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.

Ghosts Of Dead Aeroplanes

"Imagine playing aeroplane Top Trumps in hell. If you ever ended up doing it, the music that'd be playing in the background would be Ghosts Of Dead Aeroplanes by Prolapse. And it would scare the fuck, living or dead, out of you.

It does not, by simple law of audio extremes, get any more freaky than the opening track, Essence Of Cessna. The low, thrumming rhythm of the modest backing music plays host to the occasional electricity noise and, more importantly, Linda's vocals. Or is it Linda? It sounds rather more like a six-year old girl who's just battered her parents to death with a claw-hammer and is now in a semi-comatose state of sheer shock and generic fucked-upness whilst subconsciously mumbling her utterly, utterly insane stream of thought.

Fair enough, Mick's vocals do feature earlier on in the track, quiet and distorted, but I don't even know when they cut out, because it's impossible to hear anything in this song aside from the completely terrifying girl's voice. There is a pleasant warmth to the background 'aaaaahhh's and the occasional emphasised bassline, but you have to listen very badly indeed not to be chilled to the bone by the unstructured, atmospheric, surreal freakiness of the thing. As an opening track, it is a long way from the obvious choice. It could scarcely be closer, though, to perfection.

By way of slapping you about a bit and delivering quite precisely what you don't expect, Fob.com, the racingly harmonious and upbeat single, follows. Linda's oscillating vocal tone rides like some entirely mad but beautiful jet-ski over the pulsating wave of the music as Mick spouts his slightly whining Glaswegian in a manner not in the least bit similar to but easily as threatening as a Great White cruising beneath. The immaculate rhythm, pace and rhyming pattern to the track keep it hurtling along at a rate of knots and exemplify perfectly the sheer poetic genius Prolapse have been gradually honing all these years.

Adiabatic follows - a wavering and haunting but strangely shallow and unfulfilling melody laid down by Linda over Mick's initially uninteresting echoey vocals beneath. It is not until the chorus that you realise both these latter were nothing more than atmosphere building elements to the glorious, powerful bursts of streaming guitar, muted but shouted rage from Mick and an eerie chorus from Linda. And it's not until several days' intensive listening have passed that you fully come to terms with the idea.

By far the most abrasive of the album comes next - Cylinders V12 Beats Cylinders 8. In common with Surreal Madrid from their first album, it features a simple Mickalogue concerning someone he really doesn't like at all. Suffice to say, with regards to the lyrical content, that the chorus is no less than "He wis a septic tank ae a man." The tale appears to be about a keycutter who gets it a bit wrong once, and hence is a completely worthless bastard. Cruel, but fair as a petrified witness of the activities of the Piranha brothers would one day confide. It's hard not to feel similarly.

There is a notion in my head regarding One Illness, the next track, that I have been trying, without success, to dispel for some time. It goes along the lines of this song being quite simply the best I have heard in my life. It fades in with a wonderfully throbbing Stereolabish guitar effect leading into a tripping bassline, a harmonious 'aaaaaaaahhhh' and finally a quick succession of drum beats merges into the siren-like pulse of the main riff. But what makes the song one superior to every other I've heard is undoubtedly the vocals. It has, by some strange musical publications, been accused of pop. Perhaps the initial relative jauntiness of the sound is responsible, but by halfway this is entirely evaporated. Linda's rolling poetry races with perfect rhyme still, but Mick is reduced in parallel to shouts and screams, still with immaculate timing, but entirely free of the burdens of melody. It starts superbly and keeps on getting better for five and a half minutes.

After After is an unprecedented venture for the band. Linda's vocals have been recorded as little over a whisper and amplified massively to normal voice level. The closeness and intimacy of the sound is reminiscent of Portishead, if rather more full-bodied and rhythmic. More unusual still is Mick's vocal effect. It is distorted and echoed almost beyond recognition, and as he speaks it plummets and soars in bizarre waveforms of deep, metallic tone. It is offset perfectly by what is almost its polar opposite in Linda's vocals and creates an enthralling aural experience that holds a ceaseless fascination for any sane mind.

A call back to The Italian Flag follows in the form of The Government Of Spain. While the structure and vocal arrangement owes much to Visa For Violet And Van, the actual sound of the song is in fact far closer to Headless In A Beat Motel from the first album. The song crackles into life with Linda, as though over an intercom, chanting "Be told, retell." Her vocals from there express concern about a death on a runway and Mick's vocals burst in just before the guitars stream up to a frantic hammering that accompanies his rapid and glorious build up to the chorus: "The government of Spain is all evil!"

By the time Linda has got on to utterances about stinking hell on earth and misery, Mick's chorus has shot off into a desperate screech and rocketed by a few more octaves than one could reasonably expect the human vocal cords to cover. The song finally fades into Linda's crackly chanting and disappears. In an album consisting almost entirely of new and wildly successful experiments in sound, Government stands as a solitary monument to their previous sounds and in doing so, somehow manages to top the lot of them.

Sadly, the last nine minutes of this miserably short bundle of joy are significantly less enjoyable. Planned Obsolescence, my theory goes, is some sort of portrayal of the eloping ritual leading in and out of marriage. Since the only lyrics are "I love you", "Ah own yer" and "Ah foond yer." it's difficult to say exactly, but the point is that the music is nothing very special. It's all very nice in its atmospheric way and its whispering subtlety has a certain charm, but it simply doesn't appeal to me the way the rest of the recording does. Which is an unfortunate end to an album that otherwise quite simply tops the efforts of everyone and anyone, themselves included, who have come before.

It makes you wonder why the rest of the music world bothers, really."

Reviewed by: Tom Francis


"Must've seen this band at least a dozen times and walked away each time not discombobulated by their raucous scrabbling, not annoyed by their scatter-gun noise terrorism - always there to see someone anyhow - but just plain I-don't-get-it.

Their ramshackle records have always left me catching fish; damned if I can see what's special about Prolapse. All that eviscerating the corpse of rock, feeding off the carcass and spitting out the remains is for hardcore Peelie listeners. And so it is with Prolapse's fourth album; avant garde, left-field and off-centre. But, and this time there's some tunes and there's some direction. They've returned to the sweeter sound of 1997's "Autocade" single, a one-off song so pop for them that singer Mick Derrick hated and refused to appear in the video.

"Fob.com" is Stereolab for the jilted generation: mesmerising, driving and, controversially, tuneful. "One Illness" sets up camp in the same field of hypnotic guitars and Krautrock drumming, with Linda Steelyard's warm drone complemented by Derrick's manic ranting.

Despite the greater pop sensibility shown on this outing, little has changed in the area of actually making any bloody sense. Derrick's ranting is issued from the fire-and-brimstone pulpit and is not always comprehensible. When the words do spill out in a recognisable form they're rarely better that way - "Accosted by angles at an early age and made to take the same head as the venerable sage". OK.

Don't get me wrong, difficult music is always welcome, always encouraged; rarely is it useful or groundbreaking. Prolapse are a difficult band, awkward, edgy and agitated. This is about as close to making a classic album they'll get. Perversely, it succeeds when they sound like Stereolab and it fails when they sound too much like Prolapse the difficult band."

- Ben Clancy, Melody Maker

"Track 7. "Government of Spain." Jesus Christ.

It starts with a second of electric fuzz, two words and an ultraviolent bassline that doesn't stop winding itself up and twining itself tight for the remainder of the song. Female vocalist Linda Steelyard starts listingrandom, random things in an emotionless, hard-edged voice. The drums kick in. The guitars drop down and spark all the was to the finale- hard, hard explosive guitars clanking and swooping and smashing concrete - then into the eye of the hurricane Mick Derrick screams his entry like a fucking demon and proceeds to lose his mind and tries to take yours with the angriest, nastiest, hottest rant since Mark E Smith first pissed vinegar. By the final blow-up/self-destruction of the song Derrick is wailing and shrieking in a mean and forced falsetto that "the Government of Spain is all evil!" like the future depends on you knowing this information. This is the sound and the fury of Prolapse, this is extreme conspiracy theory art-rock from one of Britian's most underappreciated bands, this is the most necessary piece of fucking music to come out this year.

Prolapse make music that snaps at your heels when you leave the room. The underbelly of blinkered British thug culture precisely assaulted with obtuse poetry, channeled chaos and strawberry-blond sex thrown in to confuse and entice. They've always been this way: 1996's Backsaturday was the sound of a hot summer snapping, last year's The Italian Flag was a magnificent hate letter, and now, album number four, Ghosts of Dead Aeroplanes, is the demented surrealism of two aesthetically opposite individuals spilling over one more time.

The trippy "Essence" swirls around a thudding bassline with talk of angels and summer dresses, straight-down the line rocker "Fob.com" lets Steelyard jet beautifully into rapid-fire melody while Derrick pins the music down with his harsh speaking voice, and the Mogwai-ish "Cylinders V12" takes Prolapse to new heights of power and noisy elegance. A horrible, gorgeous album."

- From The Rocket, a Seattle free music magazine, review by Michael Hukin.


"A good album is one whose velocity you can't control. As in a schoolyeard game of crack the whip, you are compelled to move at the speed the leader chooses. And if you've got the courage to hang on to this one, you're in for some excellent kicks from Prolapse. When the band veers from the twisted guitar/dub of their large scale opener "Essence" to the mach-one fever of "Fob.com" the acceleration seems like a natural pull. Even in the placid numbers, the gait of Ghost of Dead Aeroplanes is expertly planned out and executed.

Leicester, England's Prolapse is a well-regarded guitar band that has never seemed to be able to decide whether to be noise or to be pop. That uncertainty, along with the curiously mismatched vocals of Linda Steelyard and Mick Derrick, make for a reputation built upn disparate intrigues. Taking a more polished approach to its third album, Prolapse has found that you can sometimes get a more messed up vibe by straining things off. The noise that somewhat clung to the group's earlier music is now cleared away. Heavy and Cyclic, the bass and drum foundations loop around nervous, twitchy guitars. Steelyard's girlish voice bleats softly while Derrick's spoken interludes are delivered in a rakish brogue. Prolapse manages to rope all these elements of post-punk aestheticism into a focused musical opportunity. It's a ride worth hanging on for.

File under- Boy/girl noise dub. Recommended if you like Unwound, Sonic Youth, Gang of Four."

- From CMJ New Music Monthly, June 1999

"If post-rock noodling ain't your bag, baby, but you need a little bit of trippy soundtracky stuff in your life, try the fourth from Leicester's Prolapse. Rhythmic, relentless and eerie, Ghosts of Dead Aeroplanes (Cooking Vinyl) sounds like a radio picking up a myriad of late-night stations, as kingpin (and daytime archaeologist) Mick Derrick intones rambling monologues against the cascading, folky vocals of Linda Steelyard."

- Pat Gilbert, Mojo

The Italian Flag - reviews

"Prolapse are a band of people that would appear to be of the emotionally fiery and panic-stricken variety. Witness the evidence (whether fathomable or not): on stage they deliver an intense cacophony of noisy emotions - an outburst of their tentative lives put to music by way of sonik moogs and even more sonic guitar. 'I know I need my head examined' / 'He will never understand me' sings Linda. The punkoid chugging of Slash/Oblique takes up the story as twin vocalists Linda and Mick point their case: 'I feel you move away from me, you don't respond to anything' chants Linda -'they'll always be your enemy' / 'The things you do will never come back to you' spits Mick. On Deanshanger they're singing cross-purposes, unaware of each other's presence (as on stage at times). Mick 'the 80s were crap...' Linda 'my legs are strapped to the floor...' Meanwhile, their bursting from Fall melodies into Stereolab choruses. Nutty to say the least, yet so entertaining. Cacophony No. A and I Hate the Clicking Man, which run alongside the singles Killing the Bland and Autocade, come out as more superior than the prelude tasters. Autocade, although gliding fine, is just old skool indie at the end of the day. Whereas the tantalising dfarkness of I Hate the Clicking Man would have been a more sensational invitation to this album. It is bursting ith life with its roasted guitars and space age Lab grooves. Then A Day at Death Disco (sic) presents an Elastica-like feel, accompanied by a pent-up, tetchy and bewildered Linda. Bruxelles follows, floating in as soothing relief. Gentle as it is, it sounds strangely intimate; as Mick and Linda speak random single words one after another over a dream-like soundtrack. Strange concept indeed, but would anyone else find reason to do similar - and make it sound so perfect. Flat Velocity Curve, with its floating fragility and fiery rages, has all the ambience of a tense operating surgeon with a patient in near death experience. Spacey moogs vs riproaring bursts of guitar. Visa for Violet and Van acts as the final blowout of a life less ordinary - or not (?); that is bar the very final closing - the medieval chant psychedelia of Three Wooden Heads. As Mick confirms at the close of Flat Velocity Curve: 'Zurich is stained' and surely it means somrhthing to him. The strange little spinning worlds of Prolapse are indeed by most accounts unfathomable. Prolapse then. Dizzy, dazed and delightful. A band that will hopefully never be fathomable and all the better for it."

- Duncan Illing, Planet of Sound


"Their most accomplished release to date paints an angry portrait of urban and psychological isolation. Biting self-doubt and wry cynicism are expressed in a cyclical, spiralling frenzy of guitar, shouting and bagpipes! The thick Scottish brogue of MICK DERRICK and the whimsical musings of LINDA STEELYARD form layers of dual-channel vocals, more often chanted than sung. For fans of TH' FAITH HEALERS, FLAMING LIPS and STEREOLAB."

- John Woosley, 'Quaker' website


"The phone rings and I'm sitting at my desk staring at my computer. Some English or Australian accent is on the other line asking me did I get the Prolapse CD he sent me, and had I had a chance to listen to it. I vaguely remember a promo CD with a "P" on it, but you have to really see my desk to believe the mess. I promised the accent that I would find the CD and give it a listen ASAP.

One month later, the accent calls back. Had I listened to his CD yet? No. I scramble to get out my lame excuse about how I've been really busy but, and I'm so unorganized bla bla bla, but I will indeed listen to the CD just as soon as I can dig it up. So here I am.

Y'know what? I like it. Prolapse has a really big, swirling sound with lots of weird panning vocals. Mick Derrick and Linda Steelyard's vocals remind me of Johnny Rotten and Allison Statton from her Young Marble Giants period. I especially like "Cacophony No.a" and "I Hate the Clicking Man". If I had to put the CD in a pigeonhole, I'd say that it's kind of a combination between Sonic Youth circa Sister and Stereolab. I bet this is a good CD to do Xtacy to -- not that I encourage that kind of behavior."

- minxmag



"Despite a name that might suggest death metal, or at least earwax-churning improv
jazz, Prolapse make pure indie for pop people. 'Pure indie', in that this is none of your indie-dance nonsense, none of your indie-grunge noise, and most certainly none of your major-label-posing-as-indie-music heading for the top of the charts. This is the kind of indie music that used to regularly bellow from your radio when you were listening to John Peel about 15 years ago.

From floaty female vocals which echo the likes of Girls At Our Best, to shouty bloke vocals that sound like someone round here never quite got over 1976, to the juddering guitar-based rock, this is indie music that wouldn't dream of ditching the cardigans and silly titles for something more compromisingly slick.

That hasn't stopped the outfit's latest album, The Italian Flag (Radar) from garnering a whole bunch of rave reviews, probably because the music press are just old-fashioned indie boys and girls at heart, no matter what the label says on their trainers. A night for like-minded nostalgists."

- Laura Lee Davies, Time out

"Prolapse railed with incisive wit and (slash/)oblique political insight, with loaded menace against those who are obsessed with the rain, state of the youth, shifting the blame in late-twentieth century british culture." [more... from Head Heritage]

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.

Chez Lester interview

Chez Lester was a comedy soap opera with music, broadcast on Leicester's Cable 7 community TV channel between 1994 and 1996. Cast members included Linda, who played Agatha Spent and Mick as Spring-Heeled Jack, as well as members of local bands POI and SuperEight. A Chez Lester zine featured these interviews:

Q: Firstly, Linda, how would you describe the character, Agatha Spent?
Linda: Agatha is strong-minded but can easily be taken in by people because she's a sucker for a good plan or idea. She keeps herself to herself and isn't in the habit of having heart to hearts.
Q: Do you like playing the role?
Linda: Yes, I do like playing the role.
Q: What are your favourite Chez Lester moments, involving yourself and involving others?
Linda: My favourite moment is when Ruth's Agatha lets the cat out of the bag to Agatha's sister.
(This is in episode 14 when Bridget - played by Ruth Miller - is pretending to be Agatha, whilst keeping her hostage in the shed. Agatha's sister, Alex - played here by Linda - pays a visit and suspects nothing until Bridget's wig falls off.) My favourite bit without me is Jack and Singer's bath cleaning.
Q: How would you like Agatha to develop?
Linda: In future episodes I'd like Agatha to fall in love, to hatch a revenge plot and to discover a passion for Ritz crackers.
Q: Would you be happy to spend the rest of your life acting in a soap opera, a la William Roache (Ken Barlow)?
Linda: No I wouldn't be happy. I'd be very, very bored.
Q: Which soap operas do you watch?
Linda: Coronation Street, Brookside, Neighbours (but not religiously), and if I really haven't got anything better to do I'll watch EastEnders.

Michael Derrick on soaps...

"I sometimes watch soaps when I get back from work and I'm just sitting around. The only real soap I enjoy watching, except Coronation Street which I like cause I visited the set, is Shortland Street. The only soap character I could compare to Spring-Heeled Jack is the wee guy out of Shortland Street with specs, who's always seasick. (Shortland Street is just Chez Lester except the budget is £20 more and it's serious.)

Take the High Road, which is set on the west coast of Scotland, is dead boring, like Emmerdale. My most hated soap is The Archers. When we're at work and we switch from Virgin, if I hear the Archers theme tune it makes me physically sick. I cannae stand EastEnders, except for Gillian Taylforth cause she gave a blow job on the motorway and she was in On Safari. Soaps are dead boring!"

'Mick Derrick is a member of Prolapse and the wonderful Cha Cha 2000. He is an actor, an archaeologist and wine connoisseur.'

Chez Lester on MySpace

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

Lyrics

"Mick Derrick's strange and wonderful world of inner self strangulation (in Glasgee font)"

* Serpico
* Headless in a Beat Motel
* Surreal Madrid
* Doorstop Rhythmic Bloc
* Burgundy Spine
* Black Death Ambulance


SERPICO

They trickle it doon and wi sup it aw up
This mug wullny take it, am full tae the brim ye see
Ah counter ma ailin' position with brains
If that disnae stope then back tae the wife n' weans
These guys are aw lousy wi other guy's fleas
The circle is growin' wi relative ease yi know
There's only wan thing that's left for tae dae
Dissect an bisect it an' separate the strays

Ah'll clean up the precinct wae gall n' wae verve
It's thame that's the wankers
They'll get what they deserve
You keep yer eyes open an' don't let them stray
Come hell or high water this dog 'll have its day

Ah'll clean up the precinct, ah'll craze it wi cracks
The wae that wur goin there's nae lookin' back yill sae
Ah'll tread on the toes that hide in the boots
These cunts are all cosy inside their new suits yi know

Ah'll carry out everythin' expected ae me
But ah cannae very well turn a blind eye tae it
If you are the cause ae whit ah hive tae be
Then at least come oot an admit that your part ae it
At least come oot an admit your part ae it

Excuse me sergeant ah've somethin' to say
There's a lot of people doon there
They're no doin' it the right way
Wi give them backhanders
They release yi oon loot
And thats aw this dae yi know
"OK, give me their names, give me their names
And ah'll get them right now"

"Well ye've got Healy, ye've got Brenderson
Ye've got Henderson an' McFarlane"

Get out of my office...
What do ye take me for?
Get out of my office...
It only takes one little person like you
To ruin an establishment such as this
We don't need men of your calibre around here
Out!

Ah'll clean up the precinct wae gall n' wae verve
It's thame that's the wankers
They'll get what they deserve
You keep yer eyes open an' don't let them stray
Come hell or high water this dog 'll have its day

(freeform rant)

If I ever see you again... Just keep from under my feet OK
... Ye've got aw ye're trainin' an' aw ye're schools
... An look at yi, ye're a bloody disgrace!



HEADLESS IN A BEAT MOTEL

Ah wiz little choosie Suzy in a wan horse race
Ah wiz comin' up behind ye... keepin' up the pace
Eatin' up the corners and cruisin' roon the bends
Tearin' up the tarmac... careerin' roon' again

And ah always end up Heidless in a Beat Motel...

Ah wiz beatin' up the backboard freewheelin' down the track
Ah wiz flyin' roon the inside... Ah wiz never comin' back
Ah wiz pickin' up the pace that somedi had left behind
Ah wiz crashin' through the barriers... and slashin' at time

And ah always end up Heidless in a Beat Motel...

Ah wiz stormin' oot the pitstops at a hundred miles an 'oor
And ah never checked the cogs or wheels or anythin' at all
Ah wiz wanderin' up the freeway... and ah never knew when ah
Should check ma bloody pit-speed... ah never went that far

Ah took a right turn... took a left turn... tried to get by
Ah took a right turn... took a left turn... tried to get by
Ah wiz never really happy wae ma last approach

And ah always end up Heidless in a Beat Motel...

Ah wiz carryin' the can for every other guy's mistakes
Ah wiz boxin in the bastards at alarmin' rates
But ah never thought ae checkin' where a wiz that day
Ah'd fucked up completely and ah never really know
That the guy was comin' back at me alarmin'ly slow

And ah always end up Heidless in a Beat Motel...

Ah wiz tryin' tae make it better than ah'd ever did before
Ah wiz up against the clock... and ah could never be sure
That ah wiz gonna be up there... wae the rest of the field
Ah wuz tryin' tae make it... like am oan the line

(rant)

And ah always end up Heidless in a Beat Motel.



SURREAL MADRID

Backroom banditos, crucifixion put aff for the next 10
minutes. Jesus Gil emerges from the boardroom, visibly
broken, sweat pouring down his face, or so you think...

Athletico must conquer the mighty Real's stranglehold
Athletico must be ready to take over the mantle

Jesus Gil once said of his supporters: "They're a bunch of
layabouts from the lower classes. A member who doesn't
have a drug addict in the family, will probably have a
prostitute."

Still regaining 60% of support from the supporter. Jesus Gil.
Jesus Gil, scored the highest rankings from the highest
meddling and bankings. Underhanded operations were his
forte. Overhead wans tae.

He never hit the crossbar, he never hit the posts, straight in
the goal. The Bank of Spain is cancer.

"GOAL"
... to Jesus Gil.

The Bank of Spain - cancer.

He was the guy that put the supporter behind him and had
the supporters with him all the way. Horrible, sweaty, size-
mobile.
Gargantuan guy that naebody liked. Athletico must get ahead
of Real.
Jesus Gil.

Killed a lot of restaurant owners, built the place himself, did
the architecture, didnae tell anybody. 68 killed, 5 years,
£2,000,000 fined.

"GOAL"

A pistol at the head of the echelons of fitba', Espana. It
cannae be a bad thing it can only be wan ae tha things that
makes for good fitba'.
Jesus Gil.

(rant)

Jesus Gil
Jesus Gil
Corporate smoothie wae a record as long as his arm

... "GOAL"



DOORSTOP RHYTHMIC BLOC (Mick's part only)

All aboard the Ark Royal
Take a trip passed
The Pyramids of Giza

Fannin' out the Danube Delta,
The Bering Straits,
The manmade mountainous monstrosities
We have created for ourselves

The ladies skirts up to their thighs
The make-up, the rouge...
The hair down to their arms

The Pyramids of Giza.

The beaches of Gallipoli
Where A.N.Z.A.C.S. died
Where men were turned to meat
They never had a chance down there

The Pyramids of Giza.

Riding across bareback horse
Across the Steppes...
The freedom... the exhilaration
The railways... the canals
That linked everywhere
They wurny worth the money
Or the men lost (and wummin in brackets)

Too many people died... in too many projects
The canals... the trains
They never meant that much tae me anyway

The Pyramids of Giza.

All aboard the Ark Royal
Take a trip passed The Pyramids of Giza
Searching for obscurities... for us to see
The men behind they do not

The Bering Straits... the Panama Canal
The Danube Delta... fly to Riga
The ports of Kronstadt

The Pyramids of Giza.

We lost wur life... when we lost wur courage
The courage tae fight, ya know whit am saying
The courage to fight
The Danube Delta, the beaches of Gallipoli
Waste of a life

Ride horseback over the Steppes.

All aboard!



BURGUNDY SPINE (Mick's part only)

Inspired by boredom:
One of the most underrated emotions.
Sitting with my hands held above a typewriter...
Suspended animation.
Ma brain contained inside the shell is
Nothing but nothing stirring.
The cobwebs attach my head to my hands
Which in turn are attached to the keys.
Looking out from ma eyes 3cm is as far as I can see
Looking at the paper brought up to meet the sight
Bleached white nothingness

Suddenly a complete unadulterated feeling of
intense...ness.
Personal feelings never come into boredom.
The eyes are attached to the finger,
Are attached to anything within easy reach.
The actions of the body are nil to the brain.
The numbness inside is not exactly felt
But perceived as being an action which will lead to nil.
The cobwebs in my head take the form of cobwebs you
will see anywhere
Except they're tighter and more deadly

Eyes no longer see
Hands no longer feel
Ears no longer hear
And taste limited to a few munchings of a few sharp
tastes



BLACK DEATH AMBULANCE (Linda's part only!)

Featureless
Enemy
Lucifer
Skin the lampshade
Head a paperweight

Miracle
Valuable
Striptease
Done it again
Poke and stare
Nothing there

My scars are your scars

Valuable
Miracle
Million filaments
Dying is art
My enemy, do I terrify?
Million filaments
My enemy, do I terrify?

My scars are your scars

Wedding ring
Piece of soap
Gold teeth
Dying is art

Band members

Mick Derrick: vocals
Linda Steelyard: vocals
Mick Harrison: bass
David Jeffreys: guitar
Pat Marsden: guitar
Tim Pattison: drums
Donald Ross Skinner: keyboards