The Sound
All Fall Down

It's difficult to talk about the Sound without feeling a sense of pale sadness, if not outright bitterness. English, born in the right place at the right time, punk rhythms and decadent lyrics like many other contemporaries - especially Joy Division - epic and compact, with nothing to envy of early U2, and a touch of psychedelia characteristic of that hotbed of talent that Liverpool had become once again, - think of fellow citizens Teardrop Explodes and Echo & The Bunnymen - yet all this was never enough to consecrate their success, to expand coordinates that would always remain limited to a circle of sincere admirers, but nothing more. Far too little for a band that, just at the start of their career, was releasing gems like "Heartland" or "I Can't Escape Myself", and a second album, "From The Lions Mouth", which calling perfect would be almost an understatement. Perhaps the main mistake was the management by the record company, unable to adequately promote those wonders and instead, due to the poor commercial success achieved, becoming increasingly cynical and demanding with the quartet. The "fateful third album" was thus born under a bad star, amid producers' skepticism and the stubborn resentment of the band, determined not to give up now, but to continue looking straight ahead without worrying about external pressures, which called for more radio-friendly and accessible music.

"All Fall Down" indeed continues in the vein of "From The Lions Mouth," but with a more uneven flow, between dark moments and others of more pop breath, yet lacking the sparkling sheen that covered the previous works. If Borland's lyrics lean towards an enigmatic hermeticism, the music, and in general the construction of the songs, betray all the unrest of the period: between episodes of anger, sadness, conflict, but also reflection and poetry, unfolds a difficult, melancholic work, at times monotonous but no less fascinating for that. The initial title track remains imprisoned among the dark beats of the bass drum, while the keyboards draw sinister landscapes. The lightness of "Party Of My Mind" arrives in time, a pop gem that feels unfinished, fragile, and original, with a sly Borland inviting us through the intricate paths of his mind. The first surprise is "Monument," slow, circular, so poetic and mysterious, to be listened to even hundreds of times, until its full revelation. "In Suspence" and "Where The Love Is" are instead uncertain episodes, suspended in mid-air between combative impulses and ordinary administration. The second side opens with "Song And Dance," also fragmentary but more credible in its impetuosity, a tense track, emblematic of the moods that could be felt inside and outside the recording studios. It is followed by "Calling The New Tune," a strange experiment in electronic pop that is pleasant in itself, where each instrument takes unusual paths. The attack of "Red Paint", epic and tight, finally brings us back into the jaws of the lions with the immediacy and fury of only a few months prior. "Glass and Smoke," instead, lays out a long and obsessive hypnotic plot over which the guitar vents all its most abrasive impulses. The closure is entrusted to the poetry of "We Could Go Far," fascinating and impalpable, a winter fog that envelops the streets leaving only the street lamps to peek out, a small masterpiece with which a heartbroken Borland thus bids farewell: "Noi potremmo cadere… potremmo andare lontano…"

And indeed, with this poignant and contradictory album, the Sound moved even further away from the limelight that mattered; a seemingly self-inflicted melancholy drift, but inevitable, given the expectations and the stress the band was subjected to. From this impasse, they would know how to shake themselves and react, producing more accessible and no less evocative works such as the EP "Shock of Daylight" and the subsequent "Head And Hearts." But if the critics responded positively, the same can't be said for the audience, which relegated the band - no one will ever truly know why - to a faint niche phenomenon. The cd reissues from Renascent, if nothing else, allow me and many others who couldn't have their say at the time to discover the many gems they have gifted us and spread their echo, thus doing justice to the fragile talent of the late Adrian Borland.