Prolapse – The Italian Flag – Interview

Prolapse

The annotated (and unforgivably padded) interview

The Italian Flag (Jetset)
by Nik Rainey

It was a fine idea at the time, really it was.

We’d gotten a hold of the brand-new Prolapse CD, The Italian Flag, which is filled to bursting (and I don’t just mean that as a figure of speech – there are parts of this album where things are wrapped so tightly they seem to rupture) with the kind of mad, caterwauling whirligiggery that anyone who knows the band knows well (and therefore shouldn’t have to bear the awkward attempts at description that follow) – a powerful admixture of pissed-off Stereolab, pissed-on Velvets, and skinned and scabbed echoes reclaimed from music’s dead cities, whether it’s a centuries-old folk song (or what sounds like one) or a particular guitar sound that seems plucked out of the late-eighties Homestead catalog. All of which is roped together by the lager-daft call-and-response between demented-sounding manky Scots git Mick Derrick and kitten-with-a-whip Linda Steelyard. Great names, those, especially since their often completely enigmatic lyrics sometimes go together just as meaninglessly but intriguingly as oil and scrap metal.

It’s a breathtakingly chaotic sound the U.K. sextet cobbles together, the sound of disparate elements flung at one another with so much ferocity that they fuse, and The Italian Flag is probably the best example to date of their sodden-intellectuals-in-a-bar-brawl aesthetic. I’m almost afraid to play the album again for fear it’ll hurt me.

So given that (not to mention their rep for on-stage intervocalist dustups that’d send Oasis to the electrolysis clinic), we thought a Prolapse interview would be enough to mangle the staples in the center spread and kill some of our younger, thinner-skinned reviewers just by mere proximity. At the very least, we expected some thick-accented profanities we’d never heard before to spice up our conversations on subway platforms. Alas, t’was not to be.

First off, it was decreed that the whole thing be done via email, hardly the best medium to catch pint-glass shrapnel in your neck through (that is, unless the attachment capabilities of this new version of Eudora Light are better than advertised). Secondly, half of the “conversation” betwixt myself and Ms. Steelyard was rendered unreadable through mutual PC incompatability (and this after several false starts and dead posts presently meandering, lost, through the cyber-ether). Thirdly, and most disappointingly, Steelyard was far too fuggin’ civil, refusing to rise to the bait on the several occasions I came up with some potentially incendiary queries. The result: a well-intentioned, much-appreciated, entirely unexciting interview I’ve been forced to punch up with a bunch of overused ‘zine-writer’s conceits and a lengthy intro. Hope nobody notices.

(the inevitable opening question…) “Prolapse,” when one bothers to look it up 1, is a very unpleasant state indeed. Do the unsavory connotations of the name still suit the band these days?
Linda Steelyard: The name was chosen to indicate something undesirable in a miserable sort of way, rather than unsavoury. (Unfortunately, we have come to realise that it makes some people think of arses.2) We still see ourselves as miserable gits 3 so yes.

(the unavoidable “tell-me-about-the-new-album” question…) The Italian Flag, while maintaining the unmistakable Prolapse traits, does seem to be a bit of an advance for you as a unit (more organic, less definable by whatever influences people like me fall back on when describing you, etc). Do you get a sense of evolution when you lay this alongside your previous records?4
It’s difficult to be analytical of your own evolution, but it’s a fairly good bet that the longer a band is together the more “advanced” it’ll sound. Plus we had more money for this album than we’ve ever had before, which helps.5

(the sadly predictable “howja-write-dem-songs” question…) A lot is made of the extemporaneous, improvisational nature of your compositions 6. Does that go through several stages from writing to recording, or does it show up on the records cut from whole cloth?
No set rules. Some songs are recorded after we’ve been playing them for a year or two. Some songs don’t exist until they are recorded7. The band doesn’t have a song writer, everyone does their own bit. There’s not much tinkering – the bits usually seem to fit together.

(the unbelievably trite Fall question…) For a band that gets compared so much to the Fall, what are your thoughts on Mark E. Smith’s latest foibles?8 Does it not seem that, what with the violent domestic squabbles and on-stage dust-ups of the past six months, that the Fall is starting to imitate you?9 Is Ludd Gang 10 still an ongoing proposition?
Contrary to popular opinion, we are not all Fall fans. I own one (admittedly very good) Fall 7″ single and that’s the extent of my knowledge. (Most of this question is blinking anyway.)11

(the nauseatingly tired interband squabbling question…) Does the tension that helps fire up your songs become harder and harder to maintain as time goes on? Do you think that kind of stress and strain between the band members is necessary to create music as intense as yours? Or is this an aspect of the band that gets played up far out of proportion in the skirmish-hungry media? Are we completely off-base – is Prolapse really just a band of happy, petal-kissing peaceniks?
This “tension” people pick up on is natural and has been there from the start and probably defines everything about the band. It’s not hard to keep it going because we don’t think about it, apart from when the media picks up on it and isolates it by pointing a huge inky finger and saying LOOK AT THIS – THIS IS INTERESTING as if they’ve never seen people squabbling.12 If people think we go around blackening each other’s eyes all the time, they’ve got the wrong end of the stick; we only do that occasionally and never when asked.

(the unmistakably desperate theoretical question…) The long-awaited overthrow of the government has finally taken place, and the new despot (let’s call him Biff 13), a “Doorstop Rhythmic Bloc”14 fan, has offered Prolapse their choice of personal enemies to execute (limit: one per band member; entire groups may count as one). Who goes against the wall?
I can’t answer this question without getting incredibly serious which wouldn’t be appropriate, so I won’t.15 Let’s just say it’d have something to do with aeroplanes 16.

(the spasmodically straw-grasping “witty” question…) Is there some sort of governmental program in the U.K. that doles out money the more Micks there are in a band 17?
Ditto. Not the bit about aeroplanes though 18.

(the stunningly arbitrary decade-contrasting question…) “Deanshanger”19 makes it abundantly clear what you thought of the ’80s 20 – is the ’90s much better?
It made it clear what Scottish Mick thought of the 80’s. I can’t comment on his political views but I do know that Scrappy Doo 21 was crap.

(the drearily overused glossy-mag question…) Finish this sentence: “My ideal evening would consist of…”
“…winning many millions of pounds on 22 the lottery.”

(the “could-be-construed-as-political-if-maybe-there-were-verbs-in-there” question…) America. Why?
…because you fly across rather than up and down, which is better apparently 23.

(the brazenly anticlimactic final question…) Does Prolapse have any final words of wisdom for the kids?
Watch Coronation Street, if you get the chance 24.

FOOTNOTES

1 From Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary:
prolapse \Pro*lapse”\, n. [L. prolapsus, fr. prolapsus, p. p. of prolabi to fall forward; pro forward + labi to glide, fall.] (Med.)
The falling down of a part through the orifice with which it is naturally connected, especially of the uterus or the rectum. – Dunglison a.
Mmmm, tasty.

2 This is how the English refer to “backsides.” We like to laugh at them for this, just as they like to laugh at us for the pronunciation “butt-OX.”

3 Webster’s:
git \Git\, n. (Founding) See Geat.

4 This, incidentally, is a great question to ask any band or musician – flattering, obsequious, and essentially meaningless. You don’t even have to have listened to the album to throw this one out. If you’d like to adapt it for your own interviews, send a self-addressed, stamped envelope and $12.99 to cover royalties to The Nik Rainey Memorial Hyperbole Fund, c/o this magazine.

5 Canny Linda responds to the meaningless query with a straightforward, well-aimed non-answer. The hunter gets captured by the game.

6 I think I mentioned it to somebody once.

7 This could be an offhanded bit of philosophizing on Linda’s part, a sort of “if a tree fell down in the forest and no one was there, do you still think Cornelius would be available to remix it?” statement. But I doubt it.

8 Mark E. Smith, lead “singer” of the Fall, climaxed a brief American tour last year by getting arrested for beating up his girlfriend/keyboard player in a drunken rage, after which every member of his band except his girlfriend/keyboard player split. Smith appears to have straightened himself up somewhat since then, but this writer (a longtime Fall fan) was appalled at the anti-rock iconoclast’s unwelcome Tommy Lee impersonation. I only pray there are no videos floating about, if you follow my wake.

9 That’s me, always looking to put a funny spin on alcoholic rock stars and domestic abuse. Cheers.

10 An ad hoc Fall cover band made up of members of Prolapse and British cult group I, Ludicrous.

11 That’d make a great lyric, wouldn’t it?

12 Gulp.

13 This is humor.

14 Another long-standing rock interview tradition, in which the interlocutor attempts to curry favor with the interlocutee by mentioning an old, obscure song title that he himself has never heard to impress the artist with his knowledge. I don’t think it worked.

15 Wouldn’t hurt to FUCKING TRY, WOULD IT? Oh, uh, sorry.

16 Uhhh…

17 Prolapse has two: the aforementioned Derrick (or “Scottish Mick”) and bassist Harrison (or “Geordie Mick”), thus tying the Stones in their post-Brian Jones, pre-Ron Wood period. The record for most Micks in a band is still held, of course, by the Chieftains. (Joking, joking – no pipe bombs, please.)

18 See note 16.

19 Named after an English suburb, as at least one song on every British album must be by royal decree. Extra points for choosing a name that sounds like bizarre English slang for “penis.”

20 Sample lyric from “Deanshanger”: “The music – was crap! The hair – was crap!” Should that seem a trifle blunt, consider that most of Scottish Mick’s lyrics are along the lines of “They trickle it doon and wi sup it aw up/ This mug wullny take it, am full tae the brim ye see” and consider how lucky you have it.

21 An obvious sign of our cultural supremacy over the Brits – we had the late-period Scooby Doo episodes with the plucky pup Scrappy in the late ’70s. A dying empire, you bet.

22 Not in the lottery, mind you, but on the lottery. I can only guess that this is less a Brit linguistic quirk than Linda’s admissal of bizarre group-sex practices with members of the Royal Gaming Commission. Which, if you factor in their combined weights, really would be “winning many millions of pounds.” If it weren’t for that fucking metric system, that is.

23 Maybe this explains the “aeroplane” comments above. Has the Concorde gone vertical on us all of a sudden? Is Richard Branson to blame?

24 I really should stop asking this question, obviously.

a (Dunglison??)