Half sung lyrics that are forced along by an irresistibly rough hewn rhythm...punctuated by demented melodic barbs. Hill Country Blues or....
Little Milton, Albert, B.B....we love you but, the Bossman's here now. Scatter!
Break your ears on this.
"Then One Night/I Was Doin' My Homework/My Woman/She Calls Out Yo' Name."
Those early Fall records are rocknroll in another dimension...a better one. One where Hill Country Blues, not Delta Blues, set the rules. Where they don't have a word for Rockabilly because Rockabilly just is. Where they don't have a word for Hippie because they've never seen one...and, internets forgive me, they've never heard a Boy Band sing Twist and Shout. I love the Fall...but, those records from Grotesque to Perverted By Language are transcendent.
We haven't even bothered with the fact that you have Ezra Pound, Christopher Logue, Mary Flannery and Eliot...ranting over the whole thing.
That's how a Cracker came to be obsessed with the FALL.*
How this clown became such a hater we'll probably never know.
Get The F*** Down Y'all!
*For the record...I am a Cracker...not a Redneck. My people were among those Britons who settled South Georgia