The Unutterable

Amazon.co.uk Despite his status as indie's scabrous saint, Mark E. Smith is still too full of violent life to put on a pedestal. Impervious to public acclaim or dismay, Britain's perennial musical outsider is like an antiquarian northern hawk preaching on matters profane like an impious pope. And from the string-suffused skiffle of opener "Cyber Insekt" which buries Smith's ravaged intonations deep into the mix (and counters it with disharmonious female backing vocals), it's clear that this is classic Fall--discordant, spiky, rancid and rocking like a bunch of reprobates. On "W.B.", Smith adopts the tone of another British heretic, spewing William Blake's fire and brimstone visions of Albion's salvation. "Octo Realm/Ketamine Sun" finds him scoffing at the modern dictionary of hip and comparing people to "towers of Adidas crap". On "Serum" he is backed by scattershot beats, swaggering electronics, an eerie guitar melody and a perpetual bass rumble like the flatulence of God. Despite the trance-like tin pot percussion behind it, the title track is more like a curse than a mantra, leading into "Pumpkin Soup And Mashed Potatoes" impressions of a Mancunian Sinatra swilling gin-soaked love songs to pique his appetite. Inimitable, unflappable and now Unutterable, The Fall clearly remain in a constant state of enlightened irritation. --Chris Campion