A cloud of mortality hangs over this record. And its appearance is an understandable one considering MES was on the other side of his 50th birthday and spent much of the year surrounding the recording of this album in a wheelchair after breaking his hip. That’s a true marker of one’s fragility, so who wouldn’t be thinking about the inevitable end.

As he’s proven since, MES is not going to go out quietly. Using the same band that he recorded Imperial Wax Solvent with (“The best lineup I’ve ever had,” he told The Independent around the time of the album’s release), the Fall rage and reep, snap and snarl out these nine tunes with a strength that belies the frailty of its fallen leader. MES doesn’t shy away from the subject of his accident, taking us with him to the scene of the crime (“Y.F.O.C./Slippy Floor”), to share his frustration at being hospitalized post-accident (“Chino”), and poetically wonders aloud about the aging process and what that means for his future (“Weather Report 2″).

His band bolsters him up rather than letting him wallow. These young bucks sound as spirited and agonized as they did just two years before, adding in elements of Morricone-like landscapes, pure punk, and simmering mid-tempo balladry. What this also includes though is some long outros that wrap some songs up with nasty clouds of synth-based burbles and squeaks. It’s like a dream where you run right into a pool of thick, black goo.