A couple of randoms herein, from my time 'filling various unspecified tour duties' with the Fall, while also running the band's information-service, at the behest of Mark Edward Smith and editing nine issues of The Biggest Library Yet fanzine, which was originally conceived (and previously edited) by an affable chap going by the name of Graham Coleman, who hailed from north London.
In my own completely humble and unbiased opinion, Graham made a much better job of putting TBLY together than I ever did... and in truth, if I was to be (overly) generous, I'd probably give myself somewhere between four and a half and five out of ten for my efforts as an editor.
I heard from an old friend earlier this year, who aims to put the entire back-catalogue of fanzine content on 'The Fall Online' website and fans forum in due course... and I reckon that then, you'll be able to see just how piss-poor issues 11 to 19 were for yourselves.
There was a semi-completed issue 20, that had Lee 'Scratch' Perry on the cover (for reasons that I won't bore you with) but any remaining traces of that were ceremonially shredded and thrown out in the recyclable rubbish bin many years ago... and that was the best place for it too!
Having read several posthumous thesis' and critiques on the subject of TBLY and a further dissection of it's raison d'etre in a chapter of a book about the Fall, that was dedicated to the tome (people really shouldn't have taken the 'zine so bloody seriously, I never did). I would have to say, that in regard to these ill-informed commentators, confused onlookers and even the detractors, they all missed the bleedin' point of what the essence of TBLY (and numerous offshoot projects) was/were all about and their collective overview amounted to one big steaming heap of inaccurate and speculative nonsense.
But at least I got to have a good laugh about it all, while chuckling about the fact that anybody still actually cared enough about the fanzine, after the passing of so much time, to go to such lengths to pour over it's contents. I guess their efforts say far more more about a few people's sad-life existences than they ever will mine. No offence intended of course, fuck-faces!
In particular, I felt that those pontificating at length over something that was merely a glorified quarterly newsletter with bells on, totally misunderstood and overlooked the ironic and more often than not, tongue in cheek, self-depreciating angles that our subject matter was often approached from.
Even though, in the main, such a context was blatantly bloody obvious.
Maybe, I should've included more pictures for these individuals with far too much time on their hands, to colour in.
I've never felt the inclination to put the record straight, because when all is said and done, it was only a fanzine, not any sort of historically important document. and it's actually quite sad that anyone felt the urge to bask in the fading afterglow of somebody else's non-event.
There are a good few very well written books vis. the Fall, by ex-group members... and of course, Hip-Priest, by Simon Ford, is an indispensable work, as was his previous publication: Wreckers of Civilisation: The Story of COUM Transmissions & Throbbing Gristle. In fact, the TG book was so good, that when Mark loaned it from me, he kept it!
TBLY was, in the words of Mark Perry, the editor of 'Sniffin' Glue' fanzine and front man of Alternative TV (who I've always actually preferred to the Fall): "A wank-mag for Fall obsessives". Spot-on that man. But as The Fall info-service journal, that was the kind of product we were intent on providing and what precisely what our audience wanted... and that is exactly what they got.
The best thing about being involved with the fanzine for me personally, was that I actually got to interview 'Mark P' around the time of ATV's 'Apollo' album release. And for what it is worth, I thought the best article to ever appear in any of the combined nineteen issues, was a great piece about Johann Sebastian Bach that was written by a guy who still posts on the Fall Forum under the alias of 'Aubrey the Cat'.
I remained good friends with Mark E. Smith (on and off... and on again and off again) after pulling the plug on the fanzine and subsequently worked with the band again on a ad-hoc basis over the years, but it was never something that I'd have ever intended or wanted to make a career out of.
Mark himself, was one of the amusing people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing (mostly when he didn't realise he was being or funny, or even meaning to be), but by the same token, he could be an absolute cunt to work with at times too (I make no apology for my vulgarity at this juncture, it is the most apt word choice available). And as for some of the curious folk who used the Fall as a portal to seek themselves some kind of an alternative vortex and vocation in this crazy old world, I could most definitely do without the over-riding majority of them too.
Not all Fall fans (and hangers on) were weird, but a large percentage of those who I met certainly were. Alas, although the majority of them were completely harmless, I tired very quickly of the excesses displayed by some of the worst cases.
Sadly Mark passed away in January of 2018 (it was my sisters 50th birthday). In the weeks after his passing, I was asked if I wanted to attend the funeral, but never went. In the event, it didn't go off peacefully, but it was never likely to, which is why I'd stayed away in the first place, because there was way too much bad blood and deeply rooted resentment between several parties who were going to be present and too many egos in vying to take centre stage in attendance, apart from the genuine mourners and ex-band members. It was a funeral, not an opportunity for settling old scores.
Inevitably, there were hostilities at the wake.... alas, it would seem, that even in the event of his death, Mark was still treated like a coat-hook that some people needed to hang their own insecurities, personal baggage and prejudices on.
But hey! Wasn't it always thus? Peripheral outsiders, who'd never even been in, or been involved with the band, trying to make the Fall all about themselves, when it never really was.
Transmission ends.
The FALL live!
Sankey's Soap, Manchester, Thurs 13 Nov 97
Prior to this gig rumours abounded after the widely (and wildly) reported Belfast debacle.
Who's in? who's out? Have they split? Will they make this a farewell tour? Will S. Hanley finally have had enough and walked, leaving the band's fragile existence beyond repair?
Only one way to find out, so it's off to Manchester we go.
On arriving at the venue early to check details we spot Mark and Julia. She's in good spirits but he's the worse for wear under the rehabilitating strains of a particularly heavy strain of 'flu. A message on the venue's answering machine carries the story that 'We have Mark E. Smith's personal assurance that despite erroneous press reports, The Fall, in its entirety will definitely be playing the scheduled gig'.
Some hours later, despite the 'assurances', it was a relief to see Hanley, Burns, Nagle and Crooks amble their collective way onto the stage to a backdrop of dentist's drill of feedback and shrill racket from a computer in its death throes.
MES may well claim that The Fall's audience is getting a more youthful balance, but judging by tonight's turnout I'm not so sure. The last time I saw so many 40-somethings gathered together it was for a funeral. Perhaps a horde of long term Fall devotees had sensed there really was trouble in the offing this time and were there just for exactly that reason?
Burns & Hanley kicked in with the solid rhythmic back-beat of He Pep! While Julia tentatively teased and caressed a tune from her keyboard. Then in crashed T. Crooks with a crescendo of off-key, raw and threatening chords, totally drowning out all the others. Whether MES received the requisite cheers for his delayed arrival is a mystery... Tommy's barrage of noise was engulfing all other sounds, be they from the stage or the audience.
'Good Evening We Are The Fall' bellows Smith hoarsely, barely audible over the ensuing din. Karl Burns, back in The Fall's ranks with enthusiastic vengeance, is mounting a most determined and noisy rearguard action; offering a challenge to Crooks' aural supremacy. Smith in an oversized trench-coat, belted tightly round the waist, probably sweating out his fever [he adapts the lyrics later in the set to 'l'm feeling numb from cold remedies'] stalked the stage with menace, barking for good measure and now that his monitor had caught the the band up in the volume war. 'Good Evening We ARE The Fall'... with the emphasis on 'are' a clearly stated declaration of defiance and intent.
In hindsight, the potentially catastrophic events of the ill-fated Belfast gig, turned out to be something of a therapeutic launch pad. The tension is back and knife edge uneasiness has stamped out any traces of complacency. The Fall live can once again be viewed as a vision of beautiful chaos. This was a version of the band who were back in top form, all clattering around each other in a messy as hell free-form frenzy, yet still gelling together, as tight as fuck!
Those who came in trepidation, expecting the worst, could once again draw breath. The funeral had been cancelled and The Fall were stubbornly dancing around the redundant grave. Rejuvenated, insatiable, raw and demanding of your reverential awe.
The show must go on and despite his obvious ailment, Smith seemed to be carried along on the wave of euphoria emanating from the stage ...'One, one, one! Can we have the vocals up please Neville?. Look what's happened when I've woke up suddenly!'
'I'm a Mummy' (accompanied by audience screams at appropriate moments) sees the band de-constructing the Levitate LP cover version with an indecent, but highly comical relish. Amidst all this Crooks was still showing traces of being pissed off at MES and appeared to be ignoring him, although there is a school of thought that says this could purely be studied concentration by the relatively new guitarist, who's come on in leaps and bounds since his first couple of nervous appearances at MCR Rockworld.
A superb reading of Ol' Gang went on splendidly into a 12" mix and double album's worth of overtime, with two hotch-potch Receiver albums' worth of extras chucked in for good measure. At times the chaos became too fragmented at the edges and, in terms of musical prowess, this gig would have been strictly third division in 'The League Of Fall Headed Men'. But in light of recent events it reached very high on the scale of importance. For their final encore, The Fall totally massacred Mere Pseud Mag Ed.
A concession to crowd pleasing, or gloriously kicking the past to death? True to form, we'll probably never know.
Rob Waite
Editorial Issue 13
The band as a fighting unit (FIT AND WORKING AGAIN).
There's never any room for complacency when trying to keep track of all the peaks and swoops taken as par for the course with The Fall, but for the time being at least, after a turbulent few months, the band as a fighting unit are FIT AND WORKING AGAIN with many positive pointers for the future coming to the fore.
The recent excellent gig at the Astoria 2 in London, prompted a lot of correspondence to TBLY, some borne out of relief that The Fall are once again back on track, and others celebrating the fact that their faith in MES coming up with the goods all along, was justified by the latest upswing in optimism amongst followers of the band.
The recent spoken word CD scored a "Mighty" two out of ten in an NME review, guess they won't be offering Mark any 'Godlike Genius' awards this year then! Of course this is the same NME that claim the music business itself is in crisis, based simply on the fact that its own sales are plummeting, and rather than living up to its 'New Musical' tag, concentrates on the same old tried and tested regurgitated formats i,e. Oasis, Verve, OCS, Manics & so on, (not that I'm saying that any of these bands aren't actually any good at what they choose to do); when there are hundreds of other bands being suffocated underneath all the coverage these 'retro rock' type acts are getting.
Of course, I'm a complete hypocrite, because I advertise in the NME small-ads, but they have a far bigger circulation than us and selling fanzines goes towards financing the Fall Into-Service, so this is a necessary evil at present. Although I'm reliably informed by a disgruntled former NME employee, that if current trends continue this will not be the case by the year 2000 anyway, when he predicts TBLY will be shifting more units than them!
By way of a massive coincidence in relation to the last sentence (maybe!), the NME has even stopped printing one of its final saving graces: 'Great Pop Things'... some Fall related examples of this excellent cartoon strip are included elsewhere in this issue. Despite NME claims that the cartoonists were fired, the BLY propaganda dept. has a sworn statement by Colin B. Morton that he actually retired by way of a protest at David Bowie reincarnating his Ziggy Stardust character, now would he lie to us dear friends?!
Rob Waite
In January 2000, I decided to treat two of the guys who helped out with the fanzine and touring 'duties' (the latter task encompassed a whole lot of debauchery and inappropriate behaviour that cannot and will not ever be spoken of, my lips are sealed. What goes on tour stays on tour rules apply), to an afternoon at the football. None of your fancy big stadium stuff of course, but a non-league game. Ken, who was always good for a space-filler or two in TBLY, was a lapsed Newcastle United fan, who'd taken to following Blyth Spartans; while Gaz, who I believe is still a match day steward at Harrogate Town these days, was my tour sidekick, we covered each others backs and had no end of scrapes together, so to cut a long story short, they were my guests in the hospitality box at Worksop Town v Blyth Spartans. It was an afternoon akin to Woodstock, in as much as: if you can remember it you weren't there, though I do have a vague recollection of the host team's chairman Rick Knowles, joining us at half-time for a beer and when he opened the by now empty fridge said: "Fuck me lads, I thought I could put my ale away... you fuckers must have a right thirst on!", before disappearing to fetch us more supplies.
It was one of the rare occasions that I'd actually got my expenses for touring, just before before Xmas too, so I used them to 'advertise' the info-service in the Tigers programme and put some cash into the club's coffers.
When I eventually got home that night, I was chastised because one of my companions had apparently become 'aroused', while making lewd suggestions to my wife's sister, when she'd been fastening his tie for him before we set off to Sandy Lane... I can't imagine which one of them that was! But that's enough sordid detail for one outing.
There will be no further input about, nor mentions of, either The Fall or TBLY on THE66POW in any future posts. My lips are sealed... go and buy your own spade if you want to find where all the bodies are hidden and the secrets are kept. Kersal Moor (opposite Salford City's ground) might be a good place to start digging.
Fill the rest in y'selves!
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| An Illustrated History of The Fall |
Footnote: The aforementioned Rick Knowles, who is very sadly no longer with us; was also, besides being the ex-Worksop Town chairman, a former manager of Retford Town, the north Notts football club that folded in the mid-eighties and whose history I'm currently researching.
Originally all of my findings, recollections and interviews were going to be turned into a book project, but on reflection it will probably serve me better if the whole thing becomes an online archive resource instead, so that more content can be added as and when, in due course, rather than having any more material suddenly turn up for me to use, once the tome has been submitted to the printers and published.
And of course, any necessary amendments and corrections can be made instantly online... a luxury that I sadly didn't have with the warts and all photocopied mess that was TBLY... and by heck, it showed sometimes. You live and learn, eh!?
