Tagliatelle Tubbies

By Simon Williams, NME

*Fist of fun*

Like tabloid hypocrisy, stroppy bus conductors and careless estate agents, certain aspects of reality will never, ever let you down. And the music business -'alternative' or not - is no exception.

Take Prolapse, for example: a haphazard collective of half-a-dozen studey types seemingly drawn together by a penchant for shouting and Sonic Youth B-sides and armed with a name about as hospital radio-friendly as FrankieWank & The F----ers, surely few acts could compete with them on a thoroughly low-rent scale of Transit van-trundling, bedsit-bundling indie schmindie on-the-road nightmares.

Sure enough, ruddy-faced ranting vocalist Scotch Mick is fondly recalling some of the more glamorous moments of Prolapse's career. Like that time in Germany when they arrived in a huge squat in Hanover after spending light years on the sodding autobahn to find they were playing with the Gay City Rollers - oh yes - the majority of whom appeared to be getting intimate in the boys' toilets.

Anyway, it was really bloody cold and Prolapse were all shaking'n'quaking from a high-octane blend of on-tour psychosis and the DTs, and the larger-than-life singer of the Gay City Rollers - a chap called Elvis, natch - well, he reappeared from the bogs and he had blood, like, under his armpit. By the time Scotch Mick had seen the wall of a nearby bar burst into flames, the actual gig itself had become something of an irrelevance. Suffice it to say the show was rubbish.

'It was,' growls Mick with masterful understatement, 'f---ing horrible.'

Spending a weekend in Rome with Prolapse should therefore fill the more sophisticated among us with the sort of dread normally associated with cold concrete floors, stinking syringe-littered toilet venues and cockroach-infested lunacy. But that's enough about Camden.

And, in a very real sense, that's enough about the potential social perils of being in Prolapse, for this weekend is blissfully free from any touring traumas or tribulations - primarily because they aren't even playing any gigs! They're just here to chew the fat with NME over their new album 'The Italian Flag' - the rather piss-poor excuse for our current location -and to have the odd discreet conflab with their continental paymeisters at Warner Brothers. In fact, with the luvverly blue skies and visits to the Pantheon and the Vatican, these 48 hours could almost be described as classy.



Prolapse? Classy!???? Skankin' shrimp paste sandwiches, tomorrow Scotch Mick will be on a British Airways flight with Brian 'Queen' May. And Anita 'EastEnders' Dobson! And not only that, but he's also been pissed in Los Angeles! With Drew Barrymore!

'I pulled her ear!' he beams, ruddily. Yeah! Really! 'Yeah, I said "Cheers, Big Ears" and she went, "What? Cheers, Big Ass?" so I said, "No, ears!" and pulled one of hers to show her what I meant.'

Even better, we find Scotch Mick and co-conspirator/co-vocalist Linda Steelyard in a local backstreet restaurant, guffawing heartily at the Inglese menu and its poorly translated promises of Spaghetti on Angler's Way, A Little Walnuts by Vernaccia and, of course, the soon-to-be legendary starter, The Salmon Fill With a Smoke, because the menu reads like a Prolapse set list.

Yes indeed, 'Slash/Oblique', 'I Hate the Clicking Man', 'Return of Shoes'... you'll find all these and more stumpily-titled delights on 'The Italian Flag', the 'Lapses fine forthcoming (third) album. More Prolapse facts? The other two-thirds of the band consist of The Other Mick (Harrison, bass), Dave Jeffreys (guitar), Pat Marsden (guitar), Tim Pattison (drums) and Donal Ross-Skinner (keyboards). They all sound like they should be modelling donkey jackets in a Vic&Bob sketch, and they are all currently back in Leicester or London or wherever else it is that Prolapse have been accused of 'coming from', maaaaan.

To the average discerning punkoid punter, Prolapse have been around for blatheringly ages, whipping out such a stompingly comprehensive string of sniggles'n'sniggers for such a baffling variety of record companies that Mick and Linda struggle to remember, a) the song titles, b) the label names and c) what the hecksie becksie they're going on about.

In reality, the sextet fell into (mis)shape about three years ago in between studies in Leicester, and Mick was so shy he wore a balaclava onstage for the first, ooooh, 20 gigs. They have subsequently played a sweltering welter of maniac live shows with Pulp, Sonic Youth and Stereolab, the majority of which have dwelt upon the deranged antics of Linda and Mick. Crucially, every year Prolapse bung out a fantastic single like 'Pull Thru Barker' or 'TCR' and everyone goes 'BRILLIANT!' but nobody buys it so they slide back into saggy old oblivion; and this week Prolapse's BRILLIANT new single is called 'Autocade', which is so poptastically fantastic that Mick hates it.

Ummmmm.

'I choose not to be on it,' he says dismissively. 'I just don't like the song - it's not my cup of tea. But that's OK, we're in a band where it's not gonna cause any fuss. I just don't like our new single, that's all. It's too pop. That's the way the cookie crumbles.'

'It should be pointed out here that we didn't set out to write a pop song,' defends Linda. 'We don't want people thinking that. It just happened!'

'I still think it's crap,' mutters Mick.

'I could have shouted all over it ad then it wouldn't be a pop song,' insists Linda. 'It could've easily been someone boiling a kettle over the music or whatever. I mean, the next single could be ten minutes of Hoover noise!'

It probably will be, as well, which is precisely why Prolapse are hardly ranked alongside Fairy Liquid and Uncle Berkov's Ratcatcher Delight in the household name stakes. 'I can't write words that are about anything other than murder,' sighs Linda. 'And death. Oh, and relationships splitting up. I'm probably the nastiest person in the band, really.'

True, she has just spooned an entire mouthful of - wait for it - Parmesan cheese into her mouth, which is pretty damn nasty.

'We're somewhere between Throbbing Gristle and The Razorcuts,' leers Mick. 'Some of our album is unlistenable! A lot of it sounds on first listen like there's no structure to it. It's just the rantings of a madman and a madwoman!'

Brilliant! Of course, on the second and third and tenth listens you're convulsing along to the delirious rushes of sonic mayhem and Stereolab-in-a-madhouse grooves and understanding exactly what Linda means when she says that, 'There are a lot of people who are really fanatical about our music - they really do love us!'

Yip! Especially in America! But we digress. Anyhow, some Prolapse songs 'depress the shit' out of Linda, and that's brilliant as well, because, she says, 'I'd like people to get off on the words and I don't mean that people should go out and murder people but I'd like them to relate to it like a Smiths song: I'd like them to say, 'Oh, it's really miserable, but I know what she's going on about.'

What about the somewhat haphazard take on your career plan?

'We're not one of those bands that are really intense and go, 'Where shall we take it now?', sniffs Linda. 'Maybe that's where we're going wrong. We're quite take-us-or-leave-us, really. We're not into licking arses or anything like that.'

'If we'd put our minds to it, we could be as big as Symposium,' beams Mick. 'Or Morbid Angel.'

Great!

'I don't know what I'm doing in a band, actually. I don't really care about it. I'd be quite happy if 80,000 people bought the album - I'd be like, f---in' hell, people do appreciate us! But I'm not a wee crappy indie kid, I really don't care.'

He doesn't either - he prefers his job as an archaeologist back in Leicester to being a pop singer. But, of course, he does as well, because beneath his charmingly cantankerous Crass-rousing melody-loathing anarchist-with-a-small 'a' hollerings, one heartily suspects that Scotch Mick is as enamoured of his band's furious pop noise as the rest of the radiator-lugging Linda-hugging Prolapse fanatics are.

'I had to list my three current favourite bands the other day,'reveals Linda, blushing with the social importance of it all. Excellent! And, pray, which particular globally-renowned publication was canvassing your opinions on the likes of Tiny Too, Spraydog, and (possibly) Frankie Wank & The F---ers?

'It was for the Prolapse newsletter.' More blushing. 'Heeheehee!'

'Hurhurhurmph!' gurgles Mick.'And we wonder why we've never been big?'

Still class in a pint glass, though.

Conform or Die

A cup of tea with Prolapse

from Conform or Die issue 1 by Gordon Moakes

Not in a literal sense, of course, pop stars don't do such mundane things as having a cup of tea. But, as Alan Titchmarsh would agree, our alternative rock stars deserve the slightly irreverent cosy chat treatment just as much as his two-dimensional second rate celebrities do.

Still at work on their imminent album The Italian Flag, Prolapse's Linda, Geordie Mick, Tim and Pat enter for a 'Hello' magazine-style dissection of their back catalogue and current aspirations...


'What are you currently engaged in doing?'

'We're near Wrexham,' says Pat, 'in the studio mixing the album. We're really pleased with it so far.' Geordie Mick, on the other, is listening to Bowery Electric song on John Peel. 'It's bloody amazing.'

I ask about Prolapse as a phenomenon.

'Prolapse is a collection of six unfashionable irritating gits,' Geordie Mick begins, to set the scene. 'Dave is a married geezer who is so vague it takes him 13 hours to put his socks on; Tim is a fat beast who rubs kebab grease on his lips; Linda is a complete lunatic - one minute fluffy bunny, next minute axe-wielding psychopath. I get irritated by every petty... ' he continue, but Linda finishes his sentence for him: 'by every petty insignificant murmur which nobody else with a brain would ever notice.' The sense of harmony in the group is almost tangible. 'Scottish Mick is a blinkered argumentative alcoholic and Pat is depressed 24 hours a day. Here is the delicately balanced chemistry which seems vital in securing the unique creative chemistry at work... and it's hardly as if the band are averse to letting this tension spill out onto their records.

'Me and Mick don't want to kick each other in most of the time,' explains Linda. 'I can't explain why we feel drawn to play such fraught roles in the songs. We fall into it naturally.'

I ask the usual uninspiring questions about influences. Linda's obviously been here before. 'I've tried for ages to think of influences through numerous interviews but honestly can't. I don't think I've got any.'

Guitarist Pat tries to help. 'There are so many really. From Scott Walker, to Kraftwerk, to early Fairport Convention.'

You're usually compared to The Fall, yet in one of your songs [the Volume 14 version of Move to Limit Slabs] I remember the lyric 'We're not The Fall - they're some other band.'

'Yes indeed,' says drummer Tim,' but I don't think we sound as much like them as we're supposed to.' He goes on to mention Echo and the Bunnymen, the Chameleons, Blumfeld, Stereolab and Simon and Garfunkel amongst others.

In that case, who are your true enemies?

Here the band seem to an extent to agree. 'Blatant retro ripoff shite that smacks you round the ear-lobe every time you open the fucking front door,' says Geordie Mick unreluctantly. 'The worst tendencies of Britpop and safe uninspiring guitar pop,' concurs Pat. 'Mansun make me physically vomit, as do Herman's Hermits,' continues Mick even less compromisingly. 'Oh yeah, people who think liking early Cilla Black gives them some sort of inversed esoteric credibility.' Pat's enemies seem even more wide-reaching. 'Adolf Hitler, unimaginative journalists, Man United, people who don't like weasels, stoats etc... ' I begin to worry whether I might fall into any of those categories.'

'I think it's dangerous to cite people as enemies in case I ever need to be rescued by one of them,' puts in Linda. 'You never know.' I have visions of Mansun's Paul Draper rushing to Geordie Mick's assistance when it seems he might be choking on his own vomit.

I do think the Prolapse sound is a small part of The Fall, but their clanking has never been as stripped down yet tuneful at the same time. Things like 'Move to Limit Slabs' (B side to Killing the Bland, previously appeared in the Volume CD series) shows that concrete, chunky side to your sound, but there's always been songs like 'Hungarian Suicide Song', which is minimal, but aching and emotional too.

'Some review in America described us as all the bands you missed the first time around. Which I think is quite a compliment,' says Tim. 'No matter what you do you're always going to sound a bit like someone else. The trick is to sound like people you respect - The Fall and Joy Division is certainly true.'

I thought the last album, Backsaturday, was a progression. 'Zen Nun Deb' was particularly mature and emotional, and one of the few songs I have heard that successfully conjures up that unique Joy Division mood.

'I think they key of D minor helps,' says Pat. 'The second side of 'Closer' is nearly all in this gloomy key, But yes, it was probably our attempt to sound like 'Decades' and 'Heart and Soul' in one song - although the vocals are really very different to Joy Division type vocals.'

'It was written 30 minutes before it was recorded, very late at night when things were in a very Joy Division mood,' Tim adds. 'As far as the new stuff being more of a progression - the new album certainly follows that pattern. There's not a great deal of scratchy punk - though I never thought we were at the time - and there's quite a lot of keyboards on it which helps bring in new textures.'

How about another irrelevant question - what are your favourite record sleeves?

'I love, predictably enough, the minimalist Factory stuff,' says Geordie Mick. 'I used to love the montage cut up kind of stuff that loads of American bands ripped off from The Fall, but that's getting pretty boring. My favourite of all time is 'Primitive Painters' by Felt.' Pat adds 'all three Neu! albums and every Krankies album.' Tim's favourite is "Heaven up Here' 'from the days when standing enigmatically on a beach with a big coat on was deemed acceptable.' And it's no surprise that Mick's least favourite record sleeve is 'that ridiculous pile of crap 'K' by Kula Shaker.'

Linda recalls how one of their very own record sleeves came into being at a gig. 'Our first album was on very limited vinyl and 50 of the sleeves were painted by the audience behind us as we played. We didn't have any idea how they would end up. People brought things with them to stick on the sleeves and we provided paint, I think.'

I ask what a song like Chill Blown, from the first album, is an attempt to describe.

'Paintings,' says Linda simply.

'Musically, it's having a pretty good stab at describing a track off the first New Order album - possibly 'The Him'' says Pat. So it's not just me that thinks the first New Order album is actually one of their better works.

Anyway, to change the subject... is one of the lines in 'Every Night I'm Mentally Crucified (7000 Times) 'Your parents must love you to call you Kay?' I ask because I put this on a tape for a friend called Kay - absolutely true story - but I didn't notice the lyric until later.

'Yep that is one of the lines, but in this case it's a bloke called Kay,' Linda explains. 'Like called a girl John'.

It seems that this scenario is at the core of Prolapse. An axe-wielding fluffy bunny of a band, whose lyrics, similarly to The Fall, make you laugh out loud at times, before you realise the seriousness of the situation. A prolapse, in medical terms, in no laughing matter - I won't go into details. On stage there is often mayhem - two vocalists prowling around arguing with each other - and there is quite a sense of politeness, and getting down to the facts. But I wouldn't want to be Crispian Mills bumping into the six of them down a dark alley.

All of which bodes well for the release of The Italian Flag. The suspiciously on-form catchiness of Killing the Bland ('I might have to kill you,' offers Linda during the song, 'which wouldn't be fair... on me.' And what could be more affirming of its own assuredness than that kind of sentiment?) is just a starting point for the album, along with songs like 'Flat Velocity Curve', 'Autocade,' and 'Boston' ('working title'). New Prolapse. New danger.

Ludd Gang

The Biggest Library Yet

Interview with Tim Pattison in issue 7 of The Fall fanzine, early 97

Graham C: What is the history of your Fall covers group 'Ludd Gang'?

Tim Pattison: Ludd Gang was the fruition of about three years drunken talk around various pubs in Leicester. So far we've only played one gig, at the Pump and Tap in Leicester, supporting the Council. The line up was: me on drums, Johnny from Kooky Monster on bass, Zak from the K Stars and Neil from the Council both singing and guitars; a sort of two Marc Rileys and no MES type of Fall. If I can remember rightly the set was: Jawbone and the Air Rifle, Totally Wired, The Man Whose Head Expanded, Glam-Racket, Elves, Industrial Estate, New Face in Hell.

GC: Are there any plans for more gigs, recordings...

TP: There will definitely be another gig some time. Ludd Gang may put a track on a Leicester bands compilation CD which will also feature the bands the other members are in. Prolapse certainly don't have any plans to record Fall stuff, there are enough comparisons to start with.

GC: Come on then, favourite Fall songs.

TP: Too many to name but I will anyway. Jawbone and the Air Rifle, New Face in Hell, Hip Priest, Backdrop, Wings, Hexen Definitive/Strife Knot, Lay of the Land, What you Need, R.O.D., Gross Chapel, Australians in Europe, Athlete Cured, Big New Prinz, Sing! Harpy, War, It's a Curse.

GC: Are you an 80s Fall fan then?

TP: As you can probably tell from the list I don't like the recent stuff as much. I don't know if it's me that's changing or them. Personally I think the last great album they made was Extricate. Whether that was thanks to Mr Bramah I don't know. I think the determination to do an album every year has its price, witness four-track singles with every track being on the album following them and a worryingly high number of cover versions. Hopefully the re-arrival of Brix may stem any possible drying up, but it will take more than one album for the partnership to start producing classics again.

GC: Does the fact that Prolapse are often compared with The Fall annoy you?

TP: Any comparisons with other bands no matter who tend to get irritating after a while. I think I'm too familiar with The Fall's and Prolapse's music to judge how valid the press comparisons are. As far as it being early Fall, I'd rather be compared to Bend Sinister than Dragnet. Being compared to The Fall is much preferable however than Huggy Bear.

GC: Who else do you see as influences?

TP: Apart from The Fall, other major inspirations for Prolapse have been Stereolab, Th' Faith Healers and Joy Division, though not everyone in the band shares these. Stereolab are probably the only band we all rate.

GC: There can be a lot of tension visible on stage...

TP: We generally get on really well. Talking to other people in 'the biz' they are usually impressed at how united we are as a band. There are inevitable tensions within the band, but these are usually fairly transient and alcohol fuelled. I think everyone in the band appreciates each other's input equally, which is a very good thing. The gigs are often intense but there is a humorous side which helps to prevent things from boiling over.

GC: Is there anything that really annoys you about the music scene?

TP: I think the fickleness of the press is one of my biggest annoyances at the moment with bands like Supergrass being hailed as Britpop heroes, whilst bands like the Wonder Stuff and Kingmaker get laughed out of court. Personally I can't see the difference. Time until the Britpop backlash: two hours and counting. The other thing that really pisses me off is the lack of originality in today's bands, who generally don't possess an ounce of interest between them. Bland = successful. Interesting = obscure. I'm also pissed off that Prolapse aren't the biggest band on the planet.

10 Reasons to Love Prolapse

Sound of Confusion: 10 Reasons to Love Prolapse

by Everett True, Melody Maker



1. They're funny

That's misleading for starters.
Frightening, moving, scary, hypnotic, totally f***ing exhilarating...yes. Funny...well, OK, but only cos singer Mick has such a laconic, self-deprecating humour on stage.

2. Live, they've got the potential to be absolutely crap

"Live would be alright," argues Tim (drums) "except there's always this big Scottish bloke jumping around at the front."
"That's the best bit," says big Scottish Mick (voice), affronted.
"It's shit," shoots back the drummer.
"We have the potential for complete disaster," mediates Dave (guitar), "cos there's no organised rhyme or reason to it. It's complete chaos, but complete chaos that everyone's totally dedicated about."
"I'd like to see us live on telly," says Pat (keyboards), "if I wasn't in the band. It'd be different - or abysmal - but at least it wouldn't be as dismal as something like Echobelly or Menswear."
"We aim to be as good as the Cranberries," sneers Mick (bass).

3. They sound like all the bands you missed out on first time round

Maybe I should explain. The reasons given here are the band's, not mine.
One Prolapse trait is to be self-deprecating. (Another is to have vans break down two miles outside the venue on the side of a motorway, get drunk on subsidised beer and end up spending the night in a creche. As happened at Brighton Uni recently.)
The first time I met Scottish Mick, he insisted on singing half my back catalogue to me (songs even I had forgotten existed) and claimed that Prolapse are "the C86 band it's OK to like." Ugh! Damned by faint praise. The second time (in a venue on Brighton seafront), he and fellow singer Linda had a truly scary argument on stage, which ended up with punches being thrown. Theatre? Possibly.
The sixth time (at Reading Festival), he made a point of buying me back an owed drink - "cos no one ever buys me drinks" - and seemed very nonplussed when Eric from Hole informed him he'd just told Danish radio Prolapse were his favourite UK band (wouldn't you be?)
Anyway, I seem to be straying off the point.
Prolapse reckon the main reason people like 'em is cos they sound like all the other bands those people like. What a refreshing, wryly honest, viewpoint...to a degree. So, try Nurse With Wound, Savage Republic, Huggy Bear, The Legend! [sic], Prolapse, Prolapse... oh this is silly.
The reason I love Prolapse is for the way Linda screams at Mick "what's your excuse?" and asks "do you blame me?" so quite and scared. The reason I love Prolapse is for the way the guitars fade away on Every Night I'm Mentally Crucified (7000 Times) from the new album so sonorously; the way the guitars collide and collide again on the truly righteous Strain Contortion of Bag; the pounding of the drums. The reason I love Prolapse is...
"Do you want us to sing a C86 song for you?" asks Mick the bass. "Go on, name a band."

4. They're like a 'care in the community' band

"We're always willing to extend a helping hand to outcasts," explains Mick the voice. "We have nutters come up to us in Torquay, people who say we're the first band they've liked since the Sugarcubes, and then keep writing us strange letters. We take 16-year-olds to the pub and get them pissed. Well, alright, we didn't buy that boy any drinks, but we were nice to him, and we sang New Order songs to him as well, and he looked really scared."
"While all our fans will be soaring the heights with their fanzines and maagazines," he continues, "we'll be down in the gutter, drinking... piss."

5. They own cats

Yesterday, a friend lent me her copy of the video to Breakfast at Tiffany's, purchased only a few days before. Small gestures, which mean so much. Even though the ending's all wrong, and George Peppard doesn't deserve to be in the same frame as Audrey, it's till... look, you can't go to New York City and not visit Macy's, Tiffany's, run through several stop signs, fall in love with the first apartment cat you meet, and spend at least one dawn watching the sun come up over the Chrysler building.
Prolapse, you know, are people who understand this. They own cats. Prolapse, you know, are the kind of people who - if they lived in New York - would wear cut-price feather boas and get into arguments about David Gedge's parentage in bars between 7th and 8th streets.
When I was in Texas recently, I played a tape of Flex, the hypnotic lengthy opening track of Prolapse's new LP, Backsaturday, to King Coffey, drummer from Butthole Surfers. "A violent Stereolab," we all cried, delighted. It was perfect driving music for the humidity. Only problem was: the volume refused to go beyond a certain point. F*** it. We sang bawdily along anyhow.
Last night, I slipped Backsaturday into my CD-Rom player and blanked out. It felt like the world was ringing, falling through my ears. Prolapse understand the terror of solitude.

6. They're nice people

"We're a very nice, approachable, easy to work with band," says Tim. "We are."
"Ay, we are," agrees Mick the voice. "We sing nice songs, and if someone buys us a drink we're even friendlier. And our records are shite."

7. They read books

Unfortunately, I forgot to ask which ones.

8. They're romos

Oh f*** off, Mick. You're not.
Prolapse are just about the most un-stylish band I can think of. With the exception of Mick's black jumpers and Linda's boots, they have a dress sense which makes Mark E Smith look like the Fourth Earl of Argyll. Dressing down? Down and out. That's not to say they don't have their own style, however... but they're far darker than today's crop of young hedonists.
"A lot of us just like the darker side to things, musically," explains Mick the voice. "We went to Ian Curtis' grave. Tim's got mud rubbings of the inscription on a pink bit of paper, which he carries with him everywhere he goes. It was four days before the anniversary and the grave was completely boggin'. In the same graveyard is one for Edward Woodward... "
"Even though he's not dead," interrupts Mick the bass.

9. They play every last song like it's their last

"Maybe next week we won't be here," muses Dave. "Then we can sit around in a pub pissed, feeling really cynical and twisted, saying, 'I used to be in a band, you know.'"
"It's the best way to record," states Pat, "thinking that you're gonna split up afterwards."
"Every gig could be our last," says Linda.
"Every gig sounds like it's our first," Tim corrects her.

10. They argue constantly

"We're a low rent Gallagher brothers for people who can't afford the real thing," states Mick the voice, finally.

Methinks thou dost protest too much.

Planet of Sound - fanzine interview

Planet of Sound #7, interview by Duncan Illing

Two characters are sat across a table from me in the corner of a pub somewhere in North London. A bloke, a woman. I'm listening to their conversation.
'Prolapse is a medical term,' the bloke says. 'When in pregnancy you get prolapse placentas, the placenta comes away at the wrong time and causes complications.'
'Not really,' replies the woman. 'It's when your intestines fall out of your bottom. In fact I had a kitten who had one, he had little pink lumps sticking out of his... and it went back in again.'
Meet Prolapse. In fact, meet Prolapse the London contingent, Dave and Linda, because it is something of a feat to get all of Prolapse in the same place at the same time. Based in Leicester, Newcastle and London, rehearsals have been known to be only a monthly affair.
As Dave explains 'You gotta get six people from different parts of the country together. It's a bit of a crap hobby really.'

'If we'd practiced every week, by the time we get to play it live we'd be sick to death of it and we wouldn't want to do it,' remarks Linda.
This is a band who started out in Leicester playing live sets that featured a single strobe light and a vocalist who wore a snorkel parka.
'It was awful,' comments Dave. So much so that he joined on guitar, followed closely by co-vocalist Linda to complement Mick.

Prolapse are a live spectacle. Mick started dismantling the stage with a screwdriver at a recent gig. In the past they have brought props on stage and beat the shit out of them. Gigs were not only musical performance but theatre too. Eccentric theatre at that.
'Mick used to smash up tellies and throw things at the audience,' Linda explains. 'Then the press started saying those Prolapse smash up tellies. It's just that we don't like standing still on stage and we have a lot of energy. The smashing has stopped (well, it's under control).'
Watching Prolapse's Linda and Mick on stage, you will notice the way they are so intensely within their own bizarre little worlds. Unconscious of their surroundings until they are bumped into, back to reality. Dazed and confused with a bubbly energy originating from their own unique madness it would seem. Linda rubbing both eyes with her hands clenched in fists while in verse, Mick taking screws out of the stage. Not a typical vocalist's stance.
'Sometimes I totally, totally forget that Mick's there,' remarks Linda. 'He'll do the same with me. He doesn't have his voice in the monitors, so I can't hear what he's saying, so that makes it easier to forget he's there. We'll bump into each other and maybe if the mood's right we'll have a scrap of a hug or whatever. It's difficult to explain cos it happens so subconsciously, it's not like Oh I know I'll go over there and put Mick's jumper on.'

Linda is prone to reading the odd book over the fizziness of Prolapse's performance. Mid-song, out comes a book. Most recently High Fidelity by Nick Hornby.
'It changes, cos if I'm reading a book at the time it'll probably be that,' says Linda. 'But I usually take a small selection of books. One is a mini encyclopedia and another called Sex Manners for the Single Girl and it's from the late sixties and is about what you should or shouldn't do. Once, we were supporting Pulp at Essex University and of course the audience was there for Pulp and I think we were even more disjointed than we are now! This was about two years ago and I got this big text book and was ripping stuff out of it and throwing it at the audience and people were (eyes bulge), put off by it. I think from then, my pile of books shrunk.'

Prolapse are also prone to the impulsiveness of live experimentation ie. avoiding the expected and not playing what the audience has come to hear.
'When the band first started, every song was made up during the set,' says Linda. 'Of course, the years go by and you record stuff, but we try and stick to this thing about making things up. So we take advantage of sessions.'

Prolapse made up last year's twin A side, Unroadkill, live on a radio station in Portland, USA.
'It's different every time, the vocals are different. We make things up at gigs,' enthuses Linda.
Do you take into account what the audience wants to hear? This make up stuff on the spot approach may lead to inconsistencies - a 15-minute art wank experiment may not satisfy the majority of an audience.
'I think there is a certain amount of pressure for us to be a band now,' responds Dave. 'If it was an audience that had seen us a few times, we'd make stuff up. But if it's playing to a new audience in a new city, then we'd stick to stuff that's written,' Linda comments.

Prolapse have had some truly mad live experiences. As Dave comments, the emphasis is directed at the audience. 'The thing about a Prolapse gig is to get a load of energy going. Once you get that you just want to keep playing. I think it's also important for us to keep a level of tension. If everything's buzzing, you just want to keep that going. One night I always refer to is a gig in Paris that ended in carnage, a huge mound of bodies on stage. We'd never been to Paris before and we thought everybody would be sat around writing philosophy.'
'They were diving on stage and lying on it and Dave jumped on,' says Linda.
'Yeah, I was about halfway down the pile. I didn't think they would carry on.'
'It's like, your music has made people do that... that's what's good about it.'
'I've been to a lot of gigs where I've though, I love this band, but it's boring and my legs are hurting,' explains Dave. 'That's one thing I'd like people to remember us by, that you didn't feel like you were standing there and your legs are hurting and you'd want to sit down.'
So Prolapse have an ambition in that sense.
'I'm only motivated to be in a band by really negative things. I really hate so much music that's around at the moment, that's what makes we want to make music.'
'I can't write about anything positive,' adds Linda. 'I don't know why.' (Dave chuckles.) 'I can't! I just feel too tedious on stage singing about positive nice things. Anything that is negative, about death, or about relationships ending, anything like that or about people going mad. Anything along those lines.'
Dave talks of Joy Division, the Velvet Underground, Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, and the fact that Marion are definitely not the new Joy Division.

So what about life for Prolapse beyond the cliquey indie underground? 'I'm not afraid of pissing off that sort of scene cos I don't actually feel part of it,' swipes Dave. Prolapse want to head in the opposite direction to everyone's expectation, away from both the cliqueness of the underground and the potential of the mainstream. Oddballs in the middle. '
'We've got to be interested in it, that's how we are,' says Dave. 'Maybe at one point we'll get swept up by the music biz and do all these things we don't want to do. I don't think we're capable of that actually. If we all get fed up we won't want to do it.'
So where does that leave you?
'We want to be accepted to an extent, but as an interesting entity,' replies Dave. 'A creative event instead of being great musicians, as to writing great pop songs. I'm not slagging off great pop songs, it's quite hard work really.'
'Maybe we should write some pop songs and get some money,' responds Linda.
'We have,' mentions Dave, 'we've written pop songs, but by accident,'
Corking bubbly power pop, like the live fave they don't play very often, TCR.
'We don't like our pop songs though,' says Linda.

So what of the scenario of Prolapse having a hit pop song on their hands? They recently appeared on the Chart Show. 'The thought of having an accidental hit,' says Linda, 'the pressure is on - not from out point of view - but from lots of other people's point of view, for us to write a song that was at least as big a hit as the previous one. You lose a lot of respect if you have just one hit. If it's an accident you've shot it really cos you're not writing hits. Maybe we do under perform, cos we know we could be number one in the charts.'
'The fluke hit single is a possibility, but the follow on is just not possible.' Dave states.
'A flukey one hit wonder band, that's a horrible phrase,' snorts Linda.

Prolapse have a spanking new album in their sights. In their hands they have the extremes of both potential hit pop tunes up against experimental workouts that will take their own little adventures. Whatever way they go from here, that is left to fate.
'You can get really bogged down thinking about it all,' remarks Linda, who would rather remain flippant. While Dave would rather forget stardom and settle down to his PhD and bring up his two kids.
Prolapse have experienced a long hard slog to this stage of recognition. So perhaps I should mention their polar opposite, Kula bloody Shaker. Perhaps now after the slog, Prolapse really wouldn't mind a quick splash into that pond called fame.
'I have no respect for situations like that,' spits Linda at my mention of that band. 'It really irritates me! We slogged our way around the shitest clubs, when there has been no one there. We have dragged ourselves up by our bootstraps.No one has given us money to help us. We got where we are today - not very far - by playing hard, going out and playing gigs and kipping on people's floors. The thought that someone can come along from nowhere with a famous mum and get a number one really irritates me so much. It realy does,'
'It's what the people want,' remarks Dave. 'What my gripe is, these bands don't sound very good. They're not trying very hard. There are lots of bands which do and who are never going to be very big. Most of the bands we respect could only dream of being on Top of the Pops.'
That's life. But Prolapse plod on up that path to fame. Perhaps those pop songs they make mention of will carry them at greater pace. Or perhaps they'll take their eccentric experimental jamboree into history, to be discovered after they've split up. Who knows?
'That's what it probably is really. Prolapse is a crap hobby,' remarks Dave.
'We've got to enjoy it to do it,' points our Linda. Crap hobbies indeed, enjoyment is the key and Prolapse still do it.

Junction 27 interview

by Sally Crewe

'Prolapse began to take themselves seriously in 1992 after John Peel described them as a "class act"... '

The press release that arrived with Prolapse's debut (the Crate EP) tells me this, although I would be happier describing Prolapse as a class accident. Shaking and stirring the senses, this Camden-Leicester-Newcastle based six-piece cover all bases at once, both musically and geographically. In Pavementesque style they live so far apart as to warrant few practises, telling me they prefer it like that anyway, and who am I to disagree? The proof's in the performance. Testing out new material on stage maintains the freshness and genuine excitement for the music that most bands lose through endless, trudging days of rehearsal. Prolapse are giving a much needed slap around the face of indie music with a big, scary (but lovable) punk-pop hand branded 'Spontaneity Rules...'

In a small room littered with coffee mugs and a generous amount of comfy sofas and armchairs, deep below the Almeda Theatre in Islington (we've just finished watching a play which Linda directed), I manage at last to gather the majority of Prolapse in the same place at once for a brief interview. Mick, Tim, Linda, Pat and 'Geordie' Mick (five out of six ain't bad), now filling the room with silence, break it to ask me what I want them to talk about. I want to see if what I've understood their band to be about is the same as how they see it. I tell them to tell me about Prolapse.

'We're not very deep, in fact we're dead shallow,' grins Scottish Mick.

'I only got asked to do it because I'm a girl,' quips Linda.

'We do it because we want to - no other reason,' says Tim, providing the first sensible thing I've heard all day. 'Everybody does just what they want to do. We don't plan anything, we've never had any big, big...'

'...overall scheme,' continues Pat. 'We just do it because we want to hear the music.'

Prolapse's live world consists of a near-constant screaming debate between Linda and Mick, their visual rows only interrupted at the chance to play with some props - sometimes smashing televisions, although often it's just Linda crouched on the floor perusing through a red bread bin full of old copies of Melody Maker. I ask them what that's all about?

'Just to make it look er...!' Mick thought he could explain.

'It's the only way we could get them to shut up, you see. As long as you give them something to hit when they're not singing,' explains Tim like he's reporting the progress of nursery kids.

'All the old songs used to be me singing non-stop, so it's just to make it more interesting to watch,' says Mick, 'because you find yourself staring into space. There's so much going on, you can watch people with different instruments and then you can forget about them for a bit and watch something else.'

'You go to a hundred and one indie gigs and they're all the same, it's just that the music's different. We just wanted to try and make it look different too, so people can remember us,' says Tim. 'Maybe they're going to hate it but they're not going to forget it.'

'It's like having a wee video on stage as well, it kinda enhances the music,' adds Mick.

'Sometimes we've had a television on at a gig, just a small black and white telly showing clips of stuff. Every gig should be different,' Pat tells me.

'In the beginning all the lyrics were made up as we went along. It's not as much now because when you keep singing it more and more you remember it and you sing the same lyrics, but at the start it was just all made up,' says Mick.

'We can't tell which song's which,' says Linda. 'We didn't know any names for them.'

'It's just so that you don't have to see the same gig,' explains Mick. 'If you went to see us a couple of times it'd be different.'

'What make sit more exciting, I think, is that me and Mick have different names for the songs to the rest of the band...' begins Linda.

'They just have: "That one that goes"...' says Pat.

'Yeah. "Which one's this then?" she continues. "That one when I go"... and then we know what it is from that. Sometimes we get it wrong - sometimes I get it wrong.'

Have you considered expanding?

'What, getting even more people in?' asks Pat.

'Aye!' laughs Mick. 'We were going to have a cello player and a keyboard player.'

'I think maybe in the future we wouldn't mind trying one-offs and stuff,' suggests Tim.

'I think it's be quite good to have about 42 people in,' states Pat.

'As long as we can get paid in multiples of 42 quid.'

'That's the problem with there being six of us,' begins Mick. 'We end up getting paid 20 quid and Tim comes up and goes "Two fifty!" and I'm like: 'Oh brilliant." Sometimes he comes up with a tenner and you're going "What - is that between us?"

Financial crises aside, it seems that Prolapse are about fun, noise and simply doing exactly what you want, when you want. That was the feeling I got from watching them live and I'm thankful to know that they hadn't planned it, it's just how they are.

Last week Scottish Mick sent me a present. Inside the brown prepaid DSS envelope that arrived were the following items: a yellow tissue, a small set of lottery-style tickets with Greek writing on the back of each), an official programme for Shawfield Stadium greyhound racing club (with dogs such as Toronto James and Barefoot Ben circled), a City of Leicester housing benefit payment reference form (dated 25 Oct 93), a reply letter to a fan from Julian Cope and a cheque for 25p. There was also a postcard from Glasgow, saying: 'Sally, yr fanzine is the word 'good' added up 3 times + multiplied by 4: I make that a round dozen. XXX - Mick Scot. Prolapse (bad name).'

Only two days before I had received a copy of Prolapse's newest EP - Pull Thru Barker - and been amused at the self-written insert stating that "The picture is our first official photo taken in the early days when we were all Scandinavian children. Our names then were too hard to spell but are now (from the top of the ladder) Tim Pattison - drums, Mick Harrison - bass, Dave Jeffries - guitar, Linda Steelyard - vocals, Mick Derrick (balaclava in pocket) - vocals and chanter and, in the blood-stained apron, Pat Marsden - guitar.'

I thought that was funny till he sent me this. (I posted him a plastic Thunderbirds figure of Lady Penelope in return: I hope he likes it.)

So, they're great. It's quite possible that a couple of them are kind of mad, but on the whole, they're all you could want from a group of shouty-witty-punk-pop type band and for now no one could really disagree with Tim:

'I think at the moment the chemistry is just right,' he says. 'To change it would be stupid.'

Totally Wired fanzine interview

by Andy Wired

When the phrase 'cash from chaos' was coined in the heady days of punk, seemingly nobody was listening. Prolapse, the best band around, both live and on record (and that's not even debatable) thrive on chaos. They rub against the grain of accepted normality with a gleeful glint in their collective eye and a razorblade stashed down their socks for when the going gets tough. There is no order, the music is just as likely to become like a heated argument involving the couple next door tearing each other apart, physically and verbally, over an incessant barrage of early Fall and Kraftwerk albums as its take on a Stereolab-like ambient blitz through stark, repetitive riffs and crazed collages of sound. Y'see, Prolapse are far from being one-dimensional and equally at home with dark, moody experimentations and demented amphetamine-addled stare punk blitz. Yet, as I conduct this interview, unbelievably, they have no record label. A damning indictment on the cosy safeness of blanket boredom we are being force fed. For fuck's sake, somebody must have enough suss to realise that Prolapse are never gonna be Top of the Pops/ Smash Hits one-hit wonders yet will undoubtedly rarely fail to pull the crowds. Totally Wired spoke to Linda Steelyard (L), Mick Derrick (M), and Dave Jeffreys (D).

The best band around, both live and on record...

First of all, what happened to the deal you had with Cherry Red?

L: As far as we know what happened was, you know they closed down their whole A&R department and then reopened it again cos they wanted to get back into modern music and they found a few bands - us, Blind Mr Jones and Tse Tse Fly - and then just completely out of the blue, after a year or so, we got a letter saying our contract wasn't gonna be renewed because they decided to close down the A&R department again. God knows why. I think they just panicked and I think they'd forgotten that you actually have to put money into bands before you got any back. It's daft really, even from a business point of view, but they can make enough money out of their back catalogue really, so they might as well do that.

D: They basically dropped everybody and felt it was safer to just go with their back catalogue. It was very last minute and I'm not sure if they're gonna regret it or not. It could be a blessing in disguise.

M: I think they were more interested in raising the status of the label and we just kinda did our job, so they got rid of us. We owed them £8000, so that's all been written off.

We're not gonna be on Top of the Pops overnight

There's been rumours circulating about a couple of major labels showing interest - are you about to sign to another label?

L: Oh blimey. There's been quite a few labels interested but we're not interested in going with any major label, just because it's not us. We've been offered a couple of deals, one's for a decent amount of money but we've decided we'd rather go for the one with less money simply because we think they'll be behind the music more and it's the enthusiasm and genuine interest in the music you need more than the empty promises and a bit of cash, that's rubbish. Plus, if we took the massive deal we're not gonna be on Top of the Pops overnight unless the attitude of the British public changes drastically and we're not gonna be able to put back massive advances quickly and we don't want some accountant sitting in his or her office, totting up the figures and saying oh dear, this is a bit of a deficit with Prolapse, they'll have to go because then we're just back in the same situation. So it's best for everybody if we take the smaller deal. It's with Flying Nun anyway.

D: It's still in negotiation at the moment, but it looks likely to be Flying Nun. We've had a bit of interest from America. I don't think that many people know what to do with us. A&R people come to our gigs but even though they like the band they don't wanna sign us, there's a climate within the industry that's quite conservative. It's an interesting development because both Urusei Yatsura and Bis used to write to the Prolapse Information Service and now our fans are becoming more sought-after than us.

M: We're gonna be releasing Backsaturday with PCP I think, but it's gonna have TCR on it too, just to add a bit of a poppy slant for those American underground ears. There's also talk of a singles compilation being released in America too. We're wrangling with Flying Nun here, and that looks hopeful too, but you never know. It's just one of those things that takes ages with all the contracts and shite like that, one of the most boring things in the world to do with music.

You've recorded with a couple of labels since you left Cherry Red: Lissy's and Love Train. There seems to be a lot of label-hopping and one-off records going on in the alternative scene at the moment, almost echoing what's been happening in the American underground for a while now. Is that a healthy thing?

L: I don't wanna use a phrase invented by the papers, but this British underground thing which is what's going on even though NME has trademarked it, I think bands in that category are having a bit of a problem finding deals because, like us, they're not gonna be on TOTP overnight but they wanna be, perhaps, with labels that have got a little money behind them. In the meantime, when you're trying to find that illusive deal, you wanna put stuff out and you go onto maybe some friend's label or something, but also it's kinda keeping the real indie ethic alive of small labels and DIY. It is happening loads with labels like Kitty Kitty, Love Train and Fierce Panda and the likes. A lot of people are doing it, and it's partly to bridge that gap and also it's making for something very exciting, however loosely linked.

D: I thought that maybe at the beginning of 95 there were all the majors looking for their token indie band and that was really unhealthy, but some of the indie labels were more interested in finding the next Blur or Oasis and not mush else. The thing about record labels is that you have to get everyone from the label to your gig because one person can't make a decision on their own. I think the major music press have been really bad recently. It's always Oasis, Blur, Pulp and that kind of 'we want stars' shit that's still going on. They're not interested in the music. There is a certain way to sound to get you into the music press and it's so conservative. All the bands sound like Freddie and the Dreamers, rather than the Beatles and they're all exactly the same. I hope we're not destined to be one of those bands that everybody likes but never get anywhere.

I've got friends who are into dance music and the word indie is a swear word.

We do actually write pop music and it is catchy but it's not bland enough for these times. I've got friends who are into dance music and the word indie is a swear word. No offence to Lush but that's what everyone thinks when you say indie. I do like the word because there's a plethora of really good music out there every bit as exciting and inventive as dance music. I do think, since the dance revolution, that bands really have to try harder to be special. People are used to having a really good time at the weekend and perhaps gigs aren't that exciting anymore, but they can be. The gig is getting close to being obsolete, there are places where people actually don't like going to gigs anymore. Leeds is awful, I've had so many really shitty times there. I think that everything is still too centred in London and all that Camden shit only perpetuates that. Thankfully Glasgow is getting written about but they do still have to make that London connection to get the seal of approval.

M: We're thinking of doing more one-off singles. We wanna do one for Guided Missile with Donkey, basically cos it's a pal. But I think it's got more exciting during the past year with loads of really cool small labels and hundreds of great 7" singles. People are being less and less tied to the big labels and in turn the major labels are more out of touch and less sussed about what's happening in the indie world. They're getting a lot more cautious as well, which is a great thing for smaller labels. There seems to be a really big marketplace for alternative music again and one that's not really elitist, but something that's kept smaller scale with 7" singles and limited editions simply because of the nature of the bands and the majors' unwillingness to take risks. The majors go for the obvious because they need to make the money back. They use the indies as a breeding ground - kind of like non-league football and the professional leagues. 1995 was such a good year musically, especially singles. There's so much going on now. It's no good, businesswise, for bands like us cos there's so much competition, but it's so exciting.

Your two most recent releases, TCR and Backsaturday, have shown the very contrasting sides of the band - is that something you like to play around with?

L: Yeah, we've got so many different sides to the band that are all equally as important and it's nice to be able to show all those aspects. Do you know about Backsaturday, the story behind it? Jamie from Lissy's gave us £300 and he told us to record something for him. That bought us three days in a friend's studio and so we went in with no ideas apart from five minutes of Flex. So we just started at the very beginning, bought in some extra instruments and bits of equipment and just all farted about and didn't really do much, and then somebody would just start playing guitar or banging something and the rest would join in and the results were recorded, and that's Backsaturday. We started on Friday morning and by Sunday night it was mixed. I really like it, it was nice to do something other than just vocals, I played keyboards and recorder and even though we know TCR is more poppy, we thought it was a good idea to let them both come out at the same time so that people didn't think we'd gone in any certain direction. We knew that TCR would set the balance straight.

M: It's been a bit of an experimental stage, if I can say that without sounding something poncey like Steve Hillage, because we're in between labels so we wanted to use this time to try out things. Backsaturday has sold really well too. I think it's one of those records that you couldn't get into right away.

So you still record things in that spontaneous way, making things up in the studio?

M: Aye. The last thing we recorded was Backsaturday. Most of the tracks didn't have any vocals until I went in and shouted a load of nonsense but yeah, a lot of that spontaneity is still there. You get the odd one where we've practised. We practice a lot of the stuff live, that's when we do all the new ones. You get the odd disaster, like when we were in Amsterdam and we had to do a live broadcast and we were saying to the guy, oh we're dead cool we'll just make things up as we go along. And we did a few songs that we knew and thought we'd make a few up and we did this song that was the most crap thing you've ever heard in your whole life. So it doesnae always work. It was complete mince!

So what happens when you play the songs live, because you've recorded them, do you feel limited in what you can do with them because the audience expects to hear them as they are on record?

M: Not really, even old songs we change them al the time. Also, I've got a really bad memory and I forget the words and the stuff I make up usually turns out better than the stuff we've recorded. It stops it getting boring.

L: Once it's recorded it still doesn't always feel right and we often add things and take bits away and we might even record things again at another stage.

We've not actually recorded anything yet but there are a couple of things now that we'd like to rearrange and redo for a new album, whenever that gets done, so it's quite possible the lyrics will change again and certainly on stage they're always changing. The only thing I'm quite conscious of, though, is that people do like to get to know the words and sing along at gigs and if the person on stage is doing different things in the song, it loses the familiarity, and that's important. But I do feel it's important to change things that don't feel right cos otherwise I'd just get bored with doing that song.

Because you're all living in different parts of Britain, does that make rehearsals a nightmare?

L: We don't get together as much as we should but I don't think we're reluctant to rehearse. It's kinda difficult to organise. Also, we're not really about, y'know, this song always has five chords and this is how it always sounds. That's not us at all. Some bands like to practise every couple of days so they're really tight but we find that boring. We do play gigs where we come off and say we were really tight, but our tight is everybody else's all over the place!

Each instrument is doing its utmost to be heard above the others and the result is a brutal cacophony of freeform anarchy

D: I think we'd be a different band if we practised a lot. You can overdo things. Someone at our old record label said something really strange along the lines of 'you have to work at improvisation'. That's really paraphrasing it, but it's difficult to see that when you've not practised in ages and then the first thing you do when you get together is bloody amazing.

M: I don't really find it exciting. It's like, if I'm gonna make something up, there's no audience to get into it, but if you're doing it in a recording studio or live onstage, it's like your mind ticks over faster and you get more into it.

Prolapse live are an unbelievable experience. No two gigs are the same and you're just as likely to see Linda and Mick fighting one another in an extremely real, completely unrehearsed bout of hysterical anger release as you are to watch them perform a rigidly tight set. The thing you are guaranteed, though, is huge excitement. It's not just the well-publicized occasional rucks between the two vocalists. Each instrument is doing its utmost to be heard above the others and the result is a brutal cacophony of freeform anarchy that will have you twisting and turning, like watching a tennis match on fast forward, to keep up with the myriad of onstage happenings.

How hard is it to keep that air of surprise in the live shows now that the onstage fighting has been well documented?

M: Not very. Every time something gets a bit static or expected, we make subtle changes. Like the way everyone expects me and Linda to have fist sights. We had one in Germany and we hadn't had one in ages and it seemed really fresh again. Things are always twisting and turning and there's always a lot of exuberance, so while we've still got that then it's exciting. I don't think we have it in us just to do nothing, so we're always twisting things. Who knows, maybe we'll start pushing each other around in prams or something. I'm sure it'll keep changing and hopefully there's always gonna be that air of surprise in it. You've always got to make an effort and be different without forcing it.

Who knows, maybe we'll start pushing each other around in prams or something.

L: The gigs are just naturally different, that's just the way we play, probably because we don't have this tightness or whatever that others aim for. A far as the way me and Mick move about onstage, when we first started we had a lot of different props onstage and we'd smash things up, or throw things at one another and the audience, and that was great. But then the press started going 'go and see Prolapse, they throw things' so we just thought no, that's completely not that it's about at all, so we stopped doing it. Now the press say 'go and see Prolapse, they fight onstage' and that's completely irritating. What they should say is 'Go and see Prolapse, they do whatever they wanna do' because we never rehearse or plan any outbursts but to some it probably seems as though we do.

The stage is a massive playground and we use it

D: I think maybe it's time to move on. It's been a natural thing to change things when they become expected. If it doesn't look forced, that's all right. The one thing that a lot of journalists miss is that the whole band are arguing within the music. It is very repetitive and we like to build things up into a real cacophony live. There is a lot of discipline, the messy bits are just superficial. There's definitely two lines of attack to Prolapse.

Does it ever feel like you're going through the motions?

L: I think some people do go along with the specific idea of seeing us fight. There's nothing more boring than thinking oh no, it's that song, here comes the fight, from my point of view. It would be so crass and boring if it was staged. It's not put on and shouldn't be perceived as such. Sometimes we do irritate each other and it'll kick off. We don't really care what we do onstage and we use that. The stage is a massive playground and we use it depending on how we feel at the time.

M: Every now and then you feel like you're going through the motions. A really important thing about our live shows is that it all depends on how you're feeling on the night. You're always playing a part really, I don't ever really feel like I'm me when I'm on stage and you can get into your characters and you don't have to be the same pissed off person who was wandering around drinking beer five minutes ago. I feel like I'm a serial killer onstage.

Despite the frequent onstage arguments, tantrums and general disintegration into physical violence, Prolapse seemingly get along very well offstage. The band recently went on a lengthy European tour, and the question had to be asked, were the band as amenable after being stuck in a van for hours on end? Despite having formed when some of the band were at poly/uni/college in Leicester and were all close friends, the fact that they now live scattered around the country and self-admittedly rarely meet up for rehearsals, was bound to take its toll, wasn't it?

L: Well, we're all very different people and we're a strange group in that we've got together in Leicester on the basis that we were all friends, but I don't think we'd all be friends now if it wasn't for the band really because we're all very different people with different ideas and strong personalities and I've been around other bands and it made me realise what a strange concoction of people Prolapse are. One minute we'll be absolute best of friends, a really tight group, and the next minute everybody hates each other. There's been a couple of fights between various members of the band, not including the ones between me and Scots MIck and it can go up and down from one day to the next. There's a couple of people in the band whose moods swing quite a lot.

I feel like I'm a serial killer onstage

M: Most of the time, if we can get away from each other, it's probably a good idea. When we're in the van, it's quite tolerable, everybody does get on, but you have the inevitable arguments that are fuelled more when the van breaks down in the middle of nowhere on the continent and somebody on the other end of the phone is telling you that you're not actually in the AA.

D: We do get on amazingly well. We didn't pace ourselves very well with two heavy nights in Hamburg, but it was really the van that caused the most problems.

VOLUME 12, Winter 94 article

Vol 12, Winter 94: 18-track CD and booklet - includes Visa for Violet and Van

Article by Susan Corrigan

Note: Two lines seem to be missing in the original, symbolised by * *


'You're making this up as you go along, aren't you?' Mick Derrick exclaims, from a payphone somewhere in boredom-torn Leicester (the clink of a glass on the receiver confirms that this particular payphone is located in a pub).

Possibly, but isn't that wholly appropriate when we've convened to discuss the pleasures and perversions of Prolapse, the band most likely to pull a song from thin air? Is it not right, in this instance, to improvise?

Over their short career - two singles and an LP, to be precise - Prolapse have given their music some serious unpredictable schtick. Reference points that don't annoy the band include The Fall and Huggy Bear, DIY with more than a spark of life and plenty of irreverent attitude. Not to mention some nice clangy bits.

The six members of the band met a few years ago at university in Leicester but have since scattered around the country and now collide only for gigs and interviews. Gigs are shambolic affairs with singer Mick and co-singer Linda Steelyard battling for control of the Prolapse beast, smashing stuff up and making a satisfyingly happy mess. Practice, it seems, does not make perfect in the eyes of this band.

'I prefer not to practice,' Mick laughs. 'It's mince!'

Instead, he's using the conversation to develop some tasty new rants. He's been in this hostelry all destiny * * pouring glasses of nasty brown stuff down his neck. He is, as they say in the Gorbals, his 'hood of origin, pished.

'It's one of my favourite things to do, sitting in pubs. Yesterday we sat in the pub and got pished, then we went to Snibston Discovery Park, which is like a science museum.

'I like places where you can press buttons and pull knobs all day, but there were all these crying kids and I wanted to kill them, so we went back to the pub and got soaked.'

Mick Derrick is the ranter of Prolapse, who swears blue murder in deepest Glaswegian across the band's entire catalogue. He doesn't seem to have mellow moments. Safely ensconced in a pleasant chamber several hundred miles away, co-singer Linda confirms Mick's reputation as a nutter. 'The only things I can remember about Scottish Mick and either very offensive or highly illegal,' she says, wincing. With guitarist Pat Marsden and bassist Mick Harrison (known to all as Geordie Mick), Linda is gleefully dissecting the band's latest weird weekend. They have, as it happens, met more nutters at a gig. They often do that. 'One boy brought an entire bag of potatoes for us to sign,' Linda says. Geordie Mick was pretty freaked out as well: 'He said he wanted to be reincarnated as a patch of lichen.'

After a slight flutter of worry - potato nutter knows where they live - Linda sighs: 'Oh well, potatoes today, nuclear weapons tomorrow.' She breaks into a pixie smile. 'Boom.'

Crash, bang, wallop. This is the sound of Prolapse detonating on Visa for Violet and Van, their track on Volume Twelve. Founded on a bedrock of industrial strength percussion, Visa thrusts ahead on pealing guitars as Mick spins a disorienting but brilliant narrative over Linda's enunciated wordplay: 'Painful aimless blameless nameless squareless famous playless shameless... '

It's a great introduction to Prolapse's multitude of difficult charms, not least because the track is completely improvised. 'It's quite scary wondering how it will turn out,' Pat says.

'We wanted to take the opportunity we were given to just experiment,' Linda says. Usually when someone mentions the dreaded 'i' word, it conjures up visions of pretentious men in black turtlenecks auditioning for Glenn Branca's Guitar Orchestra. Prolapse have a more gleeful, hands-on approach.

'We used to improvise every song when we started out,' Geordie Mick explains, 'partly because we were appalling but partly to push ourselves harder.'

Linda giggles: 'I used to say whatever words entered my head when I joined,' she says. 'Now when we decide to improvise a track, like we might do for Volume or a Peel session, there's a little more... direction to what we do. I don't think any other band do what we do though. The six of us all come prepared with our bit and just jam. Can you think of anyone else who really does that?'

But where are Prolapse going? Some might call * * at the last straws of that strange early 80s austerity/autonomy vibe best evidenced by bands like the Au Pairs and many of Prolapse's departed Cherry Red labelmates. Others see the band's vein of miserablism as a rich seam of humour, which helps Linda because some of her songs are transcripts of nightmares she's had, like Burgundy Spine from the LP. 'Being miserable is funny,' she says. 'It's like Coronation Street or the Smiths.'

Prolapse records range from what Pat calls dirges, to the upfront poppiness of their last single, Doorstop Rhythmic Bloc. The schizophrenia of the records doesn't offer any clues, but Linda is adamant that Prolapse stay out of pigeonholes altogether. 'People wanna adopt you and put you in a little box. It really annoys me when people imply that we're like other bands, because we're not like anyone else at all! Everyone says that, but there are bands that jump into someone else's formula and that's not us.'

So what do Prolapse want? Success? High street adulation?

'Well we won't exactly be playing Wembley this time next year,' deadpans Pat.

'What I'd really like is to make the kind of records you see when you look through a mate's collection - you stop at ours and think Cool!' Linda says. 'That's perfect.'

Back in the pub, Scottish Mick is getting philosophical, and everyone has become his friend. He's going on about the potato nutter - clearly this man has made an impression - and contemplating the next round. So what are you having Mick?

'I dunno, I'm making it up as I go along.'

Volume's review of Pointless Walks...

In agricultural circles, they'd call it a grower. Prolapse's debut LP manages to blend the murky, the morose, and the mischievous in equal parts, served up with Mick Derrick's diatribes, Linda Steelyard's gorgeous singing, and some of the roughest percussion this side of Test Department. By no means for the faint of heart, Prolapse have crafted a record worth coming back to. As Mick says: 'Even our friends like it!'

Interviews - Plane Truth fanzine

By Andrew Truth, Plane Truth fanzine issue 15

Regular as clockwork, clambering up the stairs of the 32 bus comes a mane of frizzy ginger hair, as haywire as its owner whose puffed-up face creates the impression of a four year-old's body inflated into that of a middle-aged woman. Settling into her top deck, driver's chair front seat, a sedate patter of mutterings commences. This is a mere prelude to cackling, howling laughter, rigorous animated debate, defending her own position, pleading in tears. All entirely self-contained, with no aggressor present to be subjected to this tirade.

A glimpse of her instantly causes thoughts of Prolapse to spring to mind, the manner in which Mick and Linda gambol through a maze of wicked diatribes, scrambled, often incomprehensible rambling descriptions, and petty spite.

Can our insane source of public transport entertainment block out the voices stampeding resolutely through her mind? Can she engage in conversation and where does she spend the evenings? My fascination is mingled with a self-preservation instinct that allows me only to casually observe from a safe distance so I can merely speculate that she enjoys Pointless Walks to Dismal Places. Conveniently this happens to be the title of Prolapse's debut Cherry Red lp! Ironically, it's their most clearly plotted musical saunter compared with the joyous eight legs pulling in disparate directions of the Crate ep or the lightweight pop frolic with a bitter aftertaste known as Pull Thru Barker. Serpico has Mick barking, irate parent style, in a beer-soaked Glaswegian drawl: 'All your skills, all your training, and look at you - you're a bloody disgrace!' Hearing Mick deliver a bumbling 'celebrity' football report on Peel is ideal preparation for the weird combination of convoluted plot and wilful adaptation of cliche that is Surreal Madrid. In contrast, Linda's soothing, half-spoken tones eventually add weight to Burgundy Spine's bottomless depression well as she reports of a dog eating a king, horses eating people, a skeleton ringing a bell, and gallows. Tempers are fully frayed as Tina This is Matthew Stone terminates the lp as insults fly with the crockery, an infantile masterpiece.

Arriving for their Leeds gig with their van on top of a breakdown truck aptly summed up Prolapse's flawed charm. After a gig decorated by pre-Halloween pumpkins, I stumbled with Pat (guitar) and Mick (soon to release a bagpipe and mandolin collaboration) via a curry house to an interview of undisciplined, drunken hilarity, much of which is indecipherable. The babble and scurrilous gossip neatly capture Prolapse's flavour, a panoply of curious irrelevancies and human quirks. Mick regales us with tales of his purchase from a Help the Aged shop; a punk rock Jimmy Shand with a Throbbing Gristle bit at the end.

'There was an Indian drama on yesterday with big music and the guy's just saying "Do you want some milk?" Totally brilliant' Mick enthuses.

'What'll happen with your van tomorrow?' I ask.

'We'll probably get bits of string,' Mick responds.

'We left Manchester at three and got to Leeds at half past seven,' explains Pat. 'We broke down and went into a pub. The woman at this pub was into us playing. They were giving us drink. This was about half past five. We met a strange old man and two guys who did pub gigs. They were asking "what sort of music is it?" and "do you do Dirty Dancing?" She was quite risque the woman behind the bar. She was going on about these crabs that crawl up, and going back to Australia with the crabs.'

Attempting to fathom the logic that linked Barbara Windsor, Boney M's political stance and Peter Powell's 'proud to be British' comments would be futile and it inspired an anecdote from Mick.

'There was this girl staying at my house and telling me how she was in Stoke Mandeville. She'd been in a car accident. Jimmy Saville came in to visit. She was about 9 or 10 and ran after him to ask for his autograph. He said he didn't have the time. She was going "but I'm leaving tomorrow!".

Pat steals the punchline. 'And he said "well, tough!" It's like Esther Rantzen. All these people who're obviously complete, utter bastards.'

'There was Rod Hull attacking Snoop Doggy Dogg with Emu even though he knew he was up for murder but he didnae give a fuck. It's be such a rock'n'roll way for Rod Hull to go, killed by him,' rattles on Mick.

Pat recalls a story they'd been told during the recording of their first single. 'Jim Davidson was on a tour in 78 in Brighton with the Three Degrees, Krankies and Paul Daniels.'

'Paul Daniels starts making a pass at Jim Davidson's girlfriend,' elaborated Mick. 'He starts saying things like "look at the size of your tits". They all start getting pissed off so the guy with the fuzzy hair from the Krankies turned round and said, "fuck off, you wee tit" to Paul Daniels. It got so bad that Jim Davidson and the guy from the Krankies manhandles Paul Daniels out the van door on the motorway and drove off without him.

'I went into a holy bookshop because I saw a copy of Bobby Ball's biography because he's turned Christian. I looked at the photos and there's one of him with his tie down and steaming. The caption says "this is me before I was a Christian and drank."

Mick picks up the Sunday Mail to quote a hot news item. 'An Italian was rushed to hospital after he attempted to alter the shape of his nose with a pair of pliers. He said that he could not afford plastic surgery.

'I think there ought to be a tabloid fanzine. It could come out every Sunday with a full colour supplement. Photos of members of Sister George coming out of night clubs,' suggests Pat.

'When they had that NME queercore "girls kissing girls, boys kissing boys" piece, we knew half of them and half of them were heterosexual. It's all kind of crap, it defeats the purpose,' complains Mick. 'We were gonna have ladcore. Refusing to kiss guys and punching them. Big blonde women with real terrible perms.'

Meanwhile, Mick starts to display his true calling as a sleazy heading writer for the gutter press. "Mad Prolapse singer makes pass at French beauty in Stereolab". "I'll shove that Wagon Wheel down your throat," she says. The first issue, Pat could reveal all: "My life with Laetitia" and make up lies.'

At this point, they realise with alarm that the tape recorder sat innocuously on the floor has been capturing these comments about their favourite band. As Mick had displayed the temerity to ridicule my pumpkin, revenge is sweet.

Dubbing themselves as 'post-politically correct', Pat salvages a final headline salvo: "Nikki and Jo from Huggy Bear have confrontation over snorkel parka."

A letter appeared in the music press complaining about the coverage given to these sad reprobates, listing examples of their shamefully depraved behaviour during their student days.

'It was all true,' confirms Mick, 'but I've not got a clue who wrote that. I wrote a reply as a pensioner saying these guys are dead nice but they never printed it. It must have been someone who went to the same places. It was stuff like "I remember them when they were sad C86 kids and ate bits of pizza off the pavement". Basically, I ate pizza out of the gutter. Geordie Mick nicked washing off a line. It was quite strange that he wrote in. I hope he does again so he can remind me of what else we did.'

I prise further confessions of debilitatingly anti-social behaviour out of Mick.

'I stayed in the house for three days, pulled all the curtains, put the tv down to black and white, and drank loads of beer with this guy called Mike who used to be into heavy metal and whose favourite song was called Giving the Dog a Bone. We started to make these capes out of stuff from sheep and smeared them with jam, writing 666. And there was lots of broken glass.'

I have story to tell of Geordie Mick (bass) and Tim (drums) having a Christmas tree fight in the streets in February. So this is the type of activity to stimulate the nation's finest minds, garlanded with MAs in archaeology from the halls of academia.

'We didn't need to be particularly intelligent. It's not as if we have to be dead articulate, just get a few facts together and go dig a hole somewhere,' Mick modestly claims.

I ask Pat whether his digs had produced any startling discoveries. 'I've found fuck all that was really interesting but tons of artifacts, lots of silver medieval coins that I never know what happened to after being cleaned up. Medieval sandpits and Roman graves with pagan burials where they've been decapitated, the head had been cut off as part of pagan ritual.'

'It's funny how you always mention the artifacts. You forget there are dead people and they're more exciting than finding a gold coin,' contends Mick.

Any archaeologist from a future, more sophisticated civilisation unearthing a Prolapse record would doubtless be bemused by the repetitive, droning chords, surreal babble and abuse which creates a comic tension. Humour used to its full impact wields this ability to cut through human frailty with utmost precision and Prolapse use it to carve out vignettes of inner madness.

Interviews - Oscar smokes the leftovers

from Oscar smokes the leftovers issue 3 by Andrew Friendly

I got the chance to talk to Prolapse while at this year's Camden Crawl, and I was lucky to catch them as it seemed there were another half dozen zines as well as MTV (!) wanting a chat. I spoke to guitarist Dave, drummer Tim and Linda, their vocalist. Their other guitarist, Pat, was totally ill and didn't play,while vocalist Mick was hitchhiking, yes hitchhiking, down to the gig after some trouble with the van. Don't ask. I didn't...

They'd been in the US, so I asked them how that had gone.

Linda: We've been to America three times this year, so we've been trying to keep things going. We're between deals just now and we haven't got any money and we're wanting to record, we're just wanting to decide what to do next and it's taking longer than we thought. We had a good time in America though. We played with the Wedding Present, we went to California with Stereolab. It was really good.

Tim: We played in Boston and there were loads of people shouting out for songs from the first album, which hasn't been released out there which was wonderful. There were more people turning up there than there usually is in Leicester, which is where we're from. That was surprising.

You put a lot of effort into your live shows, is it important you engage the audience like that?

Linda: From a frontperson's point of view it's very difficult to play a gig when nobody's paying attention. But saying that we don't play gigs where we're getting ignored, probably because it's so loud.

Tim: I like the physicalness of doing a gig. It's like fighting with the drumkit.

I saw something recently about a Spanish dancer who lost three pounds of weight every time he performed. Do you lose any weight playing?

Tim: Oh God, it all goes back on again afterwards with kebabs and stuff, really crap food.

Dave: Our first gig in New York was really hot. We played this gallery and it wasn't very well ventilated. There was only one big fan and everyone kept on walking out. It was ridiculous. They came in to see what was going on, but a lot of people said Sorry, we just couldn't stay, it was too hot.

Does the 'New Pop Underground' frighten you as much as it frightens me?

Dave: It's a frightening name.

Tim: I mean, for me, I'm getting on a bit now...

Linda: He's got two kids, he's a proper grown-up.

Dave: I honestly think we're not like most of the other bands that's part of 'it'. We'd done so much before we formed the band so it's a bit difficult for us to go Yeah! We're a part of the pop underground!

Linda: Pop's not a word we can associate with really, but people have some funny interpretations of the music you know, like one person's pop is another person's er... er...

Dave: Sore funk.

Linda: I was thinking more like someone else's Brillo Pad rubbing on a table, you know?

Dave: I remember once Mick our vocalist was heckling Bis from the crowd and they said Don't mind him, he's our Dad.

I saw your video for Doorstop Rhythmic Bloc the other day and I thought it was really smart. How do you feel about doing videos?

Dave: Well we've just done one in New York, and it fucked me off completely. So depressing.

Tim: I came around to it by the end but at the start... I mean, it was the full production things, dollies set up and all that. I just remember sitting on the back of this truck thing, zooming around all these skyscrapers and I couldn't believe how depressed I was.

Dave: There's this really funny bit that I couldn't believe they used. It's this bit where I'm just miming along going (sighs through his lips, making a sort of propeller sound) and they used it! And that's what I felt like, like This is supid. Always thought it was something I would never do and now, two years later...
Tim: We had a stylist.

Linda: Called Raffey.

Tim: And he came up to our flat, and it was one of the most worrying moments of my life because he was checking out to see if we had any stylist clothes to wear, and I was just sitting there, dreading it. It was like being back at school again... like Oh no, there's a stylist going through my wardrobe.

Linda: You can look back on it now and laugh but at the time it was a nightmare.

And then they say they're not a pop band. I don't know. Prolapse, the band that want their cake and eat it too.

Interviews - atomic fanzine

Linda is not a happy camper. This interview has been put back so many times that I'd begun to lose faith. You see, Linda has wisdom tooth problems and needs a lot of rest. Mercifully she is able to drag herself from her sick bed to talk. Anyone listening to Prolapse's music would have to be excused if they came away a nervous wreck, for their sound is the sort of thing that makes you toss and turn in your bed, a wonderfully monotonous drone, with Linda and her rival Mick vying for shouting space. Linda explains some of the key points as to why many people find their music disturbing.

'Obviously there's Tina this is Matthew Stone. I can't actually listen to it because it reminds me of things I don't really want to remember. It's difficult to say, because there might be people who live very happy lives who can't identify with the song.'

Tina this is Matthew Stone, I should point out, is the last song on Pointless Walks, a sprawling epic of a song which near the end degenerates into a scene of domestic violence between Mick and Linda. She continues, 'They might have been through a really bad relationship split up, so that I think that they can relate to it, and therefore I think that potentially our music is quite disturbing,' she says almost with relish. Linda then goes on to tell me exactly who Matthew Stone is. Apparently he's a character from a 1970s William Shatner film that so enthralled Linda that she fell asleep half way through. On thing that won't make you fall asleep is the vocal attack of Linda and Mick. Like two fighting school kids they spit out their words on to the hapless listener. You've never quite heard anything like it before.

'When Prolapse started I wasn't in the band,' she admits. 'Mick always improvised his vocals on stage, which he still does from books and just makes things up. Prolapse have always been a bit odd and I've got a friend who's my height and looks a little bit like me. Someone came up with the idea that we should stand up on stage like the Brady twins in The Shining and just stand there throughout the gig and psyche out the audience.'

Things get curiouser.

'It came to the night of the gig and my friend didn't turn up, so I got up on stage anyway and improvised vocals as well as Mick. It got such good feedback that everyone said I should come back next time. So I did it again and again and eventually I stayed.

And it is, without doubt, that Prolapse are better for Linda's sardonic screams, but surely all of your lyrics can't be planned.

'We try to keep everything really fresh. When you start recording stuff you go over it so much that when you record that song it puts you in a certain mood, and that mood seems to trigger the same word, so as we perform songs more and more the words tend to stick. Psychotic Now has got its own set of words that people can sing along to and it's really nice to look out in the audience and see people singing along to your songs.'

It's hard to say where Prolapse fit in. A punk Chumbawamba maybe, but then again maybe not. Listening to too much of Prolapse's material you can't help but be attracted to the insistent nature in which they play. So, I give you The Fall...

'Everybody in the band apart from myself and Geordie Mick the bass player are manic Fall fans and have got loads of records by them. Every influence within the band maps on to a few, but not all of the members in the band, and I think that's why the sound is quite hard to pin down.'

For the uninitiated Prolapse are a scary prospect and their gigs are downright surreal. But you can't fail to love a band who put on a good show and Prolapse certainly do that. 'People go to a gig and the band stand on stage, play their music and you check out the singer and the rest of the band to see if there's anyone you fancy and you look around the room a bit and it's all a bit dull,' says Linda without pausing for breath. 'I always have loads of energy on stage and Mick always has loads of energy, so use that energy don't waste it,' says Mrs Motivator. Linda goes on to tell about her and Mick's relationship and that Prolapse wouldn't be what it is without it being 'quite colourful' and also compliments me on my northern accent, which is a first. But then Prolapse are the first band in a long time to come along and present something truly original, so I suppose being leaders of the pack is nothing new to them.

- from atomic vol 1:K

Interviews - Bobbins fanzine

from Bobbins fanzine, issue 8

Like the happy family from hell, or rather Kaos, Prolapse are a six piece in a whole combination of comedy double acts. As I didn't know anything about them I thought it a perfect opportunity to find out more when they played the Roadhouse. Oh joy! I am fed chips and share cough sweets. Prolapse aren't at all scary and make me feel at home.

'Prolapse is our band.' 'We started it, just me and you. We are the most integral members of the whole thing.' Say Mick and Pat. 'I'm the important one,' interrupts Linda, all bright eyes and good haircut. There's Mick, a 6ft Scots who sings, Pat and Dave (guitars), Mick Harrison (bass), Linda who also sings and Tim (drums). Originally a four piece from the start in 1991 they've released some singles: Crate ep, Pull Thru Barker, Doorstop Rhythmic Bloc and the album Pointless Walks to Dismal Places. Which is great. Touring with the album has received a mixed reaction. 'Shite.' 'No, it's all right.' 'Absolutely amazing.' 'It goes up and down.' 'It's sold out every gig.' 'Except the other five.' 'We've only done five dates.' On the whole a better reception comes from London 'because there's just more people there' Linda says, with the audience fluctuating elsewhere.

'We played Folkestone and it was pretty empty apart from a lot of metal heads which was brilliant.' 'Tell her about the total maddy story'. Prolapse audiences seem to have their unfair share of mental types in attendance.

'This man came in, he had about six potatoes and we had to sign each potato in a different colour. And he wanted to be reincarnated as a patch of lichen.' It was his first gig since the Sugarcubes, about five years ago.' 'He also said 10 year olds should be shown snuff movies to scare them away from killing and that kind of thing.' 'Which I agree with.' 'We asked him what he does for a living and he said he was between lives.'

Your live shows are described as avant garde. But with six of you onstage how do you all fit? Linda: 'To be honest I get frustrated. I've got four square inches to move in. I've been kicked by Pat and elbowed by Mick.' 'And what happens is all the instrumentalists jump up and down? 'I keep pulling out Dave's leads while he's doing a really important bit. Then it'll all stop.' 'Yeah but it's on purpose.' And when Mick and Linda fight on stage: 'It hurts. He's going Aaargh (pulls hair) and I'm going Eeeg (animates pained expression) and he's doing the same to me. But you can't tell.'

Is the album doing as well as you want?

'It's a bit odd cause the amount of press doesn't tally with what it's doing in the indie charts. HMV picked us out , and we had this massive thing in MM.' 'That's because it's crap.' 'When I heard it I thought... it's too well produced.'

Mick and Pat, those integral band members, decide to split from the band and go their own way under the title Rusty Grifter. 'Rusty Grifter' Mick speaks into my dictaphone.

Who thought of the album title? Mick: 'That was me.' Linda: 'No. I said dismal. It wouldn't be what it was if I didn't say dismal.' 'OK, we've go 50-50. That happened in Glasgow. I was trying really quickly to show them somewhere nice so I took them on this crap walk and we just ended up in the middle of Glasgow and it was really boring and putting us off... the dismal places... the bland places... '

You changed production for the latest releases. Steve Mack produced this album, but you've also worked with John Robb. 'It worked really well with John Robb. On the last ep there was this track which was completely improvised.' 'John was walking round with a mic behind the radiator to get an ambient sound. I'd have loved to do the album half and half, a kind of mixture. ' 'But it's a very different way of working. John Robb is very much laid back , but Steve Mack was more "go in and do it again".' But we haven't cleaned it up too much .It would be stupid if we sounded like Genesis on record, then Huggy Bear live.'

Influences? '1-2-3 Stereolab.' 'People used to say The Fall which is fair enough, most of us in the band like The Fall. But you only have to play something repetitive and people'll say The Fall.' 'But people used to say Huggy Bear a lot but we're not really.' 'We're not as makeshift. we've no got the same politics.' 'Not in any way whatsoever.' 'In the MM Everett True said we'd stopped listening to Huggy Bear and started listening to Stereolab too much. But a) we haven't been listening to HB and b) we've always listened to other bands and perhaps not even as much as... well personally I've been listening to the sources of Stereolab, the German noise sort of bands. People just pick on things for an easy point of reference.'

'I like Linus.' 'There's not many new bands around I like. Spoonfed Hybrid.' 'Long Fin Killie, and lots of the Too Pure stuff, Laika. Gorky's Zygotic Mynci.' Bringing in the subject of regional accents, very obvious in Prolapse's music. Mick: 'I like that. There should be more of them.' Linda: 'You've got to let your own accent come through because it's an important part of yourself.' Has anyone wondered about Sonia, her from Liverpool. Her accent is so strong, but where she sings, an amazing transformation happens. Sonia can be understood. 'She's a complete pain in the arse. And bands like Teenage Fanclub, cause they're Scottish but they sound like Americans almost. I don't know how they do it and keep a straight face.' 'I think the regional accent thing is great, like Oasis from Manchester but I can't listen to things like Blur or Carter, it does my head in. I'd prefer if they sang in a northern accent.' 'But that's just regional bias.' 'I know it is, but I still can't stand Carter.' 'But The Jam sang in a London accent.' 'Yeah, OK.' And that, is more or less, that.

Live, Prolapse give an energetic, exhaustive, mesmerising show, one of the best I've seen in a while. Mick jumps on and off stage, Linda struts and snarls, they occasionally wrestle each other to the ground. Things sound on the verge of collapse... but not quite. If this band play your town go and see them.