Saturday, 27 July 2013

City Hobgoblins

Issue #5 of "Push," the greatest literary magazine in the world has just been published. Get it for £2.50 inc P&P via PayPal from joe.england64@gmail.com but hurry as there's only 120 available. My article in this one is about The Fall, a group I've written about before http://payaso-del-mierda.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/that-man-loves-you.html but not as well as I've done in "Push," in my opinion. Here are my words, but do make sure you buy the magazine to read the other excellent stuff in there...


For many, many years, The Fall used to be my favourite band in the world, ever, of all time. From the first time I’d heard them in late 1978, when my cousin John  played me “It’s The New Thing,” their second single, right through to a shambolic, non-performance at the Sage in October 2004, I spent over 25 years in love with the band. I bought every single release of theirs, attended every gig I could and proselytised them in print. These days, of course, I realise Teenage Fanclub are the best band in the world and The Wedding Present are the second best. However, back in November last year, The Fall played Newcastle and I took my son Ben to see them.  I think he was expecting to hear “Winter,” “Touch Sensitive” and “Theme From Sparta FC.” He didn’t. What happened was The Fall (MES in particular I mean) finally showed up 45 minutes late and played an hour’s set in which I recognised 4 songs (“Strychnine,” “Psykick Dancehall,” “Printhead” and “White Lightning”), but they were really rather tremendous. MES looks as well as ever (cough!) and the bairn drunkenly told me it was one of the best gigs he’d ever been to. Of course this was before we went to see Neil Young, which he claimed has changed his life; and that made me think of a similar night over 30 years ago.

Wise-ass American film critics probably would call it a 'rite of passage'. We linguistically sober Brits would refer to it as all part of growing up! I'm talking about my first ever Fall gig. It happened on 28 June 1980, 14 years and 364 days before my son was born, at the Newcastle New Tyne Theatre. Tickets cost £2.00 and beer was 43p a pint. I was a month away from my 16th birthday and was on something of a high, having just completed my O Levels and secured an enticing job in an electrical components factory. This particular night was a Saturday and I was still coming to terms with having £25 to spend in my pocket.

The gig was being promoted by a wonderful organisation called Anti Pop that had done the Au Pairs and Delta 5 the week before and, wait for it, Pink Military Stand Alone (remember them?) the previous night. The New Tyne Theatre was not new at all, but an aged musical hall that had done time as the Stoll 'erotic' cinema before lying dormant, like its former customers presumably, for many years. It's still doing service as a theatre and infrequent musical venue; in fact, I’m off to see Christy Moore there in October. The best thing about the New Tyne was that all the seating was as it had been; so me and about 10 mates (we styled ourselves as FPX; the Felling Punks) commandeered one of the Royal Boxes, complete with velvet drapes and opera glasses, in order to get a better view.

First on were local band Flesh, both of whom worked in the local Virgin Records store and were absolute shite. They released a record once: a cover of 'My Boy Lollipop' in the manner of Suicide. This 33 years ago, remember. Next to read the boards were Clicks, a band memorable only for having ex-Penetration guitarist Garry Chaplin as leader; they had played one gig the previous April as Iron Curtain and used Munch's 'The Scream' for their posters and t-shirts; Joy Division crossed with the Velvets. I friended Gary on Facebook last year and reminded him of the gig; he described it as an “unpalatable” experience. Perhaps this doesn't seem to be much of a night to remember so far but Cabaret Voltaire, in their atonal electric Dadaist phase, were on immediately before The Fall and achieved an enormously polarised reaction. I thought they were brilliant; the rest of the audience bombarded them with glasses, jeers and phlegm. To be truly innovative, you must be prepared to endure the opprobrium of those less tolerant than yourself I mused, and then went for a pint.

When The Fall hit the stage, I had the horns of a dilemma to sit on; should I remain in the Royal Box with a perfect view, or should I venture to the front in search of a better atmosphere? There was no problem with sound quality, it was diabolical everywhere, but it was important for me to find the right spot to spend the second most important night of my life thus far. Downstairs, I discovered the closest I could get to the stage was about 50 feet away. Contrast this with The Fall's next appearance at Newcastle in October 1981, when I spent the gig sat on the stage at the dismally naff Hofbrauhaus Bierkellar; this was in the days when finding a place for non-mainstream bands to play was almost impossible.

The reason for being kept at a distance was the roped off orchestra pit area that hailed back to the theatre’s Music Hall days. Faced with this huge gap, I returned back upstairs. Sadly, unlike Royal Variety Command performances, all performers and audience didn't turn to applaud us and throw red roses at the end.
Years later, I sourced a bootleg of the gig from a Fall website and listening to it again, what strikes me is just how long a gig it was. This digitised version of recording made on a smuggled mono cassette recorder reinforced fading memories of how wonderful 'Impression of J. Temperance' and 'New Puritan' sounded  Perhaps it was the waft of Evo-Stik from the UK Subs fans in the bogs or just the sheer excitement I felt, who knows? It certainly affected my mental equilibrium, because most of the evening passed in a blur. As was their wont at the time, The Fall slipped in eight unreleased songs out of a 16-song set. I spent a lot of time inventing possible titles for the newies, such as, and how I cringe now, “Totally Wild.”

The only downer was at the end. As the gig would finish after the last bus and I hadn't a clue about taxis at that age, my dad had arranged to pick me up. Horror upon horror for me and my cousin, as my dad and uncle were waiting directly outside and proceeded to drone on for the 15-minute journey home about how dreadful punk fashions were and how the music is just noise. I’m an older man now than they were then and I rest contented knowing I can still appreciate Godspeed You! Black Emperor, even if my son thinks the Quebecois nonet are just an awful racket.

The Fall’s set at Newcastle New Tyne Theatre, 28.06.80
The N.W.R.A. / 2nd Dark Age / Impression of J. Temperance / City Hobgoblins / Totally Wired/ Muzorewi's Daughter / Fiery Jack / Gramme Friday / Printhead / English Scheme / New Face in Hell / Choc-Stock / Diceman / New Puritan 



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