“Alreet?”
The familiar Tyneside greeting is the question posed by Edvard Graham Lewis on his new album.
Best known as a member of Wire, Lewis has carved many trails in the sonic landscape as Dome, Cupol, Duet Emmo, Hox, Elegiac, and a dozen other projects. Alreet? appears under his own name. The album comes hot on the heels of his recent collaboration with an actual Geordie, Mark Spybey (Zoviet France).
The Newcastle link came about through Los Angeles-based cEvin Key (Skinny Puppy, The Tear Garden), who hosted Lewis and Spybey on one of his regular Sunday podcasts. Lewis spent time in the town; commuting from his own base in Uppsala. He had moved from England to Sweden, many years ago, to be with the Liv of his life. All of these pins in the map were joined like synapses in a creative re(Wire)ing.

The album opens with a swelling guitar tone and the observation, “You will not pass this way again.” Geography and grooves combine in “Kinds of Whether” with emphatic richness; fused by word play and rhythmic sensitivity. Pity Trent Reznor that he never managed to bottle the lightning of He Said the way he wanted. It shines from this vessel very brightly.
“Diamond Shell” finds Lewis in classic Dome territory; layering Eastern-influences sounds over a jerky rhythm. It is hard to say whether his sense of melody or sound design take priority, but both are majestic.
The magic of “Switch” is in its delicate, gliding notes. They dissolve into the ether like vapour, leaving no trails. There aren’t many songs that call out the romantic qualities of toast, but this is surely the best of them. Lewis had a hand in the most beautiful love song of all time, “Or So It Seems,” and his touch has clearly not been diminished by the forty-year interval.
Come the “Last Scene” and the Bard’s words make a theatrical entrance. “Bang” ramps up the tension like the ghost of Mark Stewart. Lewis is in full control of the soundscapes he creates, and there are touches of darkness and light that ordinarily cannot be seen by human organs.
“I Still Remember” tells a story about the passage of a bullet. This time, the geographical reference point is the third rock from the Sun. Lewis’ bag of tricks then yields a “Key Weapon” for bridal processions.
The journey ends with a synth-led glide path, landing amongst processed phrases and Lewis’ declamation of the question, “Without humanity/who the fuck are we?” It’s a rhetorical question, but one that needs to be asked.
Is it too early to nominate an Album of the Year? Alreet? sets the bar everyone else needs to aim for, over the next ten months. The clock is counting down in the space that remains.

Two albums have just been released under Lewis’ own name by Editions Mego, but that doesn’t make them any more straight-forward. All Under starts with a film score and installation piece of the same title: the former seemingly a series of intercepted radio signals, processed into a sequence of overlapping tonal waves; the latter a strikingly delicate and haunting drone set against more visceral electronics. Lewis acts as narrator on “The Eel Wheeled,” a short story somewhere between Kafka and Conrad, set in the dystopia that is the Homeland. “No Show Godot” is a slow-burning, restrained conclusion. With the most sparing manipulation of electrical current, Lewis has taken large strides along the experimental path that he first explored in the early 1980s, and All Under is an exemplary transmission from his Uppsala base.
The companion album, All Over, serves up a dozen tracks that walk on the knife-edge between pop and experimentalism. “Straight into the Corner” could easily fit into the Wire/Wir canon, with an easy-going sensibility, but it is a singular example – other tracks might appropriate familiar conventions, but only so that they can be deconstructed and repurposed. This is unmistakably a Lewis album, with his signature wordplay and playful subversion. The stand-out track, “We’ve Lost Your Mind,” is the closest thing to a single, but in a fairer world “Passport to International Travel” would be all over the radio. Take that, white van man.