Prolapse

The year 1993 might not have seemed an auspicious time for new initiatives in post-Sonic Youth noise pop. A motley gaggle of archaeology students and practitioners of experimental drama might not have seemed the people for the job, and English sleaze-rock backwater Leicester was definitely not the place. Somehow, Prolapse made this kind of activity fun again. As unappealing as the prospect of droning guitar, grinding bass riffs and pounding drums — garnished with the destruction of whatever discarded household appliances might be gleaned from the streets in the vicinity of the show — sounds, Prolapse stands apart from the art bores by its liveliness, submerged humor and preference for driving rhythmic grooves over self-indulgent fretwank. The most arresting part of the sextet's performance (often unsettling even for the initiated) is the unpredictable and generally tempestuous interaction between the two vocalists: sensitive souls in the audience tremble as the huge, hairy Scot Mick Derrick attacks the diminutive Linda Steelyard verbally and physically — yet it is generally the larger contender who takes away the more serious injuries.