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Guitars burn and charge through as bass growls below and synths saw in on heavy hitting downbeats.

“Blindness” finds him almost scat singing along to the dexterous beat before the throbbing bass outruns him on an upper registry slide.Īll throughout the band behind him sounds vigorous and vital.

That refreshing irreverence carries on into “What About Us” with Smith getting absolutely elastic with his garbled gibberish intro on into his punchy and impassioned outro. Locked down tight on drums and bass, “Pacifying Joint” drives on with synth stabs and Smith at play over the relentless rhythm. That smarmy introduction isn’t so much a surprise given the notorious curmudgeon at its center, but what follows is an unexpected storm of cocksure confidence and swagger. Their message is made clear: they are The Fall and thereby aloof and above all reproach. Over the slow stuttering gallop, Smith reiterates his position on critics claiming “when you accuse me, you’re talkin’ ’bout yourself” while taunting “you think you’re giant, don’t you know son / you’re talking to yourself / and no one else.” Stridently offhanded, the track impresses only in that the band appears so apathetic in their delivery. The song is a loping cowpunk plod evoking the same amateur spirit of the band’s early years. Opening with “Ride Away”, Smith and The Fall make it quite clear they have nothing to prove. Compiling impotent takes on unfinished tracks, the stopgap teaser failed even against the standard of ever-expanding unofficial releases plaguing the group’s discography. Opinions of the band were brought down further with intolerably lackluster Interim. The untimely passing of John Peel focused even more attention on the group he dared call his favorite, but any unintended legacy on the part of their most notable fan was quickly spoiled by the seemingly insensitive buffoonery of The Fall’s indomitable figurehead, Mark E. A storming but unfortunately final Peel Session followed and again raised expectations. The Real New Fall LP (Formerly Country on the Click) was a smashing recovery over the dingy din of Are You Are Missing Winner but turned up stateside almost a year later in an inferior albeit appended iteration.

Such an accomplishment was preceded by the accustomed cycle of tragedy and victory. Rather than just another ministration to the faithful like Shift-Work or Levitate, Fall Heads Roll resounds with the same kind of incongruous charm that ingratiated newcomers with The Wonderful and Frightening World of The Fall or The Unutterable. It’s not just the latest record from The Fall, it’s the latest greatest record from The Fall. This most recent portent of prosperity is that Fall Heads Roll is impossibly, wickedly, and even unnecessarily superlative. Their looming undoing then demands an antecedent of ascendancy. The greater the triumph, the more certain and dire the defeat. This is the way of The Fall: every success begets a setback setting the stage for resurgence that implodes into acclaim all over again. They will carry on as always, at the very verge of collapse and victoriously claiming failure over fortuity. Still somehow The Fall will rise up and again surpass unparalleled rock and roll milestones. With the group coming up fast on 29 years of uncompromising cantankery and bristling brilliance, the severity of this imminent calamity might make their unfathomable pearl jubilee that much more unimaginable. Worse than the usual shuffling shake-up of members or spontaneous tour truncation, an absolute catastrophe awaits punk’s last lone standing band of any repute or relevance.