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La strana coppia formata da Marc Almond e Dave Ball tornò in pista nel 1983, due anni dopo il felice debutto a 33 giri "Non-stop erotic cabaret". Difficile dar seguito a un lavoro del genere, felice negli esiti commerciali e artistici, e in grado di fornire una fotografia sociale ambigua e vivida di certa Inghilterra all'abbrivio del Thatcherismo. L'anno sabbatico era stato colmato dalla pubblicazione di "Non-stop ecstatic dancing", uno dei primi album di "remix" della storia, che sancì la loro natura di prime movers della scena techno-pop. "Memorabilia"confermò anche col restyling balliano di essere una delle canzoni più influenti dell'epoca (i New Order con "Blue Monday" di lì a poco avrebbero recepito...) con quel giro di basso robotico usurpato a James Brown, echi moroderiani, rumori assortiti cuciti dal mastermind Ball e plasmati dalla ineguagliabile espressività della voce di Almond, mentre in "A man could get lost" si registravano addirittura prodromi house, tra acide e assillanti battute di synth e batteria elettronica.
La gestazione di "The art of falling apart" fu dunque complessa, sia per le enormi aspettative, sia per le prime spinte centrifughe all'interno del duo, di cui il titolo è chiaramente sintomatico. Il risultato fu un lavoro dal sapore epico, non privo di contraddizioni, ma dotato di momenti di assoluto spessore, e nel quale la perdita di quel quid di urgenza, confusione e viziosità che aveva contraddistinto il debutto fu in parte compensata da una maggiore audacia compositiva.
La prima facciata rivernicia, con fin troppo mestiere, il sound di "Non-stop erotic cabaret": i suoni ossessivi e i vocalizzi caotici della disco-music seventies, le tastiere di matrice Suicide che ricreano l'enfasi up-tempo del Northern soul e un gusto melodico di derivazione Roxy Music nell' intarsiare il tutto (emblematica in tal senso "Kitchen sink drama", copia invero un po' pallida di "Say hello wave goodbye").
Anche le tematiche almondiane riprendono i suoi più celebri stilemi, benché il pathos di una "Youth" non venga eguagliato. In "Where the heart is" Marc riannoda i tormentati fili del bedsitting e dell'alienante condizione omosessuale giovanile, mentre in "Heat" sprofonda in un vortice di depravazione lasciva, nell'anonimato di una dark room. Proprio il brano in questione, sfociando in una coda sonora straniante, spiazza e introduce la seconda facciata. Qui entra in scena un imponente melodramma barocco. Sia Ball sia Almond alzano la posta, con impatto e godibilità assicurati. "Baby Doll" avvince, avvitandosi in una spirale grandiosa, proprio come la title track, in cui gli intrecci tra la grandguignolesca voce di Almond, le abbaglianti tastiere e il sintetizzatore di Ball raggiungono la perfezione, mentre di "Loving you, hating me"colpiscono gli echi di soul bianco e inusitate sgusciate di chitarra elettrica che squarciano opulenti squilli synth-pop.
Il viaggio sull'orlo del collasso prosegue con "Jimi Hendrix medley", nel quale vengono destrutturati la sensualità e il groove della più classica delle icone rock in glaciali soluzioni minimaliste. "Martin" è invece uno degli apici dell'intero repertorio softcelliano: una intensa cavalcata in bilico tra torbida ferocia e raffinata teatralità, solcata da clangori percussivi e arrangiamenti frastornanti nel forgiare morbose figure quasi industrial, per trovare sfogo in un incubo senza riparo: un punto di partenza per molte derive gotiche anni 90, a partire da quelle del reverendo Manson.
Almond e Ball si separarono poco dopo, non prima di un altro album ancora di vaglia (il malato "Last night in Sodom"): il primo per iniziare una felice carriera solista, il secondo lontano dalle scene, a parte l'ottimo progetto dei Grid. La riuscita reunion di qualche anno fa avrebbe poi ribadito il consenso e l'ammirazione per il cabaret targato Soft Cell: sempre scintillante, proprio come quella vecchia insegna a Soho.
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02 Where the Heart Is (04:32)
Atmospheres are tense today
Mother and father are rowing again
Silently seated around the table
You're the one that's getting the blame
Father looks at you like a snake
You play with the food upon your plate
No one seems to be on your side
Things that threaten to hurt your pride
Mother loves to be concerned
Using lessons that she learnt
Fathers never understand
When children have the upper hand
Smiling you did your time at school
Crying quietly like a fool
Saturday night and Sunday morning
Did all the things they asked you to do
They say that home is where the heart is
But home is only where the hurt is
Pull the wool over the eyes
Forget the worries that you started
Mother loves to be concerned
Using lessons that she learnt
Fathers never understand
When children have the upper hand
When you stayed out every night
The first time from your parent's sight
They started to show some concern
But by then it was too late
Feel it's time to pull away
Shut your ears to all they say
Be yourself you know it's true
When in the end what's left is you
Mother loves to be concerned
Using lessons that she learnt
Fathers never understand
When children have the upper hand
03 Numbers (04:55)
Numbers
Who's the person that you woke up next to today
If you were any older
Then you'd know you'd have to pay your way
Well maybe you do already
But you make out they pay you
Did you ask yourself where did love go wrong with you?
Numbers
Don't tell me your name I don't want to know
And don't forget to take all reminders when you go
Good things have to end
And I was never any good at saying goodbye
Because when I say goodbye a silly thing happens
And I always cry
Numbers
You're looking so thin these days are you doing speed?
(No, numbers)
Have you seen your face? Now you're really going to seed
(Playing numbers)
Doing a nine to five in the day
And you never know their names
Because names make a person real
And there's no real people in these games
Numbers
Pass them on and pass them by
Numbers
Never hold a good thing down for long
Numbers
Throw 'em away like Kleenex
Numbers
Pick them up and push them away
Numbers
Oh numbers
Until you wake up one day
And find that you're a number
Body one, body two, body three, body four
Body one, body two, body three, body four
Numbers
04 Heat (06:11)
It was the heat of the night I think
Or it could've been the effect of the drink
But I had to brush away the flies
That started to collect around your eyes
I've still the taste of the sweat and the dust
You're still playing games and abusing my trust
In the heat of the night
In the glow of the light
It's the back and the bite
That's feeling alright
Do you use up bodies like cigarettes
Do you need them for ego
Do you need them for sex
It was a bite of a night gone wrong
And the effect of listening to negative songs
Stuck in a love scene from blood and sand
And the way the room keeps spinning around
I steal the taste of the sweat and the dust
(Now I know what they mean by looks can kill)
You're still playing games and abusing my trust
(And they're having a strange effect on the way I feel)
In the heat of the night
In the glow of the light
It's the back and the bite
That's feeling alright
Do you use up bodies like cigarettes
Do you need them for ego
Do you need them for sex
And you're moaning about your wasted life
Lying there listening to "Spanish Eyes"
With the cups on the floor
And the plates in the sink
And the room full of smoke
And then you full of drink
You skin's going dry
And the colour of sand
Ignore the cigarette burning your hand
06 Baby Doll (03:54)
Baby doll is on her trapeze
Wearing the smile that she never sees
Thinking of dollar as she tries to tease
Time to play Sheba on a wooden stage
Taking off the clothes that are grimy with age
Rubbing down the skin that is white and cold
And the sticking plasters that cover up the holes
Stared at by a man that would do her harm
Needs to earn the money that will feed his arm
He promised you security safe and warm
He promised you security safe and warm
They'll never know the hurt that you feel inside
The emptiness you try to hide
I would melt your eyes that are glassy and cold
And as for the future when you grow old
Baby doll
Baby doll
They'll never know the hurt you feel inside
The emptiness you try to hide
Take a tiny costume from a pile of clothes
Just a touch of glitter and a glow of gold
Pick on a failure make his knees go weak
Mouth open, eyes wide, fake your peak
He'll wipe a line of dribble falling from his mouth
Make your wages later when you're back at his house
Try to hide the mirror 'cause it's never kind
Kick start the heart that's so hard to find
Try to save the beauty and to draw the line
Baby, baby, baby doll
Continue your search for a genuine love
Continue your search for a genuine love
Baby, baby, baby doll
08 The Art of Falling Apart (04:19)
The Art Of Falling Apart
Falling through at the seams
Living life in a dream
Even smiles make a lie
And I smile all the time
I'm skilled at the art
Of falling apart
It's the holding together
Together forever
Trying all of the vices
Is what's doing the damage
All the good things are bad things
And I'm paying the prices
I'm skilled at the art
Of falling apart
It's the holding together
Together forever
I'm covered in bruises
From mixing with losers
It's the black and the blue
That's seeing me through
My cigarette diet
Means my throat hurts like hell
My friends say I'm dying
But I do it so well
I'm skilled at the art
Of falling apart
It's the holding together
Together forever
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