Decline and The Fall
McGonagles, Dublin 1982
Hot Press (Issue 1-14th April '82)
Review By Bill Graham
(Special thanks to
John O'Grady for sending me this review)
I don't agree with Neil McCormick's estimate of The Fall
(as elaborated in his review of 'Hex Enduction' last issue) but I
can empathesise with his reasons. 'Hex Enduction' benefits from the
second-guess environment of the studio and Richard Mazda's clipped
incisive production. At McGonagle's, they didn't have such amenities.
I've heard the album so I can't agree with Neil but if I had only
caught them at that date, my opinions could have been reversed Untangle the threads of two themes. First we've got another species
of art-damaged rock. It isn't yet as pernicious as the now rightly
condemned, ghastly and misconceived seizure of classical effects by
70's rockers but it's potentially as dangerous because less forthright
and identifiable. Concept is all and though The Fall muscle out their
space of independence, they aren't untouched by the syndrome. Methinks
their audience is highly willing to join the numbers of submit The Fall
to the definitions of "ART". Do I detect a mutual flattery?. The comments only made because certain shared assumptions that
promote The Fall as folk-artists of the new industrial age (or whatever
else caption their fans decide they're trading under this week) allow
them to present a lazy set that makes a fetish of their poverty. In the beginning, The Ramones re-ordered the live set, dedicating
themselves to furiously concentrated onslought. Now bands faced with
a backlog of material can't be so economic, but if dry ice and all such
technoflash mannerisms have been prudently foresworn, no new disciples
have been developed. Instead they're neither primitive nor polished.
Just like The Fall, who started with grating relish, then got
exhausting. I got sucked in and then began to lose it as they stuck in the same
gear. Mark Smith slyly operated against their savage patchwork and by
'Hip Priest' he had caused much provocation with a punky sector of the
audience who objected to this tourists jeers. From her vantage point
at the mixing desk, Fall Manager Kay Carroll alternately cursed and
cheered as the unbelievers threatened pre-emptive action. Some cad won
partial revenge as Smith's tape recorder vanished. "This time, I'm
prepared to overlook it" said the victim. If later the guitars choked the speakers and needed attention, that
was no mortal blunder. But as the double-drummered Fall barged on,
Smith's singing telegrams became inaudible. After such broadsides and
broad swords, I longed for a rapier... Entrenched in their own private world, The Fall demand intense belief
and this nightwatchmans agnosticism was not on the agenda. So it goes
as long as The Fall accept that for live performances reversing the
terms is not changing them.
< Main | News | Lyrics | Press | Record | Live | Articles | Blah | Contact | Links >