Fragments of Unpopular Culture 8: Das Gruppe

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 played me “It’s The New Thing,” their second single, right through to a shambolic, non-performance at the Sage in October 2004, I’d spent over 25 years in love with the band. I bought every single release of theirs, attended every gig I could, proselytised them in print and even wrote for a fanzine called “The Biggest Library Yet,” which was based entirely on The Fall. These days, of course, I realise Teenage Fanclub are the best band in the world and The Wedding Present are the second best. However, on Friday 4^th November, The Fall are playing Newcastle and I’m taking Ben to see them. He’s 16 and I think he’s expecting to hear “Winter,” “Touch Sensitive” and “Theme From Sparta FC.” He won’t, but it’ll intriguing as ever to hear what they do play. As I said before, I’m out of practice writing gig reviews or music based pieces in general, so instead of trying to write what I think about them, here’s some stuff I did in the past that’s about The Fall.

The second article I ever wrote for “The Biggest Library Yey” was about my first ever Fall gig, which had been back in June 1980 at the Tyne Theatre on Westgate Road. This is what I said -:

Stepping Out

Wise-ass American film critics would call it a 'rite of passage'. We linguistically sober Little Englanders 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 at the Newcastle New Tyne Theatre. The gig 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 a job in an electrical components factory. This particular night was a Saturday and I was still coming to terms with having £25 in my pocket in respect of my first week's wages.

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 saw Kristin Hersh there in April 1994. The best thing about the New Tyne was that all the seating was as it had been, thus me and about 10 mates 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 was a decade and a half 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, unpalatable now but very popular among the long overcoat proto-Bunnymen brigade. Now 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 advanced then yourself I mused, 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. Subsequently, a man I did not know and have never seen since came up to me in a pub, the name of which I can't remember, and gave me a bootleg of the gig (did I cover myself legally on that one?) and what strikes me is just how long a gig it was. Perhaps it was the overpowering stench of Evo-Stik from the prototype punk retards in the bogs or just the sheer excitement I felt, who knows? It certainly affected my mental equilibrium. Anyway, 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.

When I arrived downstairs, I discovered the closest I could get to the stage was about 50 feet. 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 Hofbrau German Bierkellar; this was in the days before Riverside and finding a place 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 Music Hall days. No doubt it had been maintained during the time it was a cinema to ensure the dirty raincoat brigade didn't impale themselves on the stage, attempting to ravish the Swedish nurses or lesbian nuns on the screen. 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. My main memories of the set were of how wonderful 'Impression of J. Temperance' and 'New Puritan' sounded.

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 - much in the same way as I go on about jungle/ techno nowadays.

Fall 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 / Psycho Mafia / Stepping Out

That was written back in 1994, which marked the halfway point between that gig and now. I’m amazed to see how much of a middle-aged, middle class snob I appear in the words I wrote back then. I hope I’m more tolerant now. I keep a copy of every single publication in which I’m had something printed, which extends to about 1,000 magazines, I’m not joking. One of these years I’ll sit down and catalogue them all. Every so often I’ll dig a few out and have a read; it’s instructive. I cringe as I fulminate over long disbanded, utterly obscure bands and make outlandish proclamations about the future of Newcastle United, none of which came true.

I didn’t think anyone read them until last October when a Canadian Fall fan contacted me and asked if I’d a copy of the tape from the June 1980 gig. As it happens I did, so I sent it to him and, amazingly, he sent me a copy of it back on CD, together with copies of the October 1981 gig (set list; The N.W.R.A. / Fantastic Life / Look, Know / Jawbone and the Air Rifle / Hip Priest / 2nd Dark Age / Lie Dream of a Casino Soul / Session Musician / Just Step Sideways / Who Makes the Nazis / Container Drivers // C'n'C-s Mithering > I'm into C.B. / Prole Art Threat / Deer Park) and one at Newcastle Riverside in June 1986 (set list: My New House / City Hobgoblins / Living too Late / Lucifer over Lancashire / Bombast / Riddler / Hey! Luciani / L.A. / Couldn't Get Ahead / Gross Chapel-GB Grenadiers / Hot Aftershave Bop / Prole Art Threat / Barmy / Cruiser's Creek).

Looking back now, it astonishes me the memories it brings back. All of the Felling Punks up in the Royal Box at the New Tyne Theatre, in 1980. In 1981, John and I accompanied by Rob, a lad who played bass in a band with me, who had a brain haemorrhage in 1987 weeks after graduating from University. He survived, but I’ve never seen him since, though his mother was in the same MA class as me. In 1986, fresh from University, only back in Newcastle a week, and Paul, Jeremy and myself were almost thrown out of the Riverside for dancing on the side of the stage to “City Hobgoblins.”

The quality of the sound may not be the best, but the quality of the memories is. I used to love The Fall and I still love the memories I carry of them.

In the second issue of “The Biggest Library Yet,” I contributed this piece -:

Close Encounters

Trying to get backstage at a Fall gig is almost as tricky as being initiated into the Freemasons. Out of an audience of 700, only three people managed it that night: me, my partner Sara, and my sister Elaine. The scene was a bizarre one.

'My lads', as Smith would call them, sat in one corner drinking beer and eating peanuts, whilst in the other MES stared out of the window, smoking like a laboratory full of beagles and drinking champers. On being introduced to him by the road manager, he shook us firmly by the hand, stood us a beer and let me shout things through his personal megaphone. He was disarmingly charming, offering us cigarettes, signing autographs and apologising for swearing in front of the ladies. He said they would seriously consider playing my wedding reception 'for about a hundred quid', informed us that he and Saffron were to be married on 27 April that year and politely excused himself as they had to be going. We left stunned and in awe - this was like visiting the Pope for me.

Sadly, European tour dates meant they couldn't do the wedding, but they sent a telegram saying: 'Apologies for our non-appearance. Keep your nerve. Your pals Mark E. Smith and The Fall.' It is framed and on display in our dining room.

Finally, in issue 13 of “The Biggest Library Yet,” I had this to say -:

Ol' (style) Gang

I've been a devotee of The Fall for 20 years now. All the tantrums and changes of direction taken by MES I've accepted without question. Yet, the incidents in America this spring left me a worried man. I really thought it was the end of the band. To be left with two members, one of whom had a court order against the other, seemed an insurmountable obstacle to the band's future development. As for the rest, well Karl Burns's frequent departures are simply par for the course. Personally, I like any Fall line up that features him more than ones that don't. I don't believe either Brix's Second Coming or especially Tommy Crooks could either ever be looked upon as an adequate replacement for Craig Scanlon. He was a genius. The Scotsman was no great loss. However, it was Hanley's departure that really struck home. How the hell he'd put up with everything Smith threw at him for so long amazed me. Yet I was equally amazed by the fact he finally said Fuck It and left.

The existence of Ark was not a surprise. I mean remember Blue Orchids, The Creepers, Kissing The Blade. Fall spin off bands are not a new phenomenon. Ark were due to play Newcastle in August. I was never in a dilemma whether to attend or not. At the time I was in Ballina, County Mayo on holiday. I'm not that surprised at the news that Ark have disintegrated. I mean having played in the Fall for all that time, any other band must be a complete anti-climax. I hope Steve Hanley finds fulfilment in his new job as a school caretaker. I doubt it somehow.

Anyway, as regards The Fall, I wasn't surprised MES decided to carry on, nor was I surprised at the shambolic nature of the first couple of gigs. Things seem now to be resolving themselves. I am delighted at the quality of the performance at LA2 on August 12. It was the day after my birthday and I wasn't there, still being in Ballina, County Mayo. The tape doesn't lie.

Having followed The Fall for 20 years, you start to get fairly traditionalist in your tastes. To me, the golden years have been from Dragnet through to Room to Live and Extricate up to Code: Selfish. For a start there's none of this so called pop sensibility on any of these records as Brix didn't appear on them and, Code: Selfish apart, there's very little in the way of electronics. I'll qualify all this by saying Frenz Experiment is probably my third favourite album, but it doesn't really fit in with the point I'm trying to make. I remember the old Sounds journalist Dave McCullough in 1979, possibly a review of the infamous glass-throwing Lyceum gig with A Certain Ratio, saying he loved (the original) Human League because they used unusual instruments to make perfect pop songs and The Fall because they used normal instruments to make totally original sounds. One August night in 1998, they seemed to have returned to that state of affairs.

I don't agree with The Fall doing this nostalgia tour of the States, though it does give MES a chance to attend the court hearing and if they played the Blackpool punk fiasco, I just wouldn't go, but the stripped down four piece sound is almost atonal enough to be music to my ears. Ol' Gang is no longer a Sister Ray soundalike, but a gentle piano piece. There's the cover of F-olding Money, a rockabilly number that's new to me, which comes over as White Lightning with the bassline to Words Of Expectation grafted on to it. Plug Myself In has falsetto vocals and Bo Diddley guitar riffs. Some bloke comes on stage and shouts 'Mark Will Sink Us' over and over again until the band returns and cover the Saints' This Perfect Day. Wonderful. I'd love The Fall to continue in this vein, but I'm fully aware that a studio full of tricks will no doubt supercede any desire for a stripped down sound when it comes to recording new material. It's just encouraging he's still alive and able to make music after what's gone on of late. Now I'm looking forward to a new English tour, especially as I'm no longer barred from Newcastle Riverside.