Showing posts with label MARK E. SMITH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MARK E. SMITH. Show all posts

Saturday, May 16, 2026

Fuck Art, Let's Dance / Fuck Dance, Let's Art

 (a talk I gave at Harvard in 2012 at a conference on Art + Rock) 


“When 'art' walks through the door, it's got 15 suitcases full of very smelly washing (ideas of 'geniuses', 'creativity', 'individualism', and the rest of it)...which as far as we're concerned is the kind of crap that just clutters up your back garden, and gets in the way when you want to go out…. There is an art-based conversation that is swamping our neighbourhood, right? It's detrimental to our practice…. [It’s] high-culturally derived hogwash, and it's dragging us down… Half the groups that are around at the moment are ex-art-college groups… You are on board a sinking ship--you're one hulk of a rotting carcass, whose language...y'know... don't chuck it over us, chum, because it's redolent of all things tedious, repressive and slimy.”

- art school graduate Green Gartside, speaking to the art journal Primary Sources on the International Performing Arts, 1979

"Iggy pretty much changed my life. I saw him in 1969, when I had been fooling around a bit with electronic music, but I was still basically a visual artist....  Out walks this androgynous figure, no shirt on, muscled. He was walking out telling everybody to go fuck themselves and he had this look in his eye, and this amazing body. It kicked into “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” then “1969,” and suddenly Iggy’s flying into the audience. Then he’s back onstage and cutting himself up with drumsticks and bleeding. The bass player is humping the guitar player with his bass. The whole set lasted 20 minutes maybe. Usually at rock shows they put on some rock’n’roll between the bands’ sets, but right after the the Stooges finished, whoever was in the sound booth put on one of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. It was perfect, because what we had just seen was great art, and the person in the booth understood that.... I realized that, as a [visual] artist, I could either carry on down this road and be dishonest, or I had to make some moves. Whatever I was doing as an artist was insignificant at this point. That’s what got me moving in the direction of the music thing more intensely—because it was a vehicle for doing something more environmental than painting."

- Alan Vega, painter / light-sculptor and member of a New York artists collective


Lester Bangs, in conversation with Jim De Rogatis, 1982

LB: "Rolling Stone's Jon Landau was saying things at the time like every Glenn Campbell album, every Jerry Vale album, every Helen Reddy album, every Ann Murray album was a distinct piece of art which should not be looked at as a piece of product.

JdR: That's definitely against your theory, right? Rock is not art.

LB: Oh, I don't know. I double back on myself so much. There's the trash aesthetic and all that. The way I've written about the Velvet Underground and Van Morrison, of course it's art.


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Rock has never quite made its mind up about "art"

Is the status of “art” something to aspire towards, to claim and to seize in defiance of those who would judge rock’n’roll as so low it's beneath consideration?

Or is "art" precisely, for those same reasons, something to recoil from --  should the onset of artiness be feared as the point at which a vital lowliness begins to fade,  the confinement or castration of an energy that is properly plebeian, out in the world in a radically democratic way?

In the rock’n’roll world, art often has negative connotations –  suggestive a deficit of the visceral, effete conceptualism, dry detachment --   it suggests institutionalization, politeness...

Acceptance is equated with acceptability

Art is improving, it’s associated with education - whereas rock’n’roll should be closer to truancy, delinquency, the un-edifying.

In “What A Waste”, Ian Dury lists all the socially valuable careers he could have pursued but instead he chose to be a singer in a band, the Blockheads: “what a waste what a waste... rock’n’roll don’t mind” – 

Yet Ian Dury studied at the Royal Court of Art, actually taught at various art colleges...


He’s just one of numerous  literally art-schooled people in rock who’ve acted out an ambivalence towards art – John Lennon, Pete Townsend are others who have done many arty, pretentious things with rock, but also have at other times argued that the art discourse contaminates rock, weakens it, makes it pompous, addles it with self-consciousness

This distrust of art can be traced far back in the history of rock – almost to the moment  at which rock acquired self-consciousness and aspired to being art.

There was a point at which rock’n’roll shed the “‘n roll” -  people now talked of rock –and Dury and Lennon would come to see this shift as a tragic development.

Dury was obsessed with 50s rock’n’roll, worshipped Gene Vincent, hated hippies --– Lennon was totally the long haired hippy and then he decided psychedelia had been a huge mistake – he would  revert back to rock’n’roll, a stylized recreation of 50s music in its purity and innocence.

The lost or shed "n’roll" signified a teenage orientation, as lack of adult sophistication lyrically and musically,

It refers back to when rock’n’roll in the Fifties sense was at once rawer and more showbiz --  the pre-Beatles rock’n’rollers carried themselves on TV and radio in a well-behaved way, said “sir” to the hosts, whereas Lennon was ironic, informal, surly – a bohemian, 

As raw and rootsy as early rock’n’roll was, it was still largely entwined in the discourse of showbiz -- as the career of Elvis shows, the rebels collapse very rapidly into middle of the road entertainment.

Your typical 50s rock’n’roller didn’t see himself as an Artist but as an Artiste. The 'e' on the end is very significant. They saw themselves as entertainers, the groups wore stage outfits. Few of them were artistically autonomous in the way the Sixties rock era artists became: mostly they didn't write their own material and their managers pushed them towards light entertainment as soon as they could, becoming an all-round entertainer. 

The move to “rock”  in the mid-60s  is an aspiration towards thematic maturity,  a conception of lyrics as being a form of poetry or literature. But it's also about being artistically independent, in control. The  band as an artist that is growing, evolving, questing -- whereas entertainers basically have a shtick that they stick with. An act.

This mid-Sixties art-ification was described scornfully by The Fall’s Mark E Smith, speaking to NME in 1981: ”when the students got hold of rock’n’roll, that’s when it started going downhill” 

Prior to Beatlemania, middle class youth, even those who had loved rock’n’roll as teenagers believed that rock’n’roll was a fad that had faded away. When they went up to university in the early Sixties, they were either folkies or they were into jazz – these were the mature options

But then through the Beatles and the Stones and the electric Dylan, rock’n’roll returns in new improved form: the sound as raw as ever, but the attitude and content even more appealing through its poetic and arty qualities.

From approximately 1965 onwards, largely unchallenged until 1976, there followed an unbroken period in which there was a broad consensus that rock could be and should be Art -- the long reign of  progressive rock, art rock, singer-songwriter and sophisto rock – steely dan, little feat, joni Mitchell, ry cooder, randy newman  – even in something as seemingly lumpen as heavy metal you had the experimentations of led zeppelin, deep purple recording with a symphony orchestra  -- the interpretations of what art was ranged from jethro tull to brian eno and all points in between, but the overall consensus was that rock was art, potentially at least.

But you had a tiny sect of dissidents  – musicians as high profile as Lennon and barely known as Flamin Groovies. You had heretical critics.

The first pop writer to express a profound ambivalence about pop-as-art was Nik Cohn in Awopboloopbop abopbamboom,  published in 1969 – but written in 1968, placing him ahead of the pack, although there had been a handful of dissenters from the acclaim for Sgt Pepper’s.

It’s The Beatles and Dylan above all that Cohn is most suspicious of . In his book he sounds regular notes of disquiet. Dylan, he concedes “has grown pop up, he has given it brains” but he pointedly declares that “in my own life the Monotones have meant more in one line of ‘book of love’ than Dylan did in the whole of Blonde on Blonde” 

Revolver was a  “a big step forward in ingenuity” but a “big step back in guts” and “ because everyone copied the Beatles, ‘that’s why there’s no more good fierce rock’n’roll music no more honest trash”.   The posh Sunday newspapers—“ say they're  Art...  but after all, what's so great about Art? What does it have on Superpop?"

Superpop is Cohn’s superlative for everything from Little Richard to Phil Spector to  his personal pet artist PJ Proby. In the final short chapter of Awopbop he contrasts Superpop with rock after its shed the  ‘n roll

“What I’ve written about has been the rise and Fall of Superpop, the noise machine, and the image, hype and beautiful flash of rock’n’roll music. ... Superpop? It hasn’t been much, it’s been simple always, silly and vulgar and fake, and it has been a noise, that’s all. ... Superpop, it’s been like a continuing Western, it’s had that classic simplicity, the same power to turn cliché into myth. It’s had no mind of its own. All it’s ever done has been to catch currents, moods, teen obsessions, and freeze them in images. ... made giant caricatures of lust, violence, romance and revolt... it’s finished now, the first mindless explosion, and the second stage has begun..... Pop has split itself into factions. Part of it has a mind now, makes fine music. The other part is purely industrial, a bored and boring business like any other. “

This huge gulf  that’s opened up within pop is  a chasm between lowbrow and highbrow. It has reproduced within a once unified Superpop, aka rock’n’roll, the very  division between high and low that had once consigned all of rock’n’roll  to the category of junk, trash, mindless pabulum from the culture industry.  The market now, he says, is 80 percent manufactured teenpop for AM radio and 20 percent progressive music for FM rock – semipopular music, in terms of its sales.

Cohn: “ In ten years, they’ll probably be called by another name entirely, electric music or something, and they’ll relate to pop the way that art movies relate to Hollywood...., you’ll have pop composers writing formal works for pop choirs, pop orchestras; you’ll have pop concerts held in halls and the audience all sat in rows, no screaming or stamping but applauding politely with their hands; you’ll have sounds and visuals combined, records that are played on something like a gramophone and TV set knocked intot one, the music creating picture and patterns; you’ll have cleverness of every kind imaginable. Myself, though, I’m not interested. Not that I have anything much against masterworks in principle but I’m hooked on image, on heroics. It’s like films – the best in art movies have no doubt been the most sensitive, brilliant and meaningful works of art, and where have I been? In the back row of the Roxy, of course, gawking at Hollywood. The art movie carries the quality and Hollywood carries the myth.”

So here Cohn aligns Superpop -  in his view, true pop -  with blockbuster movies, pulp entertainment made by the Hollywood system.

Cohn offers here a very early form of what is now known as poptimism or popism:  a belief in the de facto  superiority of “good honest pop product”,  a trust in the major labels, who like the Hollywood system, to keep on churning out great entertainment precisely because they only care about money. Their output is  sublimely uncontaminated with artistic intent, it aims only to thrill and distract - and get your dollar.

This is one of two ways that the art-ification of rock has been resisted.

The first, the Cohn stance, is basically pro-capitalist, it folds pop and rock back into showbiz, sees records as units of commodified  pleasure, the performance as a spectacle. Performers and producers alike are seen as highly skilled professionals. There is a kind of cynical-realist integrity to this factory-line production of  good honest commodified entertainment. You can consume without illusions about it being meaningful or the harbinger of revolution. A sort of almost gustatory honesty in the way the consumer consumes, enjoys, and then forgets.  Pop is disposable. 

The other anti-art view comes from a completely different, anti-capitalist angle: it is folk-ist. Authentic music emerges from the people organically, reflects the worldview and concerns of that community. It then gets co-opted and commodified and eventually weakened.  Just as bad as selling out is when it gets gentrified. "Folk" ideology here is not necessarily tied to the formal properties of traditional music, to acoustic guitars and such. Folk-ism  includes urban conceptions of the folk culture: notions like the streets, the ghetto, as represented in rap or certain kinds of dance music.












Around the same time as Cohn published Awopbop, a  different dissenting view about rock-as-art was being formulated in America,  not Superpop and if anything leaning to the folk view in so far as it valued a certain primal rawness. Lester Bangs was the major prophet here although there were others such as Greg Shaw whose Who Put the Bomp magazine was one of Bangs main outlets, the other being Creem magazine.

Creem dubbed itself "America's Only Rock'n'Roll Magazine" --a jibe at Rolling Stone -- while Who Put the Bomp!'s had the slogan "rock & roll, all rock & roll, and nothing but rock & roll" . 

So that’s the reinstatement of the ‘n roll right there.

This vision of a return to rock‘n roll doesn’t have Nik Cohn’s mythic Hollywood Western pulp quality but it’s very teenage. Its a stylized, idealized version of adolescence, the inarticulate brutish juvenile delinquent – and a  rejection of the introspective sensitivity of singer-songwriters such as James Taylor in favor of the two-dimensional cartoon of boredom and lust and aggression offered by The Stooges.

Celebrating Iggy Pop and his band,   Bangs insisted that true rock'n'roll was "essentially adolescent music… it can't grow up";  he retrospectively celebrates the sixties garage bands he once despised and says that the bands he admired then, like the Yardbirds and the Who “ got ‘good’ and arty with subtle eccentric songs and fine philosophy...”   This pales next to  the Stooges debut LP and Funhouse  whose raw power  is “supermodern, though nothing near to Art”.

"Nothing near to Art" - like "art" is cooties, something to recoil from... a contaminant, a debilitator

For heretics like Bangs and Cohn, Sgt Pepper's was the sacred cow they aimed to slaughter. But ironically Lennon at the exact same time was moving in the same direction --  distancing himself from bourgie art and reinstating the ‘n’roll.

In the famous 1970 Rolling Stone interview, Lennon equates Fifties rock’n’roll with reality, a raw truth that cut through both socialized pretence and artistic pretension.  He asserts that nothing since has been better than simple 50s rock’n’roll and further, that the best Beatles stuff was in that vein: it was the music they made before they ever entered the recording studio – their live performances in Hamburg,

Lennon: "The best stuff is primitive and has no bullshit…  It's not perverted or thought about." 

What followed seemed to echo Hamlet’s mother exasperated suggestion to the verbose  Polonius -  “more matter, with less art”. So,  the primal venting of the Plastic Ono band album, then a different form of plain speech, Some Time In New York City,  lyrically blunt lyrics addressing sexism, racism, injustice,  Northern Ireland, over gutbucket rock with no frills. Lennon here makes a folk ist argument for rock as the people’s music,anticipating the sloganeering side of punk that included Tom Robinson Band or CRASS.  

Of course while he was going back to art-less rock’n’roll Lennon was up to all kind of arty shenanigans with Yoko both on record and in the public eye.  And these hopelessly unresolved feelings about whether rock could or should be art anticipated a kind of vital identity crisis at the heart of punk – a movement containing a high proportion of art school people, manifesting artiness everywhere from the clothes to the graphic art of flyers and record covers to–  yet often prone to anti-art and anti-intellectual rhetoric.

Malcolm McLaren  is a good case study – a product of the British art school system, attending three different colleges during the 1960s, he talked retrospectively of punk and the Pistols as  a gigantic art piece bearing his signature.

 “Rather than just while away my time painting, I decided to use people, just the way a sculptor uses clay,” he declared, airily.  

Epating the bourgeoisie via the mass media was Good Art. 

Yet when Johnny Rotten formed Public Image Ltd, its overt experimentalism was for McLaren a relapse into Bad Art:  1970s-style progressive post-psychedelic music, which he loathed. Like Lennon and Ian Dury, he adored 50s rock’n’roll,  Gene Vincent and Eddie Cochran. Postpunk was music for students. 

Of PiL’s Metal Box, McLaren sneered “He's asking you to take a course in music before you understand it.”  

Rock and roll, he said was "only a bloody Mickey Mouse medium really.” that was what was good about – its larger than life cartoon quality.  An echo of Cohn’s Superpop vision.

McLaren would argue with increasing vehemence in years to come that Rotten had always been a closet hippy, an aesthete, and that the true Pistol was Steve Jones,  working class, a petty criminal who stole  the band’s gear by breaking into the backstage area of a Bowie concert –wonderfully symbolizing the McLaren idea of punk as the working class’s revenge against art rock 

And also Sid Vicious, who had the ability to lose himself in a cartoon persona, become this mythic scale anti-hero, 

Lydon himself was totally conflicted on the subject of art. In a 1978 interview he spat: “I hate art. I can’t stand it”.  This despite having studied a course in art at a Further Education college. In the Pistols documentary The Filth and the Fury, Steve Jones described Lydon as “an intellectual" but he often mocked those who "intellectualized" things ( like Greil Marcus with his analysis of punk in Lipstick Traces). Lydon dismissed Situationism as "mind games for the muddled classes", a jibe not just at Marcus but at McLaren, fingered as the arty poseur trying to intrude fancy French theories into visceral rock’n’roll, and perhaps Pistols designer Jamie Reid, another art school product who probably professed to hate art.

The confusion comes I think from Lydon’s social background – working class, but encouraged by his mother to read from an early age, he was widely read, enjoyed taking exams, at the Further College Education college enjoyed talking to the teachers in the pub about Shakespeare. But at the same time a great wariness about becoming bourgeois, an exaggerated loyalty to one’s roots. 

A similar kind of ambivalence is detectable in The Fall’s Mark E. Smith -  both Smith and Lydon came from this abiding stratum in British society, this  liminal zone where upper working class bleeds into lower middle class, a precarious zone but the source of so much of the exciting energy in British pop culture, the social bedrock of mod, glam, punk

So Smith, like Lydon is a supersharp autodidact, a bookworm , who never went to university. He left school to get a low level white collar clerical job as a clerk. Throughout the Fall’s career there’s on the one hand a self-taught artiness (Smiths’ lyrical influences include  Wyndham Lewis,  the band would collaborate with the avant-garde ballet dancer Michael Clark) and on the other  perpetual sneering at their art school peers in postpunk,  at  music paper critics who over-intellectualise the band.

Early on The Fall actually had a song “Hey Student’ jeering at all the undergraduates in Manchester -- as well as typical working class contempt for freeloading  students with generous grants  it was a music taste based enmity.  I read before the quote about “when the students got hold of rock’n’roll, that’s when it started going downhill” . Smith then pointed particularly towards the Soft Machine and their Canterbury scene cohorts. These were mainstays of the early Seventies college gig circuit; Canterbury itself is the British city with the densest number of colleges in the country. 

 However when Smith realized that most of the Falls fans were students he changed  “Hey Student” to “Hey Racist” to fit the Rock Against Racism issues of the time. It was never recorded at the time of writing, but much later, for  1994’s Middle Class Revolt, “Hey Student” was resurrected: the old lyrics sneering at the students’s “long hair” were updated with references to Pearl Jam. (It's hardly the only example of studentphobia in rock).



What concerns Smith here is the eternal reopening of a social divide within rock – something that  first rock’n’roll and then early-to-mid Sixties British beat music and mod, and then again punk had managed to bridge. 

When this social divide opens up again it is invariably accompanied with the return of art discourse --  a classic instance is the split in mod between psychedelic artiness and the skinheads, who loved Jamaican ska, Northern Soul.

Psychedelia and progressive rock, then postpunk, and then in the 80s and 90s indie and alternative rock and shoegaze: this is the eternal breaking off a semi-popular, bourgeois form of rock. Exactly the same split that bothered Nik Cohn, although less in these social-political terms and more because the music he loved became enfeebled 

 As early as 1978, Mark E. Smith bemoaned an emerging chasm in the New Wave between arty intellectual bands (like Magazine) and “your headbanger bands for ordinary people.” A few years later, he argued that heavy metal was a healthier subculture than post-punk: metal kids didn’t spend all their time thinking about music. Attempting a kind of one-band reunification of the split halves of rock, Smiths’ vision for The Fall was a primitivist-modernism: they started drawing on rockabilly influences, talked of themselves as “a very retrogressive band in a lot of ways”, anything to short circuit there being enfolded in the  progressive discourse of postpunk.  "The band was attracting a lot of elitists, a lot of Eno-orientated crapheads”, Smith complained in one interview. Then there is the lyric that says "the experimental is now conventional".

Smith, like Lydon, was working class and, unlike Lydon, hadn’t dabbled in further education at all. But so powerful was the punk mythos of a reuniting of the classes through a stylized, dialectical reversion to rock’n’roll, that it had a powerful and enduring influence even on people who passed through the university system.  Such as Greil Marcus,  who wrote a whole essay called Against Art, launching off from a sneering stage comment by Penelope Houston of San Francisco punk band The Avengers  after they’ve come on following the avant-garde percussion performer Zev has finished – " what do you call that anyway? I guess it was Aaaart" 

Yet Houston was the daughter of an artist, she was studying at the San Francisco art institute.  Marcus himself trained to be a professor and is no stranger to museums and exhibitions and symposiums.  Nonetheless in “Against Art” Marcus talks approvingly about  “the instinctive distrust of art by pop music “ which is  rooted  in “the perception that very little art has actually added anything to pop music”. The only  exception he can think of is Andy Warhol’s Double and Triple Elvises

A similar idea is expressed by Bill Drummond, active in the postpunk era as a musician, record label runner, and manager– a former art school student himself,. In 1971 his mind was blown by a Warhol exhibition   – but then he changed his mind and the last essay he wrote at art college before dropping out was ‘Why Andy Warhol is shite and the Beatles are fab’.  If you got a single by the Beatles, your single was as good as anybody else’s. ‘Nobody’s copy is more original than your copy’.  But Warhol was only painting the pictures of the Coca Cola bottles, whereas the Beatles are being the Coca Cola bottles. “  

Warhol in the end was just the same as any artist, making singular artworks that then became collectable and valuable in the art market –  pop music was radically democratic, mass production art.  Warhol celebrated that –he once said “the idea of America is so wonderful because the more equal something is, the more American it is”—but cannily bottled it in a form that could play in high art and high society terms. In a sense Warhol made America play in European terms.

This antipathy to Art endured for Drummond  - his late 80s/early 90s outfit The KLF had a run of huge chart success with various pranksterish and absurdist singles – then in the 1992 they quit and then mutated into  the K Foundation, one of whose initiatives was to stage a parody of the Turner Prize for Art in Britain. In 1993 they presented a shortlist for their award for the worst piece of art, the shortlist being identical for the Turner’s shortlist for best work of art – and when Rachel Whiteread won her 20 thousand prize, the K Foundation gave her 40 thousand,  drawn from the royalties of hits like “Justified and Ancient”

The KLF’s big Nineties hits were in a style they called “stadium house”,  inspired by Drummond’s encounter with rave culture, in the UK was a youthquake on a par with punk or indeed early rock’n’roll. When I interviewed him in 1991 he talked of it in terms of a mass quasi-religious experience.  But it was mass in another sense: for a moment there between 1988 and 1992, a music that united youth across class lines.

Although  quite a bit younger than Drummond, my thinking is similarly shaped by punk, and my own baptismal immersion in rave culture, in 91 and 92, had a similar social-utopian dimension – the transcendence of class and race divisions in a new music that echoed the impact of rock’n’roll, mod, punk....   And the way it played out in terms of my subsequent critical writing on post-rave  electronic dance music involved this same old strange dance around the idea of art.

Even as I joined the party, rave was starting to fragment, the split between headbanger beats for the proles and fancy music with arty aspirations that Mark E Smith complained about in the late 70s, that was reconstituting itself –  despite my class and education, just through circumstances as a late arrival I found myself on the right side of the tracks, which is to say the wrong side of the tracks – captivated by the most lumpen, druggily hedonistic forms of  rave – hardcore as it was known then

Discerning folk deemed it a debased mutant of true techno -- but I, semi-consciously following in the footsteps of Cohn and Bangs, celebrated hardcore with a mixture of defiance and doubt in my own taste. “Trash but I luvvit” is the phrase I used in the first substantial piece on ardkore I wrote, in The Wire, late 1992.  

The idea was familiar: this impure,  sub-music could access barbarian powers that surpassed the more accomplished forms of techno then emerging . But because of my knowledge of critical history I was totally aware that this was a Lester Bangs move –  in some other writings I would invoke garage punk as an example of a once despised music that was subsequently vindicated as more prophetic of music’s future.

Nonetheless it was hard, so hard,  to resist reaching for the Art word, for there was a deranged twisted complexity to the breakbeat editing and  sinister atmospheres emerging in the music as it developed, It demanded recognition as an avant-garde.

The way around this fix for me was to imagine it as a street vanguard, ignorant of its own status as an avant-garde and all the better for that, more potent. 

So I used the word avant-lumpen. For a while I used the term “artcore”, punning on hardcore.

Bbut then within a year, as the outside world partly thanks to this kind of rhetoric by me and a few others, accepted and indeed hailed the music – now known as jungle or drum’n’bass --  a self-conscious deepness and musicality began to change the music.   I reversed on that move and looked again for the most lumpen, dancefloor functional, druggy sectors of the music  -- soon I was using the word “art techno” as a mildly disdainful word for a kind of album oriented home listening designed electronic music that drew on some of the hardcore/jungle innovations but presented them in palatable or annoyingly quirky form.

In Energy Flash I have a chapter on that zone, called Fuck Dance Let’s Art, a reversal of the customary expression, about my ambivalent feelings about art techno, what would later be called Intelligent Dance Music.

I was hopelessly trying to arrest the development of the music, which to me felt like a weakening, vital rudeness turned to devitalized politeness –  vibrant tastelessness reduced to inspid tastefulness. I was equally trying to shore up or recover a lost moment of unity that cut across class lines, also in the UK  very much crossing racial divisions too. 

I had found myself almost by accident inside a moment that was like punk, like the Beatles-Stones-Who moment, like rock’n’roll. “Art” was at once the accolade this music deserved, even the most trashy and ephemeral forms of it  ( like chaotic pirate radio transmissions I taped and which I described in my rave history Energy Flash as among my absolute most precious and venerated cultural artifacts of the 20th Century) and yet art was also the downfall, the betrayal, a terrible branding burden.

"Art" then as we’ve seen has this peculiar reversible status.

It seems to fit the profile of what Frank Kogan calls Superwords 

Kogan I should say is a classic example of the critic whose worldview is shaped by punk and is unable to resolve his feelings about art, on the one hand railing against what he calls the PBS-ification of rock, a creeping gentility, which led him to celebrate all kinds of teenpop and most recently the ultraplastic pop of South Korea. On the other hand he has compared the lyrics of Ashlee Simpson to  the poetry of Dylan and Patti Smith.

The  ‘superword’, explains Kogan is  "a word that causes controversies, that gets fought over, that sometimes runs on ahead of its embodiments; a word that seems to jettison adherents" 

Punk is a good example, a prize everyone is seeking to claim and define as they see it. 

But “art” , in the rock context, is even more fraught than a superword

There is an attraction-repulsion syndrome that surrounds the term, in the rock discourse. Art is a birthright that you’ve been cheated of and that you chase, right up until the point it is acquired, when it is immediately renounced, it becomes toxic, repugnant.  

Another way of  looking at the role the word art plays in rock discourse is supplied by Donald Kuspit’s book The Dialectic of Decadence 

According to Kuspit, “in modernity, every novel art is at first taken to be non-art, but once it is finally accepted as art – which it would not have been had it not been novel and uncanny enough to seem like non-art – it is understood to have failed or fallen short of Art as such, and is dismissed into art history” -

Decadence is a state of debility, the depletion of instinctual energy, and its replacement by irony, detachment,  an over-developed sense of history.  Hence the never-ending need for an influx of barbarian energy from "outside"

Art looks to non-art for renewal – as Warhol did with the images and trademarks of mass production and commerce.

In the beginning, all  of rock’n’roll was on the right, which is to say,  wrong side of the boundary – the non-art side --  trash, noise, jungle music, all rhythm– at once savage and industrial, raw like folk and manufactured like showbiz.

Then, in a triumph that is simultaneously a defeat, artistic value was conferred on it  -- and so the ever-recurring need is to get beyond that pale again. Which is also to rejoin the real world, to get out there, away from the white walled rooms, and to merge with and transform everyday life – become plebeian.

Rock and pop still seem to figure as a repository of raw power  in at least one place: the imagination of a number of  contemporary artists, where it serves as the non-art reservoir that revitalizes their practice and staves off decadence.

For Retromania I interviewed the British reenactment duo Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard.

Their work includes restagings of rock gigs like the final Ziggy Stardust concerts, a Cramps gig at a mental asylum in California – Forsyth and Pollard were at pains to convey that they didn’t get inspiration from art but from music –  they got into reenactments simply because they wanted to create an art work that had the visceral excitement of indie rock gigs – for them the rock gig is something like the situation as it figures in Situationist theory: not a passive spectacle but participatory, an event. To amp that up they were drawn to reenact the most event-like events, such as Bowie’s final concerts as Ziggy Stardust. 

So why not  form their own band, if rock has the power that art doesn’t? Well interestingly they said that they felt the art world had less strictures than the music industry, which is where they earn their living, working for a record label.

Another British artist expressing similar feelings is  Elizabeth Price -- unlike Forsyth and Pollard she’s a former musician, but now  she’s  artist whose video installations borrow from advertising and pop sources like the Shangri Las, an influence on her own band Talulah Gosh. This recent video work was a reaction against boredom with her own work in installation and sculpture – she told The Wire magazine, “I was interested in doing something that had a less academic and polite address” . Most modern art is “cool, measured, it’s outside of things... it has no relation with the actual social lives we exist in” whereas a rock gig is “loud, it’s hot, you can smell other people’s bodies,  you feel the bass in an embodied way... exactly the things that had been evacuated from art”



Price,  Pollard, Forsyth, are all old enough to have come up through indie rock when it was still shaped by punk’s recent memory and its inherited value system –  their idea of rock’s social power comes from a similar place to Frank Kogan’s or Greil Marcus’s or Bill Drummond’s. 

But it is noticeable that as the folk memory of punk  and of the mid-Sixties and rock’n’roll, has faded,  so too is that distrust of art that Marcus wrote about approvingly, that Drummond enacted, that Bangs took for granted...

Gradually there has been a growing resignation towards the very thing that Nik Cohn found intolerable – the division between industrialised chartpop, brainless if entertaining trash, and a separate zone of “fine music”, which is totally comfortable with seeing itself as art.

One index of this shift has been the rise in the last decade of the term “curator” within left-field rock, I write about this in Retromania, how activities like selecting a compilation, or booking a festival, are now described as curation – in the underground you also have what I’ve called the ETSY-ification of rock, a micro-culture of limited edition releases with handcrafted packages, elitist both by necessity and by choice -- music that lies somewhere between art and the artisanal.

And then less obscurantist but still very much aimed at a discerning minority there has been the rise of NPR rock.

Kogan complained about the PBS-ification of rock, but NPR has become a huge force in alternative music, they are actually a driver of sales, they have preview streams of major Pitchfork-type albums on their website.

One of the NPR stations in LA,  KCRW invented a programming template they called Morning Becomes Eclectic that has been super influential  –  the mix is alternative music, but not the noisy types --nearly always well produced, tasteful,  and yes eclectic, made by new breed of band who draw on a whole wide world of influences and also all across music history – so they are both cosmopolitan and they have a rich sense of the music as heritage -- --  the presenters of the shows speak with calm, almost hushed tones, like the news program hosts on other NPR sentences.

When I listen to it I feel vaguely catered for, precisely targeted as a demographic –– and there’s a discomfort, similar to the feeling I’d get at art-techno events in the late 90s. I missed the vibe of raves but mainly I would feel restless because the last place I want to be is where I’m surrounded by people who are just like me

I can take about 30 minutes of KCRW and then I turn to the pop stations, the banging brainless club music that rules the top 40 and then when I start getting Adorno-like feelings about that ... I turn to the classic rock stations, where you can get music that at its best seems to like fragments of a lost unity -- but only because it is old music, very old music in some cases.

But the most interesting music of today seems to totally comfortable with seeing itself as art and as minority interest – along with “curation” as a model for music-making,  there has been the rise of the concept-musician – not completely analogous to the conceptual artist, but there are certainly similarities -  musicians like James Ferraro, Onehotrix Point Never, John Maus, artists on the Ghost Box label, invariably there’s a spiel accompanying each new release -- framing of the project is increasingly essential --  you’ll even get  a group now and then  that actually has a manifesto --  Prince Rama, a female duo who have this concept “ghost modernism” and composed a text entitled The Now Age: Meditations on Sound and the Architecture of Utopia

Another figure getting a lot of attention at the moment is Julia Holter,  a CalArts raduate, whose electronic pop on albums like Tragedy and Ekstasis is informed by her interest in Greek tragedy and Medieval icons. Tragedy included a song called “Try to Make Yourself a Work of Art”  while on her website she used to offer something she called HANDMADE THING, a CD-R and a sculpture for 25 dollars.

Increasingly with these zones of music, where micro-genres terms float by fleetingly such as chillwave and witch house – I can’t help thinking of  Tom Wolfe’s The Painted Word... there’s a sense that we’re heading into a place where the music can’t actually be enjoyed or even felt without the intervention of a concept.  A certain kind of music-journalist and blogger loves this kind of thing, it gives them something to riff on and riff off  - read some of the blogs and webzines that specialize in this area of music, like Tiny Mix Tapes and it reads a lot like prime period  October.

Sometimes I’m one of those music journalist / bloggers and other times I feel a disquiet about where all this is going....

It’s an easy thing to fall into a  mutual admiration mirror image syndrome --the new breed of concept musicians think like critics, you see  --  Amanda Brown, who records as LA Vampires told me, "when I make music, I'm only interested in thematics. I think, "What do I want to present? I'm trying to make a certain statement. And that takes it out of emotionality and more into a cerebral place. 'Meaningful' becomes more of an adjective than 'soulful'. "   Brown actually describes herself as "not a musician" but an "audio artist".

This sensibility is all the more striking because it’s emerged out of indie rock culture, which always leaned towards a shambolic lo-fi slacker aesthetic -- towards a vague populism, or at least “beautiful loser”-ism.  

But the self-image of the audio artist appeals I think for a number of reasons. Doing this kind of music is almost never a livelihood these days – even putting out a large number of limited edition releases per year doesn’t generate much revenue

But the work gets a much wider listenership and critical and blog response through its being illegally shared and downloaded. So the prestige of being taken extremely seriously and widely talked about in some way compensates for the fact that is not a means of making a living. 

Certain albums, like James Ferraro’s recent album Far Side Virtuality get discussed and talked about and regarded as momentous in a way that far out-stripped the record’s actual sales.  Circulating through the blogosphere, it becomes almost like a virtual exhibition – something everyone has to have heard, in the same way that Christian Marclay’s The Clock has to be seen, if just for an hour or two, so you can participate in the cultural conversation. 

But Marclay, operating properly in the art world, has actually monetized his art. The concept musicians I’m talking about are a long way from being able to do that – and at the same time, these artists have largely opted out of the traditional routes for rock bands to claw their way towards financial viability, the gig circuit.

The logic that you should expand your audience, that you should move from semipopular to real popularity, was once an ethical imperative, especially in the years following punk when the consequentiality of rock was restored, the sense that it had the power to change the world

That logic of out-reach was what seemed to push Sonic Youth,  against their bohemian nature and their innate artiness, towards signing with Geffen - getting themselves onto MTV and playing bigger venues and rock festivals.

The modern day equivalents to Sonic Youth – these concept musicians and audio artists --seem  reconciled to the idea of semi-popularity, culthood.  

All those hang-ups about art have faded away.  

The  'n’roll  has long gone, and the rock is evaporating pretty fast too.  

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Hexmas - M.E.S. on the festive season

MARK E. SMITH

(mini-interview as part of The Observer's package feature on the kind of Christmas being enjoyed by famous people with the name of Smith)

The Observer, December 23, 1990


by Simon Reynolds


Given his curmudgeonly image, you might expect Mark E. Smith to regard Christmas as a time to endure rather than enjoy.

"I don't mind it," he says. "I'd like it more if it was just for a couple of days. But when the whole country shuts down for two weeks, I find it gets on me nerves a bit. Christmas in this country just drags on and on. Apart from that, it's okay. You can't knock it, can you?"

Mark E. Smith's group, The Fall, are something of a post-punk institution. But, unlike most institutions, The Fall don't stand for anything.

In the 14 years of their existence, they have recorded a gargantuan body of work as demanding, wayward and cryptic as Dylan's, while Smith has been a perennial and voluble presence in the music press.

His Northern bloody-mindedness and bracing inflexibility of character has been reflected in The Fall's coruscating sound — and his views on the so-called festive season.

"Usually, I try to get away altogether. I try to avoid the claustrophobia of being cooped up with the family, and all the arguments," he says.

"This year, though, I'm spending it with my mum, 'cos she's on her own."

And how about the grisly business of giving? "I do all the present buying the day before Christmas. I'm not much of a shopper. I go by instinct. On Christmas Eve, the shops are clear.

"Overall, I enjoy New Year much more than Christmas. I used to live in Edinburgh until recently, and I like the Scottish attitude to New Year. I have a lot of friends up there — real friends, who don't know who I am, if you know what I mean."

Smith migrated to Scotland from his native Manchester after splitting up with his American wife, Brix, last year. During Brix's stint in the band, The Fall shifted somewhat in the direction of pop, and even enjoyed some chart success.

Now 32, Mark E. Smith says he's enjoyed the return to the single life. "It's fantastic, and I need space to work in anyway." Meanwhile, Brix is pursuing a solo pop career and has been romantically linked with violinist Nigel Kennedy.

Smith has his own connections with high culture. The Fall have collaborated with Michael Clark, most notably in a genre-trashing ballet, called I am Curious, Orange, in 1988.

Currently Smith is working on a musical, the details of which he prefers to keep under wraps. It's indicative of the singer's contrary nature that if anybody else in rock had dared to make similar dalliances with high art, they would have been lashed with his most scathing derision.

Smith has often fulminated about how rock 'n' roll was ruined when the students and art-college kids got hold of it. And he's long been the music press's token anti-liberal.

His out-of-kilter notions and pet bigotries are relished as an antidote to the right-on pieties of the alternative scene. In interviews he's typically to be found ranting about how wholemeal bread tastes like dust, or why nuclear weapons are preferable to conscription.

"I think aloud when I'm doing interviews," says Smith. "Sometimes the things I say are just a wind-up, but they get taken seriously. But if you're looking for an illiberal quote, then I can tell you that I believe we should be at war with Iraq right now."

If Smith has a creed, it's probably a kind of brass-tacks scepticism, a thoroughly old-school British distaste for humbug and cant.

"There's two things wrong with Britain nowadays," he says. "There's too much media, TV is too much in charge. And everybody's starting to take politics seriously again, now that Thatcher's gone.

"I was always brought up to think that politicians were all as bad as each other, that they were all idiots. I always thought that the good thing about Britain was that everybody thought politics didn't matter, whereas in Europe they think it does."

With his cut-the-crap nature, does he find Christmas nauseatingly twee? Or does he have a secret sentimental streak?

"Well, I'm actually a very nice bloke, I'll have you know. I tend to get written up in a particular way. Of course I have a sentimental side, perhaps overly so. I have a family and all that. I'm just about the only man left among 80 women. All the menfolk are dropping off like flies."

This Christmas, it seems, "our Mark" will be smothered firmly in the ample bosom of his family.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

"the spark inside" - me and others on Mark E. Smith and The Fall

my first Fall record

Below is all my writing on The Fall (well, nearly all of it) in chronological order of the releases, rather than the order in which they were written.

There is also a links list to my favorite pieces of writing on The Fall by other people, mostly from the early days of the group, including Barney Hoskyns's 1981 interview and K-punk's trilogy of essays.

And there is an interview transcript with Martin Bramah on his time in The Fall and the young M.E.S. 

Oh and there's also a couple of choice snippets of M.E.S. on M.E.S.

                                            

                                                                                                             the Fall's most perfect record 

Out of my own writing, the missing bit here is the only time I actually interviewed Mark E. -  a piece that was part of a whimsical Observer package feature about how people with the name Smith were spending Christmas!  Had a look for it but it must be languishing with the hefty chunk of the Reynolds archive that's in storage (couldn't face bringing all that paper - there's so much of it - with us to LA when we moved - a decision subsequently regretted on a monthly basis). This phone interview with M.E.S.  would have been 1990. There wasn't a a huge story there to be honest - Mark was spending it with his mum and he was looking forward to being pampered and doted upon by various elderly female relatives. As others have reported, despite his reputation, Mark was unexpectedly pleasant. Indeed at one point, when I brought up the subject of his  image as a surly, doesn't-suffer-fools-gladly curmudgeon, he said "I'll have you know, Simon, I'm actually a very pleasant man."  UPDATE NOVEMBER 1 2018: HAVE NOW ADDED THIS PIECE TO THE SELECTION BELOW.

                                         


The Fall's greatest record

Oh, the other missing bit of course is Rip It Up and Start Again's Manchester chapter "Just Step Sideways" which is largely about The Fall and Joy Division. Which you can find in... Rip It Up and Start Again. But below I do include  a snippet from  Rip It Up's prologue -   a quote that has been circulating a fair bit in the last few days.




in some ways, on some days, my favorite Fall record

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^




The Fall
Live At The Witch Trials
Step Forward
eMusic, 2004

by Simon Reynolds

In one early song, The Fall’s frontman Mark E. Smith exalted “the three R’s--repetition repetition repetition” The Manchester postpunk band got their schooling in trance-inducing monotony from The Velvet Underground and Can. On Witch Trials, their 1979 debut album, you can hear Television too, in Martin Bramah’s spidery, needling guitar lines, while Yvonne Pawlett’s glue-on-fingers keyboards make you flash on punkadelic Sixties garage bands like The Seeds. Now and then, on slower songs like “Two Steps Back”, there’s also a sense of disorientation and strangeness that recalls the early Doors. For Smith, seeing the world through askew eyes wasn’t an affliction, though, but a reprieve from the crushing mundanity of life in a Northern English factory town, evoked here on “Industrial Estate”--an uproarious rant about an area of Manchester zoned for heavy industry, where the ground-down workers numb themselves with Valium. 




To escape this living death, Smith and company turned to their own chemical remedies.  
“Underground Medecin” is a paean to amphetamine: “I found a reason not to die...” rejoices Smith, “The spark inside”. “Frightened,” conversely, evokes the downside of drugs: in this case, the racing thoughts, sleepless sweats and twitchy paranoia caused by snorting one white line too many. Smith’s rapid-fire snarl and see-through-you sneer have all the hallmarks of the “speed rap”. 


That’s probably what he’s referring to in the song title “Crap Rap 2” (although some have actually argued that Smith’s unique style of half-spoken delivery is an authentic English equivalent to rapping!). In that song, Smith famously defined The Fall as “the white crap that talks back”--proles who refused to buckle down and accept their allotted fate in the British class system. It’s a mission statement that pungently distils both the group’s spirit of insolent defiance and the crudely-hewn but indomitable force of their music.  









THE FALL
Bend Sinister
Melody Maker, October 4th 1986

by Simon Reynolds


The Fall have not stopped being The Fall. It's all here, on this their 26th long playing record: the wizened sneer, the unforgiving beat, the haggard guitar. The Fall roll on.

A vast body of work, around which a million words have been spilt, and still I don't feel nearer a notion of what they're about. The Fall don't represent or propose anything. They cannot be recruited to any scheme, clarified or filed away. They are this stubborn thing.

What spikes the lumbering wrath of The Fall is the vehemence of Mark E. Smith's invective. But these days even his targets remain shrouded and unclear. While The Fall's music has grown steadily more vivacious and approachable, Smith's writing has folded in on itself in an ever denser scrawl, beyond deciphering, let alone understanding. Sometimes the obscure object of his derision is recognisable as ... people like me, and then I'm suitably, pleasurably, chastened. The Fall, on leash, as periodic flagellation: "Who makes the Nazis? Intellectual halfwits." Ouch. I needed that. Perhaps that was the only thing I ever learned from Mark E. Smith.

The Fall are an example of the extent to which indie music has become a kind of commentary on pop -  a system which purports to represent us, but in fact excludes most of our experience. Indie-pop is a kind of parallel system, unacknowledged by POP, but bound in reaction. Like, say The Smiths, The Fall write about all the matter - squalor, maladjustment, antagonism - written out of pop's script. If Mark E. Smith represents anything it is bloody-mindedness, a recalcitrance towards those who would improve us out of our bad habits and prejudices.

They've been a bad influence. Groups like The Membranes and Age Of Chance think that anyone with "attitude" can get up and do it. The upshot of this is a kind of bolshiness without manifesto, an aimless spite: musically, a narrow interpretation of The Fall - beauty is a lie. These groups consist of nothing but anti-pop gesture. 

The Fall are un-pop too -  anti-dance, anti-spectacle, un-sensual -  but they have carved out a rival territory of alien beauty that they can exploit indefinitely. If the broad sweep of this music has been established, there's still endless scope for growth through internal complication.


Bend Sinister, their thirty-third album, shows that the Fall have a long way to go before they're exhausted. You've probably heard their version of "Mr Pharmacist", with Mark's great slovenly delivery, like his mouth was half-full of mushy peas. There are other indications that The Fall have been steeping themselves in Sixties garage music of late. Tracks like "Gross Chapel" sound as though The Fall have taken the wiry truculence of garage punk and bloated it into a juggernaut sprawl. "Shoulder Pads" is driven along by an absurdly jaunty keyboard riff that makes me think of Question Mark And The Mysterians.

As it becomes less and less clear what Mark E. Smith is on about, so The Fall's noise has come to seem more and more unearthly. When I listen I don't think of grime and rubble and delapidation, like I used to. I don't think of much at all. It's a noise to lose yourself in, something that clouds the mind, roughs you up a bit and leaves you a little deranged.






THE FALL

New Statesman monthly 'Pop' column, April 1st 1988

by Simon Reynolds







The Fall
Seminal Live
Melody Maker. 1989

by Simon Reynolds









Mark E. Smith

(mini-interview as part of The Observer's package feature on the kind of Christmas being enjoyed by famous people with the name of Smith)

The Observer, December 23, 1990

by Simon Reynolds

Given his curmudgeonly image, you might expect Mark E. Smith to regard Christmas as a time to endure rather than enjoy.

"I don't mind it," he says. "I'd like it more if it was just for a couple of days. But when the whole country shuts down for two weeks, I find it gets on me nerves a bit. Christmas in this country just drags on and on. Apart from that, it's okay. You can't knock it, can you?"
Mark E. Smith's group, The Fall, are something of a post-punk institution. But, unlike most institutions, The Fall don't stand for anything.
In the 14 years of their existence, they have recorded a gargantuan body of work as demanding, wayward and cryptic as Dylan's, while Smith has been a perennial and voluble presence in the music press.
His Northern bloody-mindedness and bracing inflexibility of character has been reflected in The Fall's coruscating sound — and his views on the so-called festive season.
"Usually, I try to get away altogether. I try to avoid the claustrophobia of being cooped up with the family, and all the arguments," he says.
"This year, though, I'm spending it with my mum, 'cos she's on her own."
And how about the grisly business of giving? "I do all the present buying the day before Christmas. I'm not much of a shopper. I go by instinct. On Christmas Eve, the shops are clear.
"Overall, I enjoy New Year much more than Christmas. I used to live in Edinburgh until recently, and I like the Scottish attitude to New Year. I have a lot of friends up there — real friends, who don't know who I am, if you know what I mean."
Smith migrated to Scotland from his native Manchester after splitting up with his American wife, Brix, last year. During Brix's stint in the band, The Fall shifted somewhat in the direction of pop, and even enjoyed some chart success.
Now 32, Mark E. Smith says he's enjoyed the return to the single life. "It's fantastic, and I need space to work in anyway." Meanwhile, Brix is pursuing a solo pop career and has been romantically linked with violinist Nigel Kennedy.
Smith has his own connections with high culture. The Fall have collaborated with Michael Clark, most notably in a genre-trashing ballet, called I am Curious, Orange, in 1988.
Currently Smith is working on a musical, the details of which he prefers to keep under wraps. It's indicative of the singer's contrary nature that if anybody else in rock had dared to make similar dalliances with high art, they would have been lashed with his most scathing derision.
Smith has often fulminated about how rock 'n' roll was ruined when the students and art-college kids got hold of it. And he's long been the music press's token anti-liberal.
His out-of-kilter notions and pet bigotries are relished as an antidote to the right-on pieties of the alternative scene. In interviews he's typically to be found ranting about how wholemeal bread tastes like dust, or why nuclear weapons are preferable to conscription.
"I think aloud when I'm doing interviews," says Smith. "Sometimes the things I say are just a wind-up, but they get taken seriously. But if you're looking for an illiberal quote, then I can tell you that I believe we should be at war with Iraq right now."
If Smith has a creed, it's probably a kind of brass-tacks scepticism, a thoroughly old-school British distaste for humbug and cant.
"There's two things wrong with Britain nowadays," he says. "There's too much media, TV is too much in charge. And everybody's starting to take politics seriously again, now that Thatcher's gone.
"I was always brought up to think that politicians were all as bad as each other, that they were all idiots. I always thought that the good thing about Britain was that everybody thought politics didn't matter, whereas in Europe they think it does."
With his cut-the-crap nature, does he find Christmas nauseatingly twee? Or does he have a secret sentimental streak?
"Well, I'm actually a very nice bloke, I'll have you know. I tend to get written up in a particular way. Of course I have a sentimental side, perhaps overly so. I have a family and all that. I'm just about the only man left among 80 women. All the menfolk are dropping off like flies."
This Christmas, it seems, "our Mark" will be smothered firmly in the ample bosom of his family.

THE FALL
New York Times, 11 July 1993
by Simon Reynolds 
The Fall are one of England’s enduring cult bands. Formed in 1976 by the singer and lyricist Mark E. Smith, it evolved into one of the most critically acclaimed and influential groups of the post-punk era. In the mid-80's, the Fall was the prototype for the abrasive British genre of ‘shambling bands’. More recently, its coruscating sound and cryptic lyrics have been a major influence on the indie scene in the United States. Pavement, the most prominent band in the burgeoning American lo-fi underground, is indebted to the Fall, as are other up-and-coming groups like Truman's Water, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 and God Is My Co-Pilot.
The Fall has signed with the hip independent label Matador, and the band's new album is its first for some while to be widely distributed in the United States. The Infotainment Scan (Matador/Atlantic 92263; all three formats), the Fall's 16th studio album, is one of the group's most accessible, so it may be that the band will reach a whole new audience, primed by Pavement, et al.

In its early days, the Fall was infamous for being listener-unfriendly. The second album, Dragnet, plumbed new depths of bargain-basement recording. On subsequent landmark albums like Grotesque (After the Gramme), Slates and Hex Enduction Hour, the Fall wove a dense, forbidding but – for those who persevered – captivating trance rock. Over implacable rockabilly rhythms, the band layered a thick wall of droning, distorted guitars in the tradition of minimalists like the Velvet Underground and the German band Can.
The Fall also experimented with techniques that involved degrading the guitar textures and distorting the human voice; one of Mr. Smith's favorite tricks was to feed his voice through a megaphone. He dubbed the band's style "country-and-northern," making a link between the raw primitivism of the Fall's sound and the surly attitude that's often attributed to the natives of Manchester, his hometown in the north of England.
Lyrically, he offered a bilious, withering dissection of British society. But instead of sloganeering, his songs immersed the listener in the grimy textures of working-class life. A self-educated avant-gardist from the wrong side of the tracks, Mr. Smith devised a distinctive fractured style that recalls the cut-up prose of William Burroughs.
As the 80's progressed, the Fall veered closer to pop with albums like The Wonderful and Frightening World of the Fall and This Nation's Saving Grace and even scored a number of chart hits. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith became a reliably controversial interviewee for the music press. His persona remains that of the classic British misanthrope, who scorns humbug and political cant whether it comes from the left or right. Mr. Smith's intransigence is best exemplified by his fervent belief in a man's right to kill himself smoking.
Musically, The Infotainment Scan may be one of the Fall's more approachable records, but Mr. Smith's lyrics are as caustic as ever, while his wizened sneer of a voice will always be jarring. Not for the first time, he aims his ire at what he regards as fatuous or regressive tendencies in pop culture. ‘Glam-Racket No.3’ takes a potshot at the current British youth trend of 70's revivalism. Over a fuzz-drenched riff and a stomping beat that's pure homage to glitter rock circa 1972, Mr. Smith decries nostalgia and makes a pointed jibe at the nouveau glam-rock band Suede, which is hugely popular in Britain.

The Fall's version of the Sister Sledge disco classic ‘Lost in Music’ may also conceal a pop-culture critique. The song was always an ambivalent commentary on dance culture's escapism (as well as the life of the professional musician), and Mr. Smith is probably using it to deride the British rave scene, which – like disco – is "caught in a trap" of druggy hedonism and mass amnesia. Paradoxically, the Fall's version retains much of the shimmering fleetness that made the original so enchanting.
The album's second side sees the Fall continue the flirtation with rave rhythms and the squelchy synthesizer textures of techno that it has indulged in on recent albums. Contemporary trance-dance has an obvious fit with Mr. Smith's early creed; "repetition in the music, and we're never gonna lose it." The song ‘Service’ layers an eerie mesh of vocal harmonies over a limber, shuffling funk groove. ‘The League of Bald-Headed Men’ seems to be a diatribe against gerontocracy, although it's hard to decipher whether its target is the decrepit fogies who rule Britain or the baby-boomer superstars who dominate international pop.

‘A Past Gone Mad’ is an anti-nostalgia rant layered over state-of-art techno squiggles and a hyped-up hip-hop beat, as it to proclaim that the Fall isn't afraid to move with the times. The band never has been, but the secret of its continued relevance is that the Fall never bends with the times. Mr. Smith and his band absorb whatever in the cultural climate is worth bothering with (what's not, he invariably scorns in song or interview) and make it swing to a rollicking, remorseless beat. Here's to the next 17 years of the Fall.


from the prologue to Rip It Up and Start Again: Postpunk 1978-84 (2005)   in a section where I'm discussing postpunk as a era of unprecedented innovation in terms of vocal delivery and lyrical style

The Fall's Mark E. Smith invented “a kind of Northern English magic realism that mixed industrial grime with the unearthly and uncanny, voiced through a unique, one-note delivery somewhere between amphetamine-spiked rant and alcohol-addled yarn.”




from the aptly titled Totally Wired: Postpunk Interviews and Overviews, a portion of the interview concerning the early Fall, with original member Martin Bramah



"... That’s what drew those elements of what became the Fall together--a common interest in obscure music. I remember when I first met Mark Smith, he was listening to the Doors. I had thought initially the Doors were a band like Bread--some American soft rock band!

Did you immediately become friends with Mark?

He was always Mark, always as he is perceived now--even before he created the persona.  Naturally a strange person to try to get know. I knew his sisters before I knew him. Aged 16, I was around at his house visiting his sisters and I was interested in the music that was coming out of the front room. He was sitting there with his girlfriend Una who ended up playing keyboards for us. He’s the kind of guy you skirt around initially. Very wary of people and quite aggressive, but obviously quite eccentric as well. He was this kid who wore a black leather jacket with a Nazi swastika arm band--before punk rock! He’d walk around Prestiwch like that--more to make a statement than anything. It was just perversity. He wasn’t a fascist or anything.

Weren’t members of the Fall actually communists, at one point?

We weren’t a political band in any way that made rational sense. We were just kicking against the system that was imposed upon us. If Mark wanted to piss people off he’d be a Nazi. It was a heavy Jewish area, Prestwich. Lots of wealthy Jews there… But Tony Friel, the bassist, was a member of the Communist Party. And there was that socialist ethic.

But Mark Smith himself was never CP?

Not as such. He’s not one for joining clubs. He’s contrary by nature. He’s always bucking the trend—he’s like, ‘you think you’ve got an answer but it’s not necessarily so. You’re kidding yourself, wake up and check out this angle’. His natural impulse is to upset you and disturb you, which is what I liked most about him—but it does make him hard to work with!

The Fall had that song, “Hey Fascist”, right? Not a fraternal greeting, but a put-down!

It was originally called ‘Hey Student’! Mark hated all the students in Manchester. At that point  we had the biggest student population in Europe . But then when we did Rock Against Racism Mark changed the lyrics to “Hey Fascist” because he thought it might go down better that way. 

Was Mark’s objection to students that they were square and middlebrow in their music taste?

Because he didn’t go to university, I suppose it’s the inverted snobbery of the working class kid sneering at the privilege of students. It’s just teenage kids thinking it would be funny to make a statement. It seemed irreverent.

You mentioned Tony Friel, the Fall's original bassist… How did you come across him?

We went to the same secondary school. I met him when I was 12 and I was attracted to because he was this eccentric kid who got picked on a lot, but he had this wild imagination. He’d always be in the corner of the playground telling these wild stories and scribbling in notebooks. A crowd of people would gather to listen to his mad flights of fancy.

So you were this gang of friends into weird music, and then you became The Fall?

We were already writing together before we discovered Sex Pistols. We had a musical empathy. Felt we had an insight into music. And were obviously pickled in all kinds of drugs. Taking a lot of LSD and magic mushrooms and really exploring music. We’d be in Mark’s attic, reading poetry and making noise on instruments We were all non-musicians. But we didn’t have a drummer and at the time it was impossible to conceive of doing gigs locally. What the Sex Pistols did was make us realize we could do it. Up until the Pistols, all the bands that played gigs came from out of town. They’d play at the Free Trade Hall or the Apollo. We’d turn up and sneak in the back door or sometimes pay for a ticket. But when the Pistols played at the Lesser Free Trade Hall we thought, 'we’re as good as that'.  So we immediately advertised for a drummer and threw a set together. I met Pete Shelley at this club called the Ranch Bar and told him we had a band, and he and Howard Devoto and Richard Boon, their manager, came to see our first gig at Northwest Arts. So the next gig was supporting the Buzzcocks.


Up in Mark’s attic, you were reading poetry?

We thought we were beatniks. We liked to dress in black, and we loved the Velvets. We loved the idea of Beat poets. Reading Burroughs and French existentialists, Aleister Crowley and WB Yeats. We were writing poetry because we weren’t writing music to start with. We all wrote words then. Bursting with talent, we were!

And you were already exploring psychedelics?

That was the culture in the clubs in mid-Seventies Manchester.  The 60s hippies happened and by the 70s, it was a way of life. There were a lot of casualties around but we were the next generation of kids. We saw all the hippies who’d blown their brains out and we felt we were wiser than that, but we were attracted to the experience. We learned from the kids who were older than us, people like John Cooper Clark. He was 10 years older and from that 60s generation When we discovered him living down the road from us in Prestwich, we started hanging out together. 

The Fall’s name comes from Camus, so despite being anti-student, you were far from anti-intellectual.

Not at all. We thought all your originality was knocked out of you at University. We were keen to learn what was interesting but we didn’t want to be force-fed. We’d all rejected what little education we had. I played truant whenever I could. But I was being primed to be factory fodder. We were fired up and keen to find out things for ourselves.

Initially we originally called The Outsiders, also from Camus, but then we realized there were three other bands called that. So we chose the Fall. It was Tony Friel’s influence, he was reading Camus. Mark’s idea for a name was Master Race and the Death's Heads. If he had got his way, history might have been very different!

Didn’t the name The Fall also embody a kind of concept or attitude? It has evocations of decline, the decadent phase of a civilization, but also the intimation of comeuppance--the mighty being toppled. The schadenfreude of watching the powerful being brought down.

It’s hard to define the concept of the Fall. We were trying to get to the bottom of things and express what was really bugging us. Mark was the one with the real vision, and that vision quickly became the Fall, but initially it was a real melting pot. It was like a poetry group at first. We used to share our innermost feelings in words and play our favorite albums. Mark bought a guitar but couldn’t play it.  I was already singing in another band so the first line up of the Fall was me singing and Mark playing guitar. It quickly switched because Mark was writing these mad, well-observed lyrics.  Our early stuff sounded American but Mark picked up on how to make Manchester interesting. 


In Manchester music generally there's long been that Northern patriotism thing--down with the effete, wanky South. Especially London.

It was more about expressing ourselves and getting the uniqueness across. We loved what was happening in New York. For me as a guitarist, Tom Verlaine was a big influence. And we loved the stuff in London too. But we didn’t want to imitate it. Mark managed to embody our angle on what was relevant. Some bands stumbled when they tried to politicise punk, but Mark saw that was silly and limited. We tried to leave that behind and explore the music from before punk that was more diverse. We listened to a lot of dub reggae and a lot of German music.

As a guitarist, did you have any particular ploys?

I was a self-taught player. Tony Friel was a better musician than me so he gave me some of the rudiments--how to make a bar chord. I was into discord, getting away from the regimented and the sterile. We were inspired. We knew instinctively that we could do it, and we wanted to do something different and make a primal statement.

So the first actual released thing by the Fall was on the Live at the Electric Circus compilation, and then there was quite a delay before the first EP, Bingo Masters Break Out!  got released on Step Forward. How did you hook up with that label?

We’d already recorded that first EP by the time of Electric Circus, but it didn’t get released for a year. I’m a bit vague about the Step Forward connection. Mark was managing the Fall along with Kay Carroll, his girlfriend. It was s London-based label and owned by Miles Copeland. By then I was kind of just the guitarist in the band. I just turned up and played.

So was that why you ultimately became frustrated and left? Mark taking over and The Fall becoming his band?

The Fall had been together for two or years, but it was a very intense period. We’d done a lot of work and received a lot of attention from the media. It was becoming very much Mark’s thing. I was sick of the way we were being treated as a band. What was initially a collective became a dictatorship. I felt full of confidence and ideas and was keen to do exactly what I wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, I think Mark’s a genius but he was making it very hard for me to work with him. Mark’s not a musician so he couldn’t literally tell me what to play. He could only tell me what he didn’t like. But he had a vision of how he wanted it. But it wasn’t so much about the music, it was more how we were being treated as people on a daily basis.


And your last contribution to The Fall was writing three tracks on the second album, Dragnet?

I wrote three of the songs that went on Dragnet but I didn’t play on it. I left after Live At the Witch Trials.

And by that point, all the original members had left, apart from you and Mark?

We all left for our own reasons, and at different times, but when you look at it now there wasn’t much of a time lag between. Una Baines left about a year before me. Karl Burns, the drummer, left somewhere in between. Tony Friel was the first to go. Tony left when Kay became the manager because he thought it was a bad idea. He felt he’d invested a lot in the Fall. He’d come up with the name and he was the musician in the band and in his view he was teaching us how to play the bloody instruments. He left because his freedom was infringed. And he went off to form the Passage with Dick Witts.  

You know what, I think it was initially me that suggested Kay manage us. She was a friend of Una’s and she was hanging out with us, and she seemed level-headed. She was a bit older than us. At the same time, Mark was starting to go out with her. It  became a bit of a Yoko and John Lennon scenario. The girlfriend affirming his genius. Mark needed that encouragement, so I’m not saying it was all bad. But it’s the typical girlfriend interfering in the band scenario. But we didn’t all gang up and leave. At the time we all thought it was for individual reasons.

So was it tough for Una, having gone out with Mark, and now he’s dating her friend, and the friend is managing the band?

It was Una’s decision they broke up. Mark was more hurt by that. When I first met them Mark and Una were a real item—first love, teenage true love. They were an inseparable item. Then we formed the Fall and Una started seeing other people. She was off everywhere doing things and she kind of left the Fall thinking it wasn’t an important thing.....

You and Una then formed the Blue Orchids - did you see the group as the vanguard of a new psychedelia, music for "heads"? 

You can’t play down the influence of drugs on Blue Orchids and The Fall. The first drugs we got into was strong LSD. Pot smoking seemed lame back then--hippie guys who sat around stoned and did nothing. We were anti drugs at first and thought we could reach the psychedelic thing without the drugs. But in a club someone gave us some microdots, when we were about 16. The next day we went to Heaton Park and dropped it and spent the whole day on LSD. Heaton Park is a stately home, the nearest thing to a common in Manchester. And then we discovered psylocibin mushroom were growing in Heaton Park for free.  Someone told us that there were fields of these mushrooms. So from that point we were kind of pickled in magic mushrooms and LSD. We just made it our own. It was a free source of entertainment. We’d be munching these things and sitting in pubs and seeing the world in a strange way and getting ideas for songs about our local environment. The Fall was like Coronation Street on acid.




A Blissblog post from 2022: 

The Fall as sound / the sound of The Fall

During last week's agonisingly protracted and inadequately achieved eviction of the tapeworm-tenacious Boris, a couple of Fall-memes started circulating: 

"There have been 66 ex-members of The Fall in 40 years. There have been 42 ex-members of the government in the last 24 hours." (In the event, the total number of resignations topped 50).

And (purporting to express the PM's unfazed response to the welter of cabinet resignations)

"If it's me and your granny on bongos, it's the government".

The last one, of course, is a twist on something Mark E. Smith said in 1998, at once a quip and a serious claim to proprietorship:  

"If it's me and your granny on bongos, it's a Fall gig"





















T-Shirt with truncated and grievously mis-punctuated ("bongo's", ugh) version of Mark E. Smith's quotable.

That got me thinking again about something that's been loitering in the back of the brain for some time now. For sure, M.E.S. is the sole common denominator running through The Fall's history and discography. And yes, Smith dominated his musician-minions and drove the whole entreprise along with his vision and cantankerous personality. 

Still, it feels lopsided to me, the way that - when it comes to serious critical discourse - Fall-scrawl almost uniformly, and seemingly unavoidably, boils down to Smith-scribble.

Case in point: the relatively recent publication Excavate! The Wonderful and Frightening World of The Fall. A gorgeous looking book, Excavate! includes essays from some of the sharpest commentators ever on Mark E. Smith and his wayward way with words. And it's an illustrative feast: record covers, lyric sheets, posters, flyers, zine pages, press releases, fan club missives, music press adverts...  The scope of the written content is incredibly wide and rich: there's pieces on Northern working men’s clubs and Northern factories, the urban geography of Greater Manchester, M.E.S.’s love of supernatural and horror fiction, parallels between The Fall and football fandom...

Yet curiously, amid all the words and all the images, there is a near-absence of the Fall as a sound – as the work of musicians.

There is more wordage expended – an entire essay, in fact - on Wyndham Lewis, that jaundiced-eyed  literary-modernist ancestor to M.E.S., than on what actual Fall members Martin Bramah and Una Baines and Tony Friel contributed. 

More on pre-cog than on the cogwork of Hanley + Scanlon + Riley.  

                      

                             Close up zoom from this - back cover of  the first Fall album I ever owned

                              

Of all Excavate!’s toilers at the Smith-y, Mark Fisher is better on this score than most, in so far as fairly regularly he’ll evoke the sound of the records or offer an insight as to what distinguishes the group as a musical proposition. But for the most part his K-punk masterwork, the three part epic "Memorex for the Kraken" - is a tour de force of maniacal exegesis. 

This tendency to treat The Fall primarily in terms of the lyrics  - something to be annotated and intertextually cross-referenced to other writers, to once-current affairs, to myths and folklore, to long-gone gossip, and even to long-gone music journalists –  recalls nothing so much as Dylanology. 

Secondarily, after the text and the context, the focus is on M.E.S. as public persona and one-of-a-kind personality - his eccentric opinions, his crooked perspective. 

Sound - even Smith as a sounding instrument in his own right, Smith's voice as an aural texture and set of self-invented incantatory techniques rather than a literary voice -  comes a distant third. 

The fact that his tangled spools of spiel reach us embedded in guitars/bass/keybs/drums can start to seem almost incidental. You might even come away thinking that another medium could have served Smith's vision just as well.  Or at least, it is rather too easy to take the sonic backdrop for granted -  to carry on as if the real thing to think about is the torrent of verbiage. 

That said, I don’t know if I’ve done much better in my own various Fall scrawls. In the reviews, and in Rip It Up, there’s a bit more of a sense of the band as a rhythmic engine and textural scourge. But Smith is irresistible! The knotty lyrics, the interviews with their caustic swipes and inversions of gliberal commonsense (my favorite ever =  Smith's loathing of wholemeal bread - "tastes like dust!"). And because the group's sound is a bit of a changing same, it’s easy to let it slip into the background, as if the Fall really were just M.E.S.’s backing band, the parchment for his unholy writ.

I am ashamed to admit that the names Craig Scanlon and Marc Riley do not appear once in my entire book.  (Steve Hanley does, but only in a photo caption!). 

The first incarnation of the Fall gets more namechecks – and actual quote-time (Bramah, Baines, Friel were all interviewed). But then that first Fall were more of a group-group, a democracy, for a while.

Still, even later on, with the roadies-turned-players firmly under the singer-leader’s thumb, barely ever allowed a peep or squeak in print interviews, I would venture that it's more accurate to say that Smith fronts the band, rather than that the band backs Smith. A subtle distinction – but this noise is too insistent, too rough, too odd-angled, to slip into the singer's subservient shadow. 

Could it even work, Smiths’ voice, disentangled from the thicket of this ramshackle racket?

I set myself a mental exercise: would I listen to the Fall’s music – its peak music – that string of singles from “Bingo Masters” and “Repetition” to “I’m Into C.B.” and “Cruiser’s Creek”, albums like Slates, Hex, Wonderful and Frightening – without Mark E. Smith? Could I enjoy an imaginary dubstrumental mix?

You know what, I think I would. Of course that might be because I’ve heard it all before, so many times, with the singer integral and inseparable from the music. So perhaps I'd be ghosting his presence by memory, filling the gap.

And then the converse mental exercise: would I listen to M.E.S. on his own, delivering these same words, without the Fall's music?

Possibly. But unlikely. I don’t go in for spoken word much. And listening to the two Smith-without-Fall albums – The Post Nearly Man and Pander! Panda! Panzer! – I would say, he really needs the band.  Not just a band, but that band (dim memories here of being unswayed by the Von Sudenfed project with Mouse on Mars).

And then the final thought-experiment. Would I read Smith on the printed page, without the band, but also without the sound of his voice – without Smith as vocal-musician / magician? Doubt it, honestly. At the best of times, I'm not  much into rock-as-poetry collections  - rock lyrics detached from the rock.

These speculations are beside the point, though. It’s not even clear the Fall’s music could exist in the form it does, or would ever have existed at all, without Smith animating it, bullying it into existence,  or without the direction he gave his minions about that riff or this beat. The Fall belongs to a select  category of postpunk outfits where a non-musician plays a crucial role as aesthetic shepherd and ideas-editor - John Lydon and PiL, Ian Curtis with Joy Division, David Thomas in Pere Ubu.

You’d also have to take into consideration what the former Fall musicians -  The Fallen as Dave Simpson called them in his book of interviews with ex-members - did after Mark. Doesn't add up to a lot really. The exception is The Blue Orchids. But then Bramah & Baines were in the original Fall, contributed to its emerging gestalt, and then pursued their own poetic-mythopoeic-shamanic vision that flowered so wondrously with The Greatest Hit.

But it is a peculiar thing - this relative silence about The Fall as collective sound rather than as one man’s vision.

Tunes like “Middle Mass” (and the other tracks on Slates - as astonishing a reformulation of guitar, bass and drums as the first Television album) have yet to get their full due. Same goes for “Bug Days” on The Wonderful and Frightening World – the whole of that record's second side, really. And same goes for Hex's “Iceland” and “Just Step S’Ways” and “Who Makes The Nazis” and “Hip Priest” .  


Perhaps it's up to musicians to do the close analysis of what is happening with the guitars and bass and drums and keyboards. That type of craft-oriented knowledge seems likely to reveal as much about why we keep listening to these records as, say, an expert on H.P. Lovecraft. The reason to listen to this music is right there on the surface of the sound, rather than something you need to backfill with annotation.

(This new fan's effort, the blook You Must Get Them All: The Fall On Record, while discographically exhaustive, is not really what I'm looking for, judging by the bits I've seen). 

(The actual musicians in The Fall, so long silenced and sidelined in the music press coverage, have been piping up in recent years - Paul Hanley and Steve Hanley offering memoirs and the-making-of- books. Again, while the fly-on-the wall and nitty-gritty recording stuff is probably interesting, I'm not sure it's quite what I'm looking for, which would be closer to an Ian Macdonald-type analysis from outside, rather than a Geoff Emerick I-was-there recounting. Inevitably, these memoirs appear to have a lot of M.E.S. anecdotes and bad-working-practices stories, which again bolster Smith-centricity) 






The Fall sound – primitive and avant – is one of the great instantiations of the recurring mystery of the band. The emergence of a band-voice (different from the human voice that rides on top of it, although the band-voice should include that singer's - or speak-singer's - voice). That curious melding of timbres, tones and mode of motion that means you can recognize a great groop within less than a second, almost as soon as the needle drops in the groove. Somehow disparate elements cohere into an entity. Components that far more often than not accreted haphazardly, through happenstance: because of who knew who, or who happened to have a particular needed piece of equipment, because of geographical proximity, because of the randomness of who answered an ad or whether the phone got picked up or the ad-placer was at home when the interested party knocked on the door. This arbitrarily selected set of differing abilities, taste profiles and personalities miraculously manages to find a small area in which they converge, become one. It’s especially eerie and magical when the timbres of a singer and a guitarist meld (Morrissey + Marr).

And this magic is almost impossible to recreate after the band has disintegrated. Especially if the scattered members are rebuilding from a position of previous success. That enables each ex- to pick and choose. New recruits are less like equal accomplices in the venture and more like subordinates. They  tend to be highly skilled and chosen for their ability. The newly solo singer, or guitarist, is calling the shots. The resulting mentality is not that of a gang or quasi-family but more like executive/proprietor + employees. In such circumstances, it's vastly harder for a band-voice to emerge – that confined area of common ground in which the band finds its sound and then runs through the finite scope for its evolution. The new hired hands are too capable, too versatile;  they can play anything, and so they do. 

The Fall Mark 2 could have easily been like that, but the group weren’t that renowned yet, and Smith shrewdly, or instinctively, went with the close-to-hand, the roadies - still unformed, therefore moldable, able to cohere and evolve together as a unit rather than an aggregate of established highly-skilled players. The result was effectively the reformation of the band and the settling into its true, distinct and enduring sound. (Much as I love the singles on the Early Fall 77-79 comp and Live At the Witch Trials). 

As part of this exercise, I decided to listen to the Fall's uuurrv in chronological order - all of it, or as far as I could get before exhaustion got the better of me. Would it change my perspective on the highs and the lows?

Strangely, it almost completely confirmed the existing feelings. I did remember something I'd forgotten - what a rattling, crackling live album Totale's Turns is (a record I originally had on cassette taped off a friend's copy). But apart from that...  Dragnet, for some reason still, don't know why, never quite clicks with me. But everything else from "Bingo Master's Breakout!" through to Hex, remained in its exalted place. Then interest flagged, just like it did originally in historical real-time, with Room to Live and Perverted By Language. Only to recover dramatically with The Wonderful and Frightening World and attendant singles. After that, though... Well This Nation's Saving Grace, Bend Sinister, "Cruiser's Creek" and some of the other Beggar's-era singles are still pretty exciting. But then we reach that long late Eighties stretch of Kurious and Frenz and Extricate - and this was where I had to halt the exercise, on the cusp of the '90s.  Again, this replicated how I'd felt at the time: the pummel had become predictable. Only the occasional oddment grabbed the ears on this go-round. Like this Stranglers-ish anomaly. 





But no, I wouldn't bother listening if it was just Mark E and an OAP on bongos.  The Fall is a Group. Or was a group, when it was great. 

As someone on Twitter said, in response to the "If it's me and your granny on bongos" T shirt:

"If it's Scanlon, Hanley, Hanley, Burns and Smith, then it's the Fall" 



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

As so often, it takes Paul Morley to risk heresy and raise the unthinkable thought:  “What if he wasn’t a genius, he was just an old drunken tramp that when he got really drunk started to spout phrases that made a kind of sense, and we read too much into it, you know?” 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^





M.E.S. taking the piss  - or reflecting his actual views? Probably both.

A more expansive version of same 1983 manifesto




Going back to where this blogpost started.... my doubts about the excessive focus on M.E.S....  about Smith as a font of anything related to wisdom, clear sight, or sense - this has been affected by the suspicion that he'd very likely have voted for Boris and the Tories in the last election (he certainly wouldn't have gone for Corbyn). After all, he was in favor of Brexit - "I thought it was great... Still do". 

C.f. John Lydon piping up last week to say how much he admires Jacob Rees-Mogg for his well-bred courteous mien - and calling for a return to "civility" in politics!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Although I once reviewed a Fall live album, strangely I only ever saw the band live once, despite their hard-working persistence and their guest-list blaggability for a working journo. And that one-time encounter was  relatively early in the career. In 1982 they played a venue in Oxford called Scamps, located in Westgate shopping centre. Most of the week it was a discotheque, but they did put on NME-ish type bands once a week. At Scamps I also saw 23 Skidoo, Haircut 100, and, according to an old letter I found recently, Orange Juice (got no recollection of that gig at all). To my eternal frustration / contrition, I missed the opportunity to see The Birthday Party - an actual party took precedence that night. 

The Fall at Scamps, though - one of the most intense, cochlea-blistering gigs I've ever experienced. My ears were ringing for days after.  

And naturally the Fall websites have the full lowdown - it was April 26th 1982, it was the Hex Enduction Tour, and there's even a set list (and apparently somewhere an actual tape of the gig, if I felt like reliving it).

Look, Know

Mere Pseud Mag Ed

Fantastic Life

Tempo House

Wings

Backdrop

Joker Hysterical Face

Solicitor in Studio

Who Makes the Nazis?

Hexen Definitive

And This Day

Lie Dream of a Casino Soul

Prole Art Threat


And here's a poster 

































And here's what they sounded like in Holland only a few weeks before the Oxford gig. 




Addendum 12/13/2022

And supporting my contention above, here's a new anthology,of scholarly work 
Always Different, Always the Same: Critical Essays on The Fall - judging by the table of contents, again there is this slant towards text and context. Some chapter titles:

‘A letter so simple, yet disgusting in a stroke’: writing-out the (typo) graphic strangeness of The Fall 

Psykick Dancehall – the paranormal world of Mark E. Smith and The Fall

"What’s a computer?” Corpus linguistic software v the complete Fall lyrics.

"Searching for the right word or phrase that would put a chill up the spine… Investigating the lyrics of Mark E. Smith using thematic and corpus-based discourse analyses." 

"Literary Perversion"

Other chapters seem to largely concern the cult of M.E.S. or his anti-hero, renegade status

The word "music" pops up just once in a chapter titled "I Am Damo Suzuki Lost In Music"  

This not necessarily completely indicative of the actual contents of the chapters, but.....  


Fall Writings By Others

The best things I've read on The Fall are still Barney Hoskyns's revelatory interview-essay and live review for New Musical Express in 1981, here preserved at subscription-only Rock's Back Pages. A non pay-walled version of the interview can be seen here. 



Mark Fisher at his sharpest in this klassik K-punk series of pieces Memorex for the Krakens: The Fall's Pulp Modernism.  Also an unfinished talk written by Mark to be delivered at a Fall conference in Salford in 2008, but never delivered owing to family bereavement. 







A vivid feature on The Fall in Iceland circa making of Hex Enduction Hour by Melody Maker's Colin Irwin


Another good piece - by the late great Richard Cook, in NME. Also his review of Hex Enduction Hour.




Dave McCullough (where's he now?) on The Fall same year, in Sounds


Andy Gill's excellent piece on on The Fall, 1981, NME

Dave Simpson in the Guardian writing about tracking down every former member of the Fall (a lunatic project that turned into his highly enjoyable book The Fallen)



M.E. Smith in his own words - Portrait of the Artist as Consumer, NME


Not properly scanned the obituaries and tributes as yet but here's Geeta Dayal's for NPR and a tribute from Sasha Frere-Jones for Village Voice.

And here's a  lovely tribute / memory-session from Jon Wilde (formerly Jonh Wilde, of Melody Maker renown) who interviewed Mark E. Smith no less than eight times, at We Are Cult website.





The Wire have constructed a portal to a heap of the magazine's writing on The Fall, including Stewart Lee's primer to their discography, interviews by Tony Herrington and Samantha Batra, and Simon Ford's account of the group's formation. 

Finally, more Fall thoughtage from me +  information + links at the Rip It Up and Start Again Footnotes blog










Mark E. Smith and rave - from a Rebellious Jukebox column on his fave records, Melody Maker 1994 July.













































graphomania as record design - the untidy mind of M.E.S. writ large

























M.E.S. liner scribblings as mise en scene for the music - styled as screenplays or script frags



















































 M.E.S. track-by-track comments in the throwback style of liner notes from the 1960s and earlier  except these are gnomic tangents, cryptic and/or barbed asides...