‘Excavate!’: The Fall’s 'Coffee Table’ Book. Part Two.
Mark E. Smith had a Miles Davis-like disregard and un-sentimentality about his band’s personnel, hiring and firing with aplomb and ruthlessness. A whole book has been written about them, The Fallen, and another descriptive conceit can be that around key sacked members, e.g. post-Brannah/Baines, post-Riley/Scanlon, post-Brix, post-Hanley, just as one can talk about post-Coltrane, post-Jarrett and post-Macero in Miles’s band history. In Steve Hanley’s case, I’d definitely make the argument that The Fall never really got over his sacking/resignation in April 1998, with Levitate being his final contribution to the band’s studio sound, recorded in 1997.
As far as I’m concerned, there was a long series of ho-hum, semi-disposable albums after the last wholly consistent album, The Infotainment Scan: Middle Class Revolt, Cerebral Caustic, The Light User Syndrome (the latter failing to be saved even with the brief return of Brix). The increasing use of cover versions was another indication of diminishing returns and creative exhaustion, and many albums started strongly on 'Side One’ (compact disc was king at this point in time), only to fall away by the second. The one feature that The Fall never fell short of, however, was its abilities as a riff machine, and Smith never failed to deliver at least one killer ostinato per album. This was to remain a constant. The irony is that many of these later Fall recordings are perfectly decent left field rock albums - unfortunately the title Fall Heads Fall is a good summary of the band’s trajectory towards relative irrelevance: these albums completely fade within the effulgence of their 1978-1994 ancestors. Just one example: compare Elena Poulou’s anaemic performance of The Wright Stuff (on 2007’s maddeningly inconsistent Reformation! Post TLC) to almost anything sung by an earlier M.E. wife, Brix Smith, in the 1980s.
Mark E. Smith seemed intent, by the new millennium, to incarnate into his own characters, Fiery Jack, or perhaps Carry Bag Man? (As opposed to the Hip Priest, Dice Man or Slang King?) Was he taking the piss, or were his slurred, slurried and indistinct vocals a result, as they seemed to be with Shane McGowan, of just being an un-reconstituted piss pot? In both instances, it seemed a disrespect to an adoring audience, who seemed to consider increasing incoherence as somehow ontologically authentic. Self-immolation as post-punk statement? It was always difficult to tell with The Fall and its leader, when self-reference became self-parody or/and self-loathing? The flashes of brilliance still remained: What About Us? on Fall Heads Fall was about a very edgy subject, mass murderer Harold Shipman (“…giving out drugs…to all the ladies…”). Consummate punk brio, with a clearly enunciated (relatively, that is) statement of intent/contempt. It’s a shame that these flashes flared up less and less often in the twilight years of this most wonderful and frightening of bands.
trevorbarre