The Fall

Mark E. Smith: the man, the myth, the mess. Wednesday 3rd November saw Smith and friends bless the stage of HMV Picture House and gift the audience, with at least two songs...

It’s well known that Smith sells his gigs on crossed fingers. Will he show? Will he play? Will he survive? Smith arrived on stage to perform what was supposed to be a one and a quarter hour set, only to wander offstage ten minutes later armed with a bottle of whiskey. A few mumbled tracks later and it appears that sadly, the whiskey was all that could withstand the test of time.

The next forty minutes saw what were essentially session musicians playing songs by The Fall with no accompaniment form the main man himself. The crowd was told that Smith was hurt and “there’s no way he’ll be back”. The audience dwindled and the heckling intensified. After an impromptu performance from a ballsy crowd member, Smith arrived back onstage to perform the last half of Mr. Pharmacist.

What can possibly be said that hasn’t before? Everything was as to be expected; an utter shambles, but somehow this is the beauty and tragedy of The Fall. His ability to attract the same fans time and time again is remarkable. Despite the crowd being fairly outraged, clearly angered at the invisibility of the man they had paid to see, they were still having a good time (a few beers and all was right again).

At the end of the day, you pay to see The Fall, and The Fall is Mark E. Smith. As the only consistent member of the last forty years, he does what he does and does it better than anyone. He plays with your emotions, makes you hate him and love him and all within the space of an hour.