Warm Wires
San Francisco's Warm Wires write quirky songs more inventive than Edison patents, more infectious than strep, and more addictive than crack. On the Wires' debut, Severe Comfort, former Harm Farmer and Nest orchestrator B. Mossman's first-person lyrics draw attention to his various neuroses ("The day my mother's heart stops is the day that I will dive/ The day my father's heart stops is the day that I will thrive") and idiosyncrasies ("I can lick your diseased skin with no risk of infection"). Delivered with emphasis on the whine, the words are a bold look-at-me shout. Live, despite a strong band (including a tabla player and members of the defunct Little My), Mossman isn't the charismatic freak his songs suggest. But nothing cures a slow show faster than a good gimmick. And Warm Wires have a hell of a gimmick.
Here's the setup: Take two of S.F.'s premier commercial illustrators (David Fremont and Eric White), fork over a handful of Vis-a-Vis pens, and point the two to an overhead projector. At the beginning of each song, White and Fremont drop a new transparency and doodle away. It's a low-budget light show for losers. And it's brilliant.
-- Jeff Stark
Warm Wires play with Scenic Vermont and the Low & Sweet Orchestra Sunday, Feb. 2, at 5:30 p.m. at the Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St. Tickets are $3; call 621-4455.
