How well I still remember my first Fall gig. It was April 8, 1998. My friend Jen and I walked over to Brownies on Avenue A and saw the notice on the door: "Tonight's Fall show is cancelled due to Mark E. Smith being arrested." Not much of a performance really, but certainly one of the more memorable gigs I've attended. (Look, I'm writing about it 6 years later!)
That, of course, was the end of that particular lineup of the Fall, ending the long run of veteran bassist Steve Hanley, and the shorter stretch of once-more-returned original drummer Karl Burns. (Surprisingly, keyboardist Julia Nagle didn't leave right away, even though Smith was arrested for assaulting her.)
When the Fall next returned to the United States in 2001 (Smith and three brand new members), I went to check them out at the Knitting Factory. I was feeling ill that night, and though I enjoyed the Rapture's opening set immensely, by the time the Fall hit the stage I was sweating unpleasantly in the packed club, and supporting myself against the back wall. Perhaps it was because of my illness that I thought I hadn't enjoyed the show. To clarify: the Fall played, the new guys did a decent job, but Smith seemed mostly indifferent to his surroundings. The show only lasted about an hour, interrupted by Smith walking off briefly at one point.
I thought it was okay, certainly not the worst gig I've been to, and I was glad to have seen them finally, but I wasn't too impressed. As the week went on, and I felt better, I realized I was thinking about that show a lot. The Rapture's great set faded from my mind as time went on, but I kept thinking about the Fall. I became obsessed with my memory of the gig, I starting playing the albums I had again, and decided that if they came back again, I would have to go, just to sort out how I really felt about them.
It would be nearly three years before I would get my chance (I couldn't make any of the dates on last year's tour). The advance word was troubling: Mark E. Smith had broken his leg and hip only two months ago (his hip? - how old is everyone these days?), and did two British shows from a wheelchair. And at these shows, they played with two bass players, as they were breaking in yet another new member, who would be making his first appearances on this U.S. tour.
I was excited nonetheless, and one way or another, I would know for sure if the Fall were a worthwhile live act.
The show began with a looped bass riff that went on for about 10 minutes, during which it occurred to my friends and me that we could have gotten up on stage and started playing, and no one would have known we weren't simply Fall lineup #800.
Finally the band got on stage, without Smith, and started playing. Bands at Maxwell's have to walk through the audience to get to the stage, so Mark hobbled through on crutches with some assistance soon after. A table and chair were set up for him on the stage, and about halfway through the first song, he sat down. He wore one black glove, and remained seated until the end of the set, when he got up to make some noises on the keyboard (the Fall has a keyboardist again, and again the role is assumed by a girlfriend or wife of Smith).
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The set began with two songs from the new album, the very descriptively titled The Real New Fall LP Formerly "Country on the Click." Right from the start of "Green Eyed Loco Man," I thought this show was better than the 2001 gig. I think the sound at Maxwell's is better than that at the Knitting Factory, so that was a factor, but there was a cohesion to the band that was definitely lacking last time. Guitarist Ben Pritchard, who signed on in 2000, seemed to lead the band, leaving Smith free to rant and mutter without distraction.
Typical of such a contrary old bastard, the nearly crippled Mark E. Smith delivered a more engaging performance than he did at his ambulatory gig 3 years ago. By "engaging performance" I do not mean to imply that he was cracking jokes or high-fiving the audience, just that he was putting a lot into his delivery, and seemed to be enjoying himself. There was some whimsy in the setlist as well. In addition to playing a lot of the new album (never one to rely on the back catalogue, this Smith), there were three covers: the perennial favorite "Mr. Pharmacist," along with the Move's "I Can Hear the Grass Grow," and a bizarre take on Frankie Valli's "Walk Like A Man" (they were doing this one before Mark's accident, so it wasn't just a joke about being able to walk at all). Older stuff included "Mere Pseud Mag Ed" and, from This Nation's Saving Grace, "I Am Damo Suzuki." The latter started up again after it was over, for some reason, to the disappointment of no one. The set ended with "Dr. Buck's Letter," from 2000's "The Unutterable." There was no encore, presumably so Smith would not have to fight his way through the crowd and back again. (Too bad, because I understand they've been playing "Big New Prinz" lately.)
In final analysis, this was a great gig. Curmudgeonly old nutter that Mark E. Smith may be, he may also be truly brilliant. His career has been one of the few dedicated to a singular artistic vision, a vision which it may actually be impossible for him to compromise. Not to mention that the crazy fuck is touring America with a broken leg and a broken hip!
Next time around, I may try to see every local show.
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