THE FALL

Your Fu­ture Our Clut­ter (Domino Records)

Pasatiempo - - Pasa Tempos - — Rob DeWalt

One of Manch­ester, Eng­land’s most en­dur­ing and pop­u­lar post­punk bands re­turns with its 28th al­bum since 1979’s Live at the Witch Tri­als. Front­man Mark E. Smith and com­pany have hopped over to Domino, where they now rub el­bows with more con­tem­po­rary main­stream alt-rock dar­lings An­i­mal Col­lec­tive and Dirty Pro­jec­tors. (The Fall’s lineup changes are le­gendary, but Smith’s wife, Eleni Poulou, re­mains on backup vo­cals, bass, and key­boards, where she’s been since 2002.) For­tu­nately, the la­bel com­pany it keeps hasn’t im­peded The Fall from un­leash­ing yet an­other fuzzed-out, ab­sur­dist, snarling-gui­tar beast upon the world. In true Fall fashion, there’s so much go­ing on here in­stru­men­tally that, for the unini­ti­ated, the urge to skip tracks takes over im­me­di­ately. Don’t do it. Ev­ery song be­gins as a chal­lenge but even­tu­ally broad­ens with The Fall’s sonic ge­nius — like a cover of Wanda Jack­son’s rock­a­billy ditty, “Fun­nel of Love,” which is in­fused with con­tem­po­rary synth hooks pulled straight from a Prodigy al­bum. Smith, who has bro­ken his hip twice in the past six years, weaves the al­bum’s nine songs (some be­tween six and seven min­utes long) with angsty al­lu­sions to medicine and hos­pi­tals and of­fers plenty of sur­real ponderings on drug use, iso­la­tion, and mor­tal­ity, which have al­ways been his lyrical strong points. With The Fall’s new­est, fans old and new have some­thing to cheer about: bro­ken hip, bro­ken hip, hooray! Sorry — couldn’t re­sist.

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