“People say, ‘Hey Mark, you’re spoiling all the paintwork’.†Guitars sweet and soft and natural become fuzz laced and charged in the blink of an eye. The beat fades from a pitter-patter of tongue clicks to a thump of impersonal drum machine kicks.
What starts as a diary entry transfigures itself into a plea for understanding from a true genius enigma. The song is singular, unimposing, beautiful, and vulnerable, unlike anything to come out of Smith’s head before. It all comes to a head on “Paintworkâ€, a stunning anthem constructed from tape samples recorded in Mark’s lonely hotel room. On “My New House†and “What You Needâ€, Smith discusses the sterility of massive consumption and its implications on the human condition. “L.A.†evokes its subject’s paper-thin character perfectly behind a wall of bouncing New Order synths and trendy guitar twists. The settings are bleak at best, neon-plastic dystopias sold as wonderlands. More than just a sharpening of their sound, “Grace†stands as a major cultural statement a sort of British “Daydream Nation.†It casts loners and losers and psychopaths in leading roles, and wrestles with the dim prospects of defining oneself as an individual in a world that shuns its outliers. “I Am Damo Suzuki†juxtaposes cat-screech chords with proudly off-tempo rumble, all punctuated by Mark E’s possessed mumble-shouts.
Cinderblock-barrage riffs on tracks like “Barmy†and “Spoilt Victorian Child†are intertwined with curdling washes of rip-tide guitar haze that feel like audio fever. There’s plenty here to scare the feeble-eared on back to their Joy Division. It’s not that they’re necessarily excited to have us on board. “Grace†is the product of a careful pairing down of the ideas explored on “Languageâ€, particularly the analysis of these things called “riffs†which, at the time, were a completely newfangled concept for the group. The first record on which she featured, 1983’s “Perverted By Languageâ€, was a bit of a brick wall, difficult to dissemble, but surprisingly structured. The band had long been making songs, some (“The Classical†from Hex Enduction Hour) more song-like than others (“Hip Priest†from the same), but Brixy decided it was time to get some more Rock & Roll focus. Brix quite literally married in to the Fall in 1983, and she brought pop-craft in with her. To these true believers, Brix Smith was the Yoko Ono of the post-punk underground. While it’s often cited as their best and most appealing album, some long-time fans consider it a dud the first step in the fall of the Fall. That being said, “This Nation’s Saving Grace†was a fairly controversial release. Thanks in no small part to his manic consistency, there is no Fall album that doesn’t sound like a Fall album. His commanding presence has something to do with his uncanny ability to sell himself as the sanest person in any room.
Where Morrissey fancies himself the reincarnation of a sassy Oscar Wilde, Smith channels a ï¬rebrand Thoreau, or an unromantic Kerouac, or maybe just himself. Smith may be England’s greatest post-modern poet. Unfailingly rude, incalculably hip, and undeniably intellectual, Mark E. The Fall, on the other hand, were pissed off and funny as hell. Most post-punk bands were a somber bunch. €œSch-tick†reads the cover of the Fall’s 1985 release, “This Nation’s Saving Graceâ€, and it shouldn't take long to realize why. Review Summary: A stellar introduction to the wonderful and frightening world of the Fall