I wanted to do another song off The Infotainment Scan immediately due to listening to it today, amazing album that sounds unlike any other album, even from around the time.
Song: It's A Curse
Album: The Infotainment Scan
Year: 1993
So this is a bitter, clever and very representative of MES's style at its best song. The rest of the album has its fair share of bitterness, but this has some killer lines in it, quite direct.
The song has a choppy, staccato riff that peppers the scene to give MES some room to flex his scrawny self over them. There's a song on this album called Glam Racket, in which he attacks, not by name, the band Suede, the indie-rockers who are currently enjoying a reformation resurgence about now, but I'd say this continues here, again, no specifically, but the lines: 'I do not like your tone/It has an ephemeral, whinging aspect' could well be about Suede frontman Brett Anderson, he did have a nasal, annoying voice, I'm a bit of a fan, I was about 8 or 9 when they came out so it formed some of the pop/guitar music I heard at the time. Obviously MES hates anything that brings back the past in an obvious way, further confirmed later when he randomly spits a curse about nostalgia bores: 'Balti, Vimto and Spangles, were always crap, regardless of the look-back bores' I agree with this to an extent, there's nothing worse than dealing with someone who talks constantly about things which happened in the past, there's nothing wrong with reminiscing but putting a rose-tinted view on things which have disappeared for a reason is just dull. Having said that, Suede and Vimto are back with a vengeance, so perhaps MES has put a curse on himself here. Spangles made a brief reappearance in the mid-90s but died an equally quick death, I remember seeing some for sale in my local Woolies, none of my friends ever bought them, and neither did I.
Elsewhere, there is talk of sandwiches being stashed in side-pockets, another call to arms on tedium from the master chronicler of weirdness it seems. The line about 'frog-like chins, ready to burst' and 'bargain vampires' makes me laugh every time, I can imagine someone walking down the street and seeing these weird people just plainly existing.
The title of today's blog comes from the opening lines, which never fail to raise a smile, really good, full of class-hate and loathing as well as being stellar MES in action.
Going to have to close this one early, I've places to be, I have decided that if I miss a day (like I did yesterday) I will always try and catch up as soon as I can, that is my promise to you dear readers.
Showing posts with label no bulbs the fall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no bulbs the fall. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Day 38: The containers, and the drivers.
Okay, one of my favourites today, and one I know holds special meaning for a lot of Fall fans, particularly author of excellent Fall-related book The Fallen, Dave Simpson. If you haven't read this particular tome, track it down now, I consumed it recently and its an amazing insight into how the group has operated over the 30 years it has existed. Basically, Dave makes it his life's work to track down every musician who was in the Fall and quiz them on their experiences, some are hilarious, some a bit tragic but all give an interesting account, he doesn't find a few as some seemed to have slipped into the ether, but read it to find out more.
Anyway, one of his favourite tracks is this, there's a horrible section in his book where he charts the breakup of his relationship thanks to his spending time away working on this book and ending up in the far-flung reaches of the country to do so. His partner actually leaves him and to his horror, is seeing a container driver, the ultimate insult.
Song: The Container Drivers
Album: Grotesque (After The Gramme)
Year: 1980
So here's a song that encapsulates several Fall tropes within its brief running time (really short for this era I reckon ) the humdrum job of container delivery drivers with some genuinely trite and funny remarks (They sweat on their way down/report with customs bastards/hang around like clowns) as well as being one of the most obvious blues-influenced songs they've ever written without it being a cover, it reminds me of all sorts of things, weirdly these millionaires come to mind, its the pace of the whole thing and the jangly guitars that do it, this is also of course, courtesy of the amazing Paul Hanley's drumming, this being his first album with the group, some rate this as the best Fall lineup ever and I'm almost inclined to agree, they sound spot on here, that first drumroll just makes this song and the railroad-esque chug-a-chug that makes up the clattering pace means its not only memorable, but damn catchy as well. There's even some truck/train noises towards the end and Mark's vocal exhalations only add to this.
The lyrics are incredible, almost an anti-traveling song in that it relates the monotony of their existence in concise detail: "Bad indigestion/The bowel retention/S'before their wages/Sometimes in short sleeves/Look at a car park for two days/Look at a grey port for two days/Train line, stone and grey/This is not their town" you can almost see them, rotund chaps in hermetically-sealed cabs belching and burping their way down the M1 to Dover to take a container full of whatever to some industrial estate (that's another day!) in the arse-end of rural France perhaps. I like the part about looking at a car park and looking at a grey port, having traveled in my band, I can empathise with these descriptions, there's something very dull about ferry transit and docks/service stations that brings something of horror to the soul.
I like the line about Communists just being part-time workers that thing that people who are proud of their work (no matter how banal) do when talking about people different from them, that narrow-minded sense of accomplishment.
I'm guessing this is influenced by Mark's time as a clerk at the docks in Salford, where he must have seen these types day after day, so I see this as a rare glimpse of autobiography within a Fall song, as he has said on many occasions, he writes objectively and outside himself.
Anyway, one of his favourite tracks is this, there's a horrible section in his book where he charts the breakup of his relationship thanks to his spending time away working on this book and ending up in the far-flung reaches of the country to do so. His partner actually leaves him and to his horror, is seeing a container driver, the ultimate insult.
Song: The Container Drivers
Album: Grotesque (After The Gramme)
Year: 1980
So here's a song that encapsulates several Fall tropes within its brief running time (really short for this era I reckon ) the humdrum job of container delivery drivers with some genuinely trite and funny remarks (They sweat on their way down/report with customs bastards/hang around like clowns) as well as being one of the most obvious blues-influenced songs they've ever written without it being a cover, it reminds me of all sorts of things, weirdly these millionaires come to mind, its the pace of the whole thing and the jangly guitars that do it, this is also of course, courtesy of the amazing Paul Hanley's drumming, this being his first album with the group, some rate this as the best Fall lineup ever and I'm almost inclined to agree, they sound spot on here, that first drumroll just makes this song and the railroad-esque chug-a-chug that makes up the clattering pace means its not only memorable, but damn catchy as well. There's even some truck/train noises towards the end and Mark's vocal exhalations only add to this.
The lyrics are incredible, almost an anti-traveling song in that it relates the monotony of their existence in concise detail: "Bad indigestion/The bowel retention/S'before their wages/Sometimes in short sleeves/Look at a car park for two days/Look at a grey port for two days/Train line, stone and grey/This is not their town" you can almost see them, rotund chaps in hermetically-sealed cabs belching and burping their way down the M1 to Dover to take a container full of whatever to some industrial estate (that's another day!) in the arse-end of rural France perhaps. I like the part about looking at a car park and looking at a grey port, having traveled in my band, I can empathise with these descriptions, there's something very dull about ferry transit and docks/service stations that brings something of horror to the soul.
I like the line about Communists just being part-time workers that thing that people who are proud of their work (no matter how banal) do when talking about people different from them, that narrow-minded sense of accomplishment.
I'm guessing this is influenced by Mark's time as a clerk at the docks in Salford, where he must have seen these types day after day, so I see this as a rare glimpse of autobiography within a Fall song, as he has said on many occasions, he writes objectively and outside himself.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Day 35: Where's that bloody belt?
The Fall, the only band I know who have opened a song with a line about not being able to find a belt first thing in the morning, pure brilliance, this is a request for reader 'Sly & The Family Bone', you are welcome.
Song: No Bulbs
Album: The Wonderful And Frightening World Of The Fall
Year: 1984
This one is demented, punchy and quite jerky, again, the idea of a slow descent into madness echoes the grotesque artwork for this album. Having said that, the lyrics are hilarious, focusing on the minutiae of modern living and what seems to me like poverty, no belt, no bulbs for the flat and talk of living in a 'trash mound'.
The music is brash, loud and features some paint-peeling feedback squalls/keyboard towards the end, but is most notable for the harmonics (yes harmonics in The Fall!) of Mark and Brix singing together on what we could term the chorus of: "In need of black strap/No belts in this flat" the harmonics are skewed of course, but its a nice touch when it happens, the production as I've said before about this album, is pretty maxed out and abrasive (not quite as fuzzy or crackling with scuzz as Slates) and gives you an idea of how loud they must have recorded it, but when you are recording The Fall, why not go all out?
Flashes of lyrical genius pepper this one like so many bullets, the half-finished line of "No belts in this flat/The former tenant was anti-corporal-punish!" this sense of simple poetry gone-wrong leaves behind a great line I'd argue, certainly memorable. Elsewhere there is the despairing: "They say damp records the past/If that's so I've got the biggest library yet" this is just cracking, kicking any notion of romanticising poverty or squalor a la George Orwell and his type and just shooting from the hip, its not glorious, its pretty disgusting right? I'd guess that Mark is against any type of class tourism you see these days (the characterisation of the working class as chavs and media lampooning them with no sensitivity) and this song could be seen as evidence.
I'm going to stick my neck out and label this song as a tad existential, its in the realms of challenging the futility of life, at one point, not able to find a bulb, our protagonist (I presume this isn't autobiographical) destroys what he describes as 'years of hippie craft/Cut up the match ship/And a string wooden chandelier or something' this is what sounds like mindless destruction and a lot like self-loathing. The whole song reeks of existence, the grim reality of damp on the walls, living in a place so untidy a belt cannot be found in the 'trash pile' and a lack of bulbs is just the icing on this cake of crust.
I once went to look round a house on my own (to see if it was any good for me and my mates, they were all busy) and the house was covered in hamster shit and sawdust and none of the lights worked, no bulbs you see, the letting agent just turned to me and said "I'd leave if I were you, this is horrible" one of the most honest things I've ever heard from someone in that profession, either way, this song reminds me of that house in Sheffield, I wonder if they ever found the explosive hamster?
Song: No Bulbs
Album: The Wonderful And Frightening World Of The Fall
Year: 1984
This one is demented, punchy and quite jerky, again, the idea of a slow descent into madness echoes the grotesque artwork for this album. Having said that, the lyrics are hilarious, focusing on the minutiae of modern living and what seems to me like poverty, no belt, no bulbs for the flat and talk of living in a 'trash mound'.
The music is brash, loud and features some paint-peeling feedback squalls/keyboard towards the end, but is most notable for the harmonics (yes harmonics in The Fall!) of Mark and Brix singing together on what we could term the chorus of: "In need of black strap/No belts in this flat" the harmonics are skewed of course, but its a nice touch when it happens, the production as I've said before about this album, is pretty maxed out and abrasive (not quite as fuzzy or crackling with scuzz as Slates) and gives you an idea of how loud they must have recorded it, but when you are recording The Fall, why not go all out?
Flashes of lyrical genius pepper this one like so many bullets, the half-finished line of "No belts in this flat/The former tenant was anti-corporal-punish!" this sense of simple poetry gone-wrong leaves behind a great line I'd argue, certainly memorable. Elsewhere there is the despairing: "They say damp records the past/If that's so I've got the biggest library yet" this is just cracking, kicking any notion of romanticising poverty or squalor a la George Orwell and his type and just shooting from the hip, its not glorious, its pretty disgusting right? I'd guess that Mark is against any type of class tourism you see these days (the characterisation of the working class as chavs and media lampooning them with no sensitivity) and this song could be seen as evidence.
I'm going to stick my neck out and label this song as a tad existential, its in the realms of challenging the futility of life, at one point, not able to find a bulb, our protagonist (I presume this isn't autobiographical) destroys what he describes as 'years of hippie craft/Cut up the match ship/And a string wooden chandelier or something' this is what sounds like mindless destruction and a lot like self-loathing. The whole song reeks of existence, the grim reality of damp on the walls, living in a place so untidy a belt cannot be found in the 'trash pile' and a lack of bulbs is just the icing on this cake of crust.
I once went to look round a house on my own (to see if it was any good for me and my mates, they were all busy) and the house was covered in hamster shit and sawdust and none of the lights worked, no bulbs you see, the letting agent just turned to me and said "I'd leave if I were you, this is horrible" one of the most honest things I've ever heard from someone in that profession, either way, this song reminds me of that house in Sheffield, I wonder if they ever found the explosive hamster?
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