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Rating:
No need to remind everyone who Mark E. Smith is or reiterate what (his) Fall have represented within the less mainstream, bastard, and hybrid rock since the second half of the '70s.
What matters is that the frenzied, disjointed, and unintelligible growl of our man continues to be an integral part of the resoluteness and compositional clarity of these neurotic and wonky, yet coherent, nine fragments.
The mix between post-punk concrete ("Y.F.O.C./Slippy Floor") and sandpaper-like countr'n'western ("Cowboy George") allows this latest and for now final, 28th studio work(!) released in the middle of last year, to be placed on a sufficiently elevated step (or ground level, you be the judge) in the thirty-five-year, troubled & fractured career of the irascible Popeye, Mr. Smith.
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