Name: Your Future Our Clutter
Brand: The Fall

Bonus disc

Bonus disc: No

Catalogue number

CD-WIG-245

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Colour

Colour details

Discogs ID

Format multiplier

Download code

Download code: No

Rough Trade Exclusive

Rough Trade Exclusive: No

Extended format

Extended format: No

Format detail

Format Music US

Limited edition

Release date

2020-05-15

Signed copies

Signed copies: No

Supplier US

Redeye

Tax rate US

Sales:8.875

UPC / Barcode

5034202024521

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Total Cap

1 / CD / Extended format: No / Rough Trade Exclusive: No / Signed copies: No

LP-WIG-245

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Black

5034202024514

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1 / Extended format: No / LP / Rough Trade Exclusive: No / Signed copies: No / black

Artist

The Fall

Genre US

Label US

Domino is an independent label founded in Putney, South West London by *a694357* and his partner Jacqui Rice in 1993. The label initially focused on American acts such as *Sebadoh*, *Pavement* or *Royal Trux* before signing British acts in the late '90s.

The label operates a US division, located in Brooklyn, which output was initially identified by its own catalogue number schemes, DOMUS then DNO (used until 2013), when the releases handled by the UK headquarters are identified by WIG (albums) and RUG (singles and EPs) catalogue numbers.

The company operating the label, *Warp Records*, diversified, establishing a publishing arm and a series of labels (*Double Six Recordings*, *Weird World Record Co.*, *Rephlex*, ...).

Domino

The Fall was a British post-punk band formed in 1976. Led by the enigmatic Mark E. Smith, they were known for their unique sound and uncompromising approach to music. With over 30 studio albums and numerous lineup changes, The Fall remained influential throughout their career.
Combining elements of punk, rock, and experimental music, The Fall created a distinct sonic landscape that defied categorization. Their lyrics often touched on themes of social commentary and existentialism, delivered with Smith's distinctive snarling vocals.
Despite their underground status, The Fall garnered a dedicated fanbase and critical acclaim. Their impact can still be felt in the alternative music scene today. Explore their discography to discover the raw energy and artistic vision that made The Fall one of the most revered bands of their time.

New Wave / Post Punk

On Your Future Our Clutter, The Fall and Mark E Smith are standing tall with a glint in their eye. The album, like the band’s current line–up, is lean and fast. The Fall at their forward moving, bone shaking best. Smith, rarely deluded about the virtues of musicians, can testify to the results audible on the record: “I love this band, it’s the best I’ve ever had, I suppose I would say that but there you are.” 

Album opener "O.F.Y.C Showcase" fuses M60 motorik with drag racing riffs as Smith shouts the album’s title with delirious intent. A few bars in and the sound of white heat in the studio is palpable. "Hot Cake", "Chino", and "Funnel of Love" are all recent highlights of the band’s live shows; taut and spare, stretched and pummelled into shape by Eleni Poulou’s keyboard distortions and interventions.

Smith has famously called The Fall country ’n’ northern. Cowboy George is Morricone ’n’ northern. Twanging guitars leave trails in the dust as peyote shamen make an appearance in the saloon bar. That at any rate is the disorienting effect of hearing Smith’s narration of “a story I was told / of unseen knowledge, unseen hills, unseen footage, and unseen facts.” At nearly eight minutes long "Y.F.O.C. / Slippy Floor" is a contemporary Fall epic. After two minutes of Smith, bass and drums, the band at their most hotwired and raucous, escalate into mangled euphoria. And, once hell has officially broken loose, decide to stop. Then a dissolve into tape hisses, answering machine spectres and tapping hands.

Your Future Our Clutter concludes with "Weather Report 2". Smith, revisiting the voice he used to such effect on Extricate’s "Bill is Dead", sings with mournful tenderness. It’s hard not to associate the lyrics with Smith’s recent spell of wheelchair bound incapacitation: “I watched Murder She Wrote, at least five times / The cast deserved to die.” In the unlikely event that Smith was after any sympathy, it would be for having to put up with daytime TV and nothing else. Slowly mutating into a dark electronic pulse, the sound is stately and eerie, echoing Smith’s observation that “The whirlpools grow wider and wider”. As the pulses start to quicken and blow fuses, Smith leans in close to the microphone and delivers a whispered coda: "You don’t deserve rock ’n’ roll”