It’s just something I do and it’s something I’ve always done. Buying records by The Fall is not a proactive decision but something that happens regardless of any external factors. If they were reviewed in a positive or negative light, it makes no difference to me. I’ve read reviews and the like just out of curiosity not as a guide to whether I should buy or not.
Of all of the artists I’ve heard, The Fall are the only ones where I’ve gone out and bought their records as a matter of course. No, The Fall have, by and large, released one album at least every year since Witch Trials and show no signs of letting up. Not for them, gaps of five years or more while they scratch their heads and stroke their chins in some god-forsaken studio in LA or Wales, conjuring up 45 mins of addled rock to inflict upon “their” public. It’s also been a pleasure that The Fall have been such a prolific band. The music should mean something, not just throwaway but an understanding and recognition that whoever takes the time and effort to see or hear isn’t stupid and deserves to be treated with respect. You naturally gravitate to artists who approach their work professionally, seriously and with an intention to communicate. I suppose it’s more of an intuitive thing being so immersed in The Fall’s music gives you a sense when things are not quite right, when they’re a bit phoney and pseud-like. Smith has ever provided a shopping list of artists of whom he approves. The Fall have taken me on a route in music that I might not otherwise have followed. Under that blasting blanket of anger, a deep strata of compassion, humour, intelligence and love. There was a world weariness, a resignation, but not cynicism. The subject matter of the songs wasn’t immediately clear in place of the punk approach of being simply angry, it was beyond that. Maybe that’s why it spoke to me so strongly.
Even though its punk roots were clearly audible, it didn’t exactly take things to another level, it fractured them sideways music refracted through what was clearly a Northern sensibility. It was like nothing I’d heard before and yet it all made perfect sense. As he played the album, it was just like a massive light bulb going on. The title of the album seemed mysterious as well, Live At The Witch Trials. It wasn’t the usual punk blackmail lettered dayglo but a pen-and-ink illustration of a windswept moorland scene with the name of the band in an odd sci-fi type font. The cover of the album intrigued me, however. He was quite enthusiastic about it, but he wasn’t raving.
I first encountered The Fall when one of my friends showed me an album that had just been released.
#SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL MASKETTA FALL ALBUM ARTWORK ITUNES FULL#
I’ve gone from having a full head of hair to being both balding and grey at the same time – not an easy task – and through it all, the one constant in my life has been a cult band from Salford. While following The Fall I’ve seen music genres come and go, and technologies rise and fall like brief empires cassettes (cassingles – what an awful name), mini discs, Walkmen, DATs, vinyl singles, laserdiscs, dial-up broadband – the list goes on and on. I was a Fall fan before I started (and stopped) drinking and before I started smoking, before I ever went abroad and before I ever got on a plane. I’ve been a fan since I was 17 years old and that’s nearly thirty-five years ago longer than I’ve been working, been married, had a mortgage, children, driving licence and longer than the time I’ve followed Liverpool FC. Not only music – they have been so influential to me that they’ve informed my approach to many other cultural forms.
They’ve been a part of my life for so long and I can’t remember a time when they were not a yardstick by which I would measure other music. It’s difficult to know where to start with The Fall.