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November 01, 2007
On "Manchasm"
The early demise of Welsh power trio Mclusky was unusually depressing, not so much because they were great, but because it seemed like they were just about to be. The band's breakthrough album, Mclusky Do Dallas (produced by Steve Albini) was funny, mean, and heavy. In direct contrast from the week kneed strain of indie rock perpetually spilling through the tubes, it drew more heavily from the flaming wreckage of the Jesus Lizard than it did from Pavement's melodic irony. Beavis and Butthead would have LOVED that album. It's successor, The Difference Between You and Me is That I'm Not on Fire, was initially treated as a minor step back, but recent listens have revealed it to be severely underrated. The band had shed a bit of their raw heaviosity by substituting complex and catchy vocal patterns, without losing a spot of acid wit. It was overlong and patchy still, but the jigsaw pieces were continuing to fall into place. When the band broke up (presumably because they were actually the fork tongued misanthropes captured in song) it felt like we were robbed of that one perfect record.
Hope returned when, after a healthy hibernation, lead singer Andy "Falco" Falkous and drummer Jack Egglestone reemerged (without that other guy) as the quite similar, if more synth friendly, Future of the Left. While I'm not ready to claim that the new band's has recorded the LP that fulfills Mclusky's promise once and for all, they did manage at least one optimal moment. For reasons that are almost evenly split between artful and accidental, "Manchasm" is a finer song than Mclusky ever produced.
Future of the Left - "Manchasm"
Defying a band name that suggests political acumen, it's hard to think of a more toxic opening line than, "Mark Foley was right!" Of course, the boys were cryptically referring to a pal of theirs from Cardiff and not the disgraced boy-crazy Republican. But, by the time Future of the Left's debut, Curses, hit shelves in the UK that connotation had been locked in, it's authority cemented with every confused Google search. It resonates beyond a simple coincidence because triumphantly referencing a creep like Foley is exactly the sort of jet black humor Falkous fans have come to expect. This is the man who crafted his last band's most pop perfect moment around the declaration, "Our old singer is a sex criminal" (more on that later). So, with the ultimate page lover firmly in mind, lines affirming "Foley"'s prescient commentary on ghosts, optimism towards medical research, and especially his well earned insight that "there are no barriers for shame" become more bizarre and funny than the originally intended non-sequitur would have . This opening salvo is backed with agressively bouncy synths, and a generally surly bassline. The elements are never quite as abrasive as Mclusky's Albini-honed guitar bursts, but glam and girly it aint.
Then, the song segues into what I guess you could call a chorus, though it's less strident and more dickish than what's come before. "Audience please, every minute matters!" pleads Falkous, apparently trying to quiet the attention of an imaginary crowd he's just awed. He then repeats his plea, again and again, as the crazed synth keeps pogoing in place. Basically they're wasting our time, but disguiing it as a frantic demand that we stop wasting theirs. Clever.
When we return to the Ballad of Mark Foley, We get the first of several deftly double tracked vocals. Instead of just returning to a familiar and enjoyable refrain, the band ups the degree of difficulty by letting the out of synch line readings overlap and interrupt each other. This builds anticipation to the return of their sarcastic plea. Making you desperately anticipate the return of the band telling you to stop wasting their time? Clever and mean.
What follows is the first truly unhinged moment, with Falkous dropping the keys to pick up his guitar, and screeching, "All he ever wanted was a det-o-nat-ahhhr!" Again, my initial delight at that segment was completely unintended. I was convinced upon many, many listens that Falkous was expressing a man's desire for "A deader New York," which I've long wanted as well. Not "deader" in the way Al Queda might like, but as in calmer, less crowded. Imagine how great all of the city's cultural advantages would be without all those other people selling them out before you can get a ticket, or blocking your clear bee-line to the back of room bar! I also briefly auditioned that all he ever wanted was a "dead hyena," a want I didn't share, but felt fine singing along to. But detonator makes grim, misanthropic sense and doesn't affect this segment's generally kick ass nature.
Then, the coup de grace. As with "She Will Only Bring You Happiness," "Manchasm" 's closing seconds and ickiest lines receive its swellest vocal interactions and most exciting music. With the previous song, however, its initial moments are so inferior to that "sex criminal" finale, that even its inspired lyrical turns felt like an exercise in waiting out the clock. Here it all seems vital, even when calling ironic attention to its place holder status (as I've just explained). Falkous clears his throat with "Now Colin..." before he and bassist Kelson Mathias embark on a wonderfully intertwining, totally thrilling round of reporting that said Colin "is a pussy." Not only a pussy, but the more ingeniously emasculating "very pretty pussy." The bratty harmonies and manic singing here has an irresistible quality that's not far off from the glory of early Buzzcocks singles. They sadly hedge their bets from such a brazen taunt, adding the age old instant double entendre generator, "cat" every so often. But the glee of riding into the sunset with such a completely juvenile, yet technically excellent, bit of bliss is unmistakable. You'll be forced to yell it at top volume. If you have a friend named Colin and can somehow get him into your car unaware that said sing-a-long is impending, it is safe to say that he will be thoroughly, thoroughly owned. And in a modern music landscape spread wide and covered in bland, isn't the very best song ever written for taunting your friend Colin a ridiculously specifc accomplishment worthy of note?
// Future of the Left - Curses - buy
Previously:
- On "Bushels"
- On "Plus Ones"
Posted by Jeff Klingman at November 1, 2007 04:25 PM
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Comments
Actually, Colin is one of the band members' cat. The end of the song has something to do with how the band's pets want them to do poorly so they won't leave home so often to tour.
Posted by: KMS at November 1, 2007 07:13 PM
This is the best running series on this website.
(Although I still like the much-referred to "She Will Only Bring You Happiness" better. Maybe time will change that.)
Posted by: Randall Monty at November 1, 2007 07:39 PM
All I have to say is this song is awesome, and they need to get this album released stateside soon.
Posted by: Jeff at November 1, 2007 08:55 PM
KMS, that may be true, but there is a big difference from singing, "Colin is a kitty, a very pretty kitty..."
Posted by: Jeff K at November 2, 2007 09:07 AM
Yeah, it's tough to argue against the double entendre of that word.
It's also tough to argue for the horrendously confusing grammar of my previous post.
Posted by: Randall Monty at November 2, 2007 09:58 AM
Great song, but this isn't close the apex of the greatness of McLusky. "Day of the Deadringers" is miles, miles better.
Posted by: JimGrib at March 12, 2008 01:37 PM
We will have to agree to disagree Jim
Posted by: Jeff K at March 12, 2008 01:57 PM
