At precisely 7.30 p.m. some sort
of synthy sound blasted over the P.A. and The Fall trooped onto the stage.
“We are The Fall, from the long,
long days. Not used to the countryside, they’re half asleep…group. They’re so
happy to be here……in Salford of Manchester. They think they’re in such a great
place.”
This was Mark E Smith, looking like
Ken Barlow’s older/younger pisshead brother, dressed in what can only be
described as a pair of slacks, a blazer, a fetching sky blue jumper and a white
shirt. Littlewoods catalogue circa anytime between 1965 and 2015. Not sure if
there actually still is anything like a Littlewoods catalogue anymore. I know
this isn’t a book about fashion although some description at this point doesn’t
probably go amiss.
I had no idea what Mark E. Smith
was going on about. Not a clue. But it was good to see them back on stage again
after all those missing years. It was strange as it was the first time that I’d
seen them in the day time and outdoors instead of some ungodly hour in a (back
then) tatty smoke-filled club.
Mark E Smith hadn’t lost any of
his customary charm with the technical crew. He waved an arm in the direction
of the missing desk.
“Thanks for turning the monitors
down. On the desk. Cunt.”
Now that was certainly something
that would not be broadcast by the BBC.
“Here we go,” he shouted into two
microphones he was holding and they launched into “My Door Is Always Open” from the “Post Reformation TLC.” It was a great start, all driving drums and
chopping and twanging guitars. Sometimes you know when you’re about to see a
brilliant show, right from the very first note, something instinctively tells
you it’s going to be good. This doesn’t just apply to The Fall of course. You
know it when you‘ve listened to too much music and been to too many gigs.
Although Smith messed around with
two microphones throughout the first song, he kept the knob twiddling to a
minimum, only wandering over once to an amp and half-heartedly messing around
with the settings. This was a good thing because I’ve seen Fall gigs where he’s
been getting close to whipping a soldering iron out his jacket and rewiring
stuff half way through a song and I believe that tendency has not diminished at
all in the last few years.
There was a lot of jumping around
from what was by now quite a large crowd. A large crowd comprised of what might
be termed indie folks. Not indie kids but indie folks. There was a smattering
of people about my age and indeed most of the crowd looked like they were well
over 30, if not a lot older. A lot of long-term Fall fans forged from the white
heat of 1980 and post-punk. A veritable Saga gig. Not the Canadian prog rock
outfit, but the well known insurance/cruise/holiday specialists catering
exclusively for the over-50’s. It wasn’t all bald old men however because there
were enough kids in their early twenties to drag the average age of the crowd
down to about 45. These kids were the ones who were by and large doing most of
the leaping around in front of the stage. Well, you can’t really expect all us
old Fall fans to be doing that sort of thing, can you? Dodgy knees and bad hips
are a bit of dampener on moshing. Nodding heads is as good as it gets. I
noticed a few cans getting thrown through the air. Only a few mind. A bit of a
token gesture and one that took my back to the halcyon days of 1978 when you’d
spent a lot of your time at gigs ducking nervously as cans of Skol would be
flying hither and thither. I turned around and peered towards the back of the
field. While there were a few folks wandering around on the periphery, it
seemed almost as full as it had been for Spiritualized the evening before.
The Fall had recently released a
new album, but you could say that at any time as they’ve done that every year
for the past 35 years or so. And like a lot of Fall albums, it was critically
praised as “a return to form.” For me that kinds of begs the question as to how
can it always be a return to form? Every time? It’s a bit of a contradiction
really. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no form to return to in respect of The
Fall. Anyway, this set at Glasto was their opportunity to flog the “Sub-Lingual Tablet” album to a whole
new audience, not just at the Park Stage, but across the net on the BBC and on
the TV. I wasn’t wearing those rose-tinted glasses that blinded me to the fact
that commercial considerations would surely enter Mark E Smith’s mind somewhere
along the way.
It didn’t matter to me though.
The new album, whether it was a return to form or not, was a cracker and after
the first song they played three songs from it; “Venice with the Girls”, Dedication Not Medication” and “First One Today”, all rattlingly good
tunes (in a Fall way), and one that kept the set bouncing along at a good old
pace. Smith gurned, grimaced and indeed, grinned his way through them all and
the band, while for me, not hitting the heights of the Fall in the early
1980’s, were tight and solid. At least they took his limited on stage mixing
with good grace. There is always for me something that sets The Fall apart from
all other bands, some sort of Northern taut mysticism that‘s impossible to
define or indeed quantify, but it’s always there. The essence of The Fall.
Fall-ness.
Halfway through the set and at
the end of “Junger Cloth” (another
new song), Smith grabbed the guitar neck of the lead guitarist and shouted down
his microphone, “Dropout, dropout. Go, on you can do it. Go on! Droput!”
For a second I again hadn’t a
clue what he was on about. More alcohol induced ramblings? But as the band
looked at each other somewhat quizzically before the drummer kicked things off,
it dawned on me that they had launched into Captain Beefheart’s “Dropout Boogie.” The Fall covering
Beefheart at Glasto? Could it get any better than this? And it wasn’t even
raining! The sun was out! I couldn’t stop grinning to myself!
It was a sublime, growly version
of it as well and hit the mark perfectly. As it came to a crashing end a stray
thought came to my mind. How much would have John Peel loved to have seen and
heard it?
A great moment tinged with a certain amount of sadness.
There wasn’t much time for an
overt displays of sentimentality because they rounded off the just under an
hour long set with the classic “Sparta
F.C.” ( a cue for what had become a quite large crowd to go collectively
bonkers) and finished off with “Auto Chip
2014-2016” (the best song from the new album and surely a future classic as
well.) During the latter Smith wandered backstage with microphone in hand for a
good few minutes, something that might have surprised anyone who was new to The
Fall, but something which was pretty much expected for seasoned Fall watchers.
But after 54 minutes it was all
done. A full set by The Fall at Glastonbury. Something I didn’t think I’d ever
see. The fact that it didn’t end early or that it actually started at all was a
bonus. As for the rest, all I can say is that I’m certainly not going to leave
it another 15 years before I see them play live again. For purely rational
reasons mainly. I’d be 68 and Mark E Smith, if he was still alive, and that is
a moot point, would be in his early seventies.
In passing, I do have a sneaking
suspicion that Smith plays the pisshead that can’t be stopped, the man with the
bionic liver card a bit too much. I have no basis for this save that being an
intelligent and quite savvy chap it’s to his advantage he gives out the
impression of being an old soak and therefore somehow more or different than
just a talented wordsmith with a knack for being ahead of the curve. It seems
like his art comes naturally to him, it’s something natural and unforced
whereas in reality, I think he works very hard at it. He knows exactly what
he’s doing. Yet this is just a theory and I’ve nothing to back it up at all.
Speculation and nothing more.
"Feels Like Going Home" - the fourth Glastonbury book is available here both in Kindle or paperback formats..
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Feels-Like-Going-Home-Glastonbury-ebook/dp/B018J1PAMY
