (drums), Greg Sage (guitar, vocals). This is a showcase of the harshness, nervous tension and implicit experimentation found on the debut album ("Alien Boy" - 3:28), with novelty tones ("Image of Man" - 2:31), layers of distortion grinding away at vocal-group tunes ("Telepathic Love" - 1:32), and new wave scrapes in the style of Bauhaus ("Voices in the Rain" - 1:23).

Youth of America, Lp (1981). Sei brani, 30 minuti. Brad Davidson (basso), Brad Naish (batteria), Greg Sage (chitarra, voce).

The three masterpieces are: "No Fair" (4:20), a melodramatic, syncopated crescendo that lays the groundwork for the future sound of Eels; "Youth of America" (10:03), a crescendo this time in the vein of New York new wave à la Television, classy and even more dramatic and psychedelic than that band; "When It's Over" (6:30), a (near-)instrumental, moving saga of epic English new wave (Bauhaus, Tuxedomoon), where Sage reaches the peak of his guitar playing in the interweaving of heart-wrenching riffs and tormented distortion. The remaining tracks pave the way at times for the dark reverie of Dream Syndicate ("Taking Too Long"), at times for the shoegaze dissolves of My Bloody Valentine, in both its more measured ("Can This Be") and more melancholic ("Pushing the Extreme") forms.

Over The Edge, Lp(1983). Undici brani, 36 minuti. Brad Davidson (basso), Brad Naish (batteria), Greg Sage (chitarra, voce).

The three masterpieces are: a hymn-like noise-songwriting piece of great sensitivity that is Sage's finest achievement ("So Young"); a tragic power-pop track ("What Is"); an elegy forever poised between form and distortion, yet always moving ("No One Wants an Alien"). All the other tracks overflow with pathos, innocence and sincerity, and would enrich any rock album: the revisiting of "Return of the Rat", "Over the Edge"; the dark, fatalistic slowed-down rock'n'roll of "Doom Town"; the sweetly fleeting "Messenger"; the most potent and perverse Lou Reed-style track, "Romeo"; the chant of alienation "Now Is the Time"; the depressed, jangling reflection still able to pulse, "The Lonely One"; the heartbroken, unheeded call to nature "No Generation Gap"; the darkest and most roots-leaning voodoobilly of love, "This Time".

Amid general indifference, but never losing his class, shine or sincerity, Sage carried on under the Wipers name with Land Of The Lost (Restless, 1986), Follow Blind (Restless, 1987), Circle (Restless, 1988), Silver Sail (T/K, 1993), Herd (Tim Kerr, 1996), The Power In One (Zeno, 2000), and under his own name with Straight Ahead (Enigma, 1985) and Sacrifice (Restless, 1991).

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