The phrase “rinse and repeat” takes on a whole new meaning with I Wonder When They’re Going to Destroy Your Face, the visceral and violent new album from post-punk merchants of misery Prolapse. Their first record in 26 years, a bracing and mysterious statement of intent, washes away the past with cyclonic fury, well-drilled, recurring riffs and tense vocal volleys from Mick Derrick and Linda Steelyard – his thick Scottish brogue nasty and brutish alongside her temperamental clarity. As formulas go, it’s highly combustible and darkly funny.
Almost conversational in style, often talking at cross purposes, the interplay between Derrick and Steelyard is dramatic and compelling, carelessly cutting through the explosive din of Prolapse’s gripping, momentum-swinging three-guitar assault as if they hardly notice it. “Err on the Side of Dead” certainly gnashes its teeth, gradually building in intensity and ringing out alarms, Tim Pattison’s drumming as punishing and powerful as it everywhere else. A moody bassline drags the body of opener “The Fall of Cashline” with dub-like consistency, vigorous stop-start strumming stubbornly sticking to the script in a downpour of scratchy, shoegazing sheets of noise, whereas “Ectoplasm United” whips up a beautiful, tumultuous chaos and a pounding “Jackdaw” creates an even more dizzying squall of dissonance.
Circling and sneering at each other, initiating wild brawls or thatching together dense, blazing thickets of sound, the guitar work of David Jeffreys, Pat Marsden and Donald Ross Skinner is diverse and unrelentingly potent – worth the price of admission alone, as are the stream-of-conscious lyrics, as hard as they are to decipher. The glue is Mick Harrison’s undulating bass, and it is sticky, but not everything on I Wonder When They’re Going to Destroy Your Face goes full blast. Leading to haunted rooms, the spooky and spare hallways of “Ghost in the Chair” – ending with jetting effects zooming overhead – are unsettling to float through, and hardly what’s expected of Prolapse, as “Cha Cha Cha 2000” is lost in a surreal reverie, recounting a strange dream with unexpected guest stars. And there’s a krautrock motor driving “On the Quarter Days,” Prolapse connecting the dots between The Fall, Fontaines D.C. and Sleaford Mods in their own way. No plastic surgery is necessary. Your visage isn’t changing, but your perspective might. Prolapse’s latest thrill ride could have that effect.
