The Fall: Grotesque (After the Gramme) (1980)

#4

The North Rises Again

With a clang-clang here and a thump-thump there, out spills The Fall – a Northern grin on the faces of all those members not named Mark E. Smith.

I believe these to be the primary stages of another musical obsession. It started with Lou Reed. Then moved to Joe Strummer. Then hopped to Nick Cave. It is always the misanthropes with me, damn it! If I endeavour to re-read this review in one year’s time, I will look back upon how uneducated in the ways of the band I was, then spin another of my forty LPs with a cockeyed grin on my face. I will also promise myself to get a sodding life.

What attracts me to this unit is that they are apotheosis of all experimental post-punk acts, rampant experimentalists and barbed wordsmiths of mouth-watering proportions. For someone who likes his music ramshackle, his lyricism literate/cryptic and his oeuvres bountiful with brilliant albums, The Fall seem like my dream band. On top of this, their leader has a pleasantly apocalyptic vision rooted in despair, intolerance and personal hypocrisy. Which is nice too.

Grotesque (After The Gramme) was pushed out in 1980 and has been spinning like a overzealous ballerina in the old CD turntable for nigh on a month. It is an addictive blast of bewitching cult music, abound with thunderous rhythms and lyrics spikier than Davy Jones’ cutlass. The appeal of this band is their wicked combination of coiling hooks, mesmerising experimental musicianship and the distinctively sardonic bile of head honcho Mark E. Smith. The band kept itself fresh through its “revolving door” policy of replacing members to keep the sound alive.

Pay Your Rates, lead-off track, is a fine example of the band firing on all cylinders; a broken-down, leftfield attack from the belly of the proletarian beast at the very beginning of Thatcher’s Hell. With a rampant lead guitar from Craig Scanlon and hounding rhythm section from Marc Riley, this blast of noise crumbles after the first minute, silting into a nightmarish cradle like a Northern tower block nestling in rubble. It surfaces into a sort of drooling nirvana of garbled mantras such as “debtors retreat escape” before building into the defiant crash-thrash of common sense in the final minute. Why is this wonderful? Ask the heavens.

English Scheme is a two-minute snapshot of race war in Britain, delivering a swift and infectious blow over the sickening hurl of disjointed keyboards and the bullet-sharp drumming of Paul Hanley. The rapid-fire build-up of vitriol creates a fine picture of Britain in the grip of mounting turmoil, and this tune sounds close to furious eruption on several times, bowing out with the unsettling truth: “If we was smart we’d emigrate.”

New Face In Hell is a classic, lead by a jangling guitar which throttles through a distasteful yarn about the government planting evidence to frame an innocent man and boasts an outrageous lead hook buzzed out on the kazoo. If ever one tune captured the rapturous sound of disrespectful young people sticking their tongues out at the powers-that-be, it would be this addictive and lengthier kick in the pants.

C ‘n’ C – S Mithering is the most experimental number to be savoured. One repeated hook on the acoustic guitar, the swirling melody is kept interesting through creative drumming and elegant bass work while it segues through its delayed music biz observations into a stream-of-consciousness rant which touches upon everything from “the upstairs Jewish girl” to “a circle of low IQs.”

The Container Drivers is a breakneck rattle through the motorways of Britain; an often incomprehensible look at life through the eyes of the humble truck driver. All romanticism of the road is stripped away in favour of a clamouring rockabilly attack on the transience of technology. Once more, this an exhilarating and informative rush.

Impression of J Temperance builds over a swirling bass line and underground synthesisers into a disconcerting science fiction tale of some beast being born from some gooey mould, culminating over a tin-pan throb with the repeated chant of “this hideous replica.”

Oh, it is addictive. Ever lesser moments such as the crass filler In The Park or the bizarre homemade garbage of primitive drumming via four-track WMC – Blob 59 have a probative curiosity afoot. Likewise, the bouncy Gramme Friday makes for a howling treat with its Tantric hook and garbled vocal loopings.

The NWRA concludes the original album, a nine-minute trek into some inner-city dystopia which endeavours to imagine the north/south divide gone haywire. With its swirling guitar hook and stomping synthesiser, it shifts from a music-hall-in-hell sound into a disturbing wash of sound over which Mark E. Smith is given free reign to narrate a story of violence and uprising. Here, Edinburgh is used as the base of operations for the north of Britain to seize the south, and Smith predicts the subsequent riots and upset in Britain. The guitar starts to splinter like falling bombs or shards of glass and towards the end, it wages a war on your eardrums. A hypnotic piece de resistance.

Castle Records in 2004 re-issued five or six albums in deluxe format, and this edition collects crucial singles from the era, including the paean to writer’s block How I Wrote ‘Elastic Man’ and the obnoxious stomp of City Hobgoblins.

There are no real missteps on this album, but the bizarre looseness of Totally Wired makes for a weak single. B-side Putta Block fuses a vampiric demo of The NWRA before it splices the actual tune (rather crudely) into the mix. There is also a Self-Interview with Mark E. Smith recorded at the time, and without music to hide behind he makes less sense than he does in the songs. A strange curio for die-hards only. Which is soon to be me, I’d imagine.

Grotesque (After The Gramme) is another terrific effort from The Fall in a canon chock full of them. A focussed effort in wonderful thrash-bash and literate melody twisting, it deserves a place in the collections of all those in love with experimental rock music par excellence.

Rating: 9/10