The Fall – Shift-Work
By
Jesse E. Mullen
You’ve made post-punk records for the past 12 years.
You’ve taken the repetition of krautrock and made it a signature feature of
your music. British DJs love you while the mainstream press ignore you. How do
you survive a changing musical landscape?
So was the situation that Mark E. Smith found himself
in during the early 1990s. His seminal post-punk act The Fall had skirted on
the outer edges of fame, only to be shutout from the big payoff. When The Fall
left pseudo-independent label Beggars Banquet for the greener pastures of major
labels Fontana and Phonogram, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for
growth.
And by large, it was. Their major label debut, 1990’s Extricate
charted higher than any album they had previously released. Single “Telephone
Thing” was a minor hit in the UK. From an outside perspective, things finally
seemed to be going well for the group. But inside, things were far from
perfect.
Smith was disillusioned with the direction that
independent music was heading in at the time, particularly the independent
music being made in his home city of Manchester. The majority of the music
scene was enamored with a style at first dubbed the “second summer of love” in
1988 and later Acid House and Madchester. The majority excluding Smith, that
is.
Acid House was a crude form of electronic techno
music. It was characterized by the “squelching” bass sound of a Roland 808 drum
machine. Much like the punks a decade before, Acid House favored style and
rawness over expensive production. It seemed like the kind of thing Smith would
enjoy.
However, by the early 90s the scene was becoming
tired. Rock groups were fusing the sounds of Acid House with the indie guitar
sounds of Creation’s Doing It For The Kids compilation to mixed results.
There were genuinely excellent releases from bands like The Charlatans and The
Wonder Stuff, but there were also middling releases by bands like The Soup
Dragons.
Worse still, the scene was being overrun by gangsters.
The once bustling Hacienda – run by New Order’s Peter Hook – was becoming a hub
for violence and hard drugs. A stylistic change was around the corner with
shoegazing and Britpop, but even this would take a few more years to catch on.
Perhaps this is what inspired Smith to get away for a
few years. For the first and only time in his life, he would live somewhere
else than Prestwich, Greater Manchester. He Bought a house in Edinburgh,
Scotland and continued to build his new label, Cog Sinister.
The original plan for Cog Sinister was to be a label
for artists who had fallen victim to the same sketchy business practices that
Smith had. However, when this turned into a losing proposition financially, Cog
Sinister simply became a vanity label for The Fall’s early 90s releases. But
one other noteworthy thing came out of the experience.
Smith married his personal assistant at the label
Saffron Prior in 1991. They became romantically involved in 1988, around the
time that Cog Sinister got going. However, Smith was still married to Fall
guitarist Brix Smith at the time, which caused a contentious situation within
the group.
Brix was out by the middle of 1989, and the group
transitioned away from their new wave inspired sound of the 80s. In its place
was at first a rockabilly influence sound. But gradually, the band would
incorporate elements of the Madchester sound Smith so openly disliked.
Whether it was pastiche or parody, the change was
beneficial commercially. The loops and samples of “Telephone Thing” helped to
bring the band more commercial success than they had had in their native
Britain. But when The Fall made an entire album like this with 1991’s Shift-Work,
how did it stack up? And was Smith secretly growing to like the music?
Things get off to an interesting start with the
rhythmic, militant-styled chant of “So What About It?” Musically, it is a
devilish inversion of the Madchester sound, using dance beats and sequenced
keyboard loops. Smith seems to be mocking his boredom with the music scene with
the title, but it is a successful opener nonetheless.
“Idiot Joy Showland” delves further into Smith’s disdain
for the scene in his hometown. The music is again a convincing approximation of
Madchester, so much so that it almost sounds like Smith is coming around on the
style of music. The lyrics and title, however, paint a different picture.
Smith sings of “idiot groups with no shape or form”
that are “out of their heads on a quid of blow.” As previously mentioned drugs
and organized crime had pretty much taken over the scene and it was beginning
to affect the quality of the music.
Ironically, Smith himself was not opposed to drug use
or writing about it in earlier songs. Early single “Totally Wired” was a love
letter to uppers. And in Hacienda owner Peter Hook’s memoir Unknown
Pleasures: Inside Joy Division, Hook recalls a time when Smith would
sprinkle speed into his own beer.
So, we can surmise that it wasn’t so much the drugs on
the scene that turned Smith off. Rather, it was the overall sound and vibe of
the music. Smith wanted his musicians to be tight and in control of the sound
they produced, regardless of their technical limitations.
By 1991, the Madchester scene often favored sloppier
interplay between the drummers and bassists of the various groups. So, it is
understandable that Smith would be put off by the music. Smith also sings about
the “working class [being] shafted” with maybe just a hint of jealousy.
In Smith’s eyes, these “lesser” bands are coming out
of nowhere, making easy money and populating the airwaves while he slugs it out
in the lower reaches of the semi-mainstream. Musically the song is just as
interesting. Longtime guitarist Craig Scanlon plays an extremely catchy riff,
while newcomer keyboardist Dave Bush adds spooky noises on top.
The rhythm section is just as strong. Drummer Simon
Wolstencroft – often called “the human drum machine” by Fall fans – adds funky
techno beats with a choppy rhythm. Steve Hanley’s bass grumbles along
melodically, playing off of Scanlon’s leads. It’s a strong song with a fun groove.
Nowhere else is Smith as warm towards his local scene
than on “The Mixer.” A first-person ode to a fictional DJ from Jamaica, the two
share a magical moment at a sweaty club. It’s the kind of song where one could
forget Smith’s visceral takes on Madchester only a few tracks earlier.
It is also a song where the little sonic details add
to the overall experience. A handclap sample is followed by Smith’s assertion
of “clap! clap!” There are also creepy spoken word/chanting found sounds by an
unnamed vocalist. When paired with the visuals of a mouth speaking in the music
video, it is almost disturbingly reminiscent of The Twilight Zone.
Smith didn’t always let his sensitive side show. But
whenever he did, the results were always spectacular. “Bill Is Dead” on the previous
years’ Extricate showed Smith at his most lyrically naked and introspective. “Edinburgh
Man” continues this tradition with an ode to the city Smith had recently
departed to return to Manchester.
The lyrics describe Smith in the spring and summer
time, longing for Edinburgh, Scotland. He had made the city his home for a few years
but returned to his native Prestwich. It’s a bit of a sad, longing song. But it
also feels strangely hopeful.
Musically, it’s a jangly number with a sweet hummable
lead by Craig Scanlon which echoes Smith’s vocal melody. In the chorus, an unnamed
female backing vocal and blippy computer effects by Dave Bush join the lush two
chord guitar melody.
Reviewers of the time hailed it as a peak of Smith’s
songwriting, and it’s hard to argue with that sentiment. It is pure perfection
even down to the mixing. The various instruments form a dreamy wash evocative
of the summer season Smith sings of.
Rarely if even again would he let his emotions show to
this extent – with one exception, as we will get to later. He remained insular
until his death in January 2018. But “Edinburgh Man” showed that he could let
people into his world on his terms. And maybe that’s enough.
For “The Book of Lies,” Smith decided to switch things
up a bit. Rather than taking lead vocals fully, he invited fiddle player Kenny
Brady to share vocals with him. Overall, it was a good decision. The music to
the track is psychedelic and ecstasy infused. One has to wonder if Smith
partook, just to see what all the fuss was all about.
Brady’s vocal matches the chaos. He wavers in and out
of tune, not unlike the “glide guitar” effect favored by Kevin Shields of My
Bloody Valentine. However, rarely – if ever – had the same principle been
applied to vocals. When Smith joins with his own spoken word bit, the effect is
cool and seamless.
Perhaps the greatest song is “Rose.” Built around a
tremolo picked bassline by Steve Hanley, record scratches, and flute-y
keyboards, the song bears a strange resemblance to “A Letter To Elise” by The
Cure. Lyrically, Smith is singing a woman in Hampstead, wishing her well in her
relationship.
There were rumors that the lyrics were directed at
Smith’s ex-wife and former bandmate Brix, which would explain a lot. The track
is poignant in a way that Smith rarely was in the past but was becoming more
frequent since 1990’s Extricate – his first album without her since 1982.
However, the track is also poignant for another
reason. It is the last song to feature guitarist Martin Bramah and keyboardist
Marcia Schofield as members of The Fall. Bramah was a member on their 1979
debut Live at the Witch Trials, but soon quit while touring the album.
Bramah rejoined in 1989, and immediately proved his
musical significance. He provided intricate single notes to contrast Craig
Scanlon’s manic rockabilly style. Schofield provided a melodic foil for Smith’s
signature bark. Her keyboards gave songs such as “Bill Is Dead” a sweetness
they would otherwise lack. Losing Bramah and Schofield was the end of an era
for The Fall.
Mark E. Smith was not a musician or writer in the
traditional sense. Rather, he was almost a collage artist using words like
pieces of magazine images. His methodology involved taking pieces from books,
adverts, and pop culture turning them into abstract poems. He was an observer,
and he did not always like what he saw in the world.
In the end, The Fall became so good at parodying the
Madchester sound that they made a legitimately good album in the style. One has
to wonder – did Mark E. Smith actually hate the trends of the time? Or did Shift-Work
change his judgement towards the sounds? Only Smith knew for sure.
Fontana/1991
