MES( Mark E Smith- The Falls main creator) possessed the ability to cram phrases into impossible spaces - “I’m hunting and I’m trying to find” delivered as “hut’na tryna find”; the eight-syllable “mere pseud mag editor’s father” hastily squeezed into a manipulation of time and space, heralded by the prior line “twice each at least”, the latter naturally repeated thrice.

Is any of this making sense so far? My allotted task here is to offer you a ‘Fall primer’, based on my immersion in the gruppe’s tangled tapestry as a fan of nigh on half-a-century. I’m going to use that word ‘impossible’ for the second time in as many paragraphs, and you may well read it again as we progress.

A friend - well into his music and with tastes embracing Kate Bush, Rush, The Stranglers, and Adam & the Ants amongst others - recently sought me out as an oracle who might be trusted in admitting him through the daunting Fall portal. “Which five albums should I hear first?”, he enquired/lamented - there’s a desperation and a sort of eagerness tainted with weariness attached to those who are on the outside looking in, but that’s nothing compared with the obsession and completism to follow once you are hooked.

Listening to records is supposed to be fun, right? The Fall have been compared more often to The Grateful Dead, Hawkwind, Peter Hammill/Van der Graaf Generator than to any of their ‘punk’ contemporaries, and seasoned devotees of any of those named artists will put you right on that ‘fun’ notion. So yes, it’s that ancient question once again, one that is doubtless playing on your own lips if you’re perusing a ‘Fall primer’: “where do I start?”, and not uttered as a soaking-up-knowledge enquiry but as a cry of anguish, as though you feel you have to do this and don’t really want to.       

My pal may well have been surprised by my initial suggestion that he needed ’58 Golden Greats’ in his life, a 3-CD Cherry Red compilation. Remember Alan Partridge offering “it has to be… ‘The Best of the Beatles’” when his expert broadcaster opinion was sought on the Fab Four’s finest LP? Well, in The Fall’s case it has to be the best of The Fall. And yes that’s against the grain, it isn’t how these things are done, it sounds crass and stupid and wrong. We’re five paragraphs in now and you are starting to learn.

So which quintet of albums did I recommend? I didn’t. I suggested that 58-track collection, and you may be pondering why it contains 58 numbers, not a conventional 50 or 60. Again, you’re learning. Forget everything you think you know. I went on to pick four more records, and then another five. By rights my response ought to have been lifted from wise old sage John Peel, the master of all things Fall - “you must… must… get them all.” And when Peely informed and advised his late-night, transistor-radio-under-the-bedclothes listeners thus, he didn’t simply mean “go out and buy the bog-standard studio releases”. This was a demand that you devote your existence to The Fall, that if some dodgy semi-affiliated label issues a ‘Set of Ten’ CDs of poorly recorded live gigs (containing guess how many CDs? If you said “ten”, you’re one out. You’re learning) then you don’t eat or heat that week, you buy a Fall live box set. That if Mark E. Smith turns up shouting in the background on a double 12” package of Edwyn Collins remixes, you make it your mission to seek that out. That if a budget compilation whose title you simply cannot decipher appears magically on HMV’s racks, you put your hand in your pocket.

Those live recordings - individual or boxed, or in more recent technologically-developed years, manifesting as authorised official releases via download from the Sheffield Tape Archive - seem to emerge out of the ether, they are relentless, there’s eternally the promise/threat of another one (or ten, or eleven). And you must… must… get them all. Proper, organised acts such as Pearl Jam or Psychic TV have curated their live shows and made them accessible to followers via vast programmes of scheduling and availability, preserved on disc or to be obtained in file form. The Fall don’t do that. Even the recent efforts by ex-members, on their Popstock imprint in tandem with Bella Union, to create some bid for standardisation, via live compilation versions of past classics, have merely confused matters further.

Still with me? I’ll get to the standard gubbins about “what are the best records to buy?” etc. eventually. But to know and come anywhere close to an understanding of The Fall, you need an awareness of the chaos and irregularity that constitutes much of the picture here. Danish artist Claus Castenkiold’s strikingly-hued maelstroms, featuring on a number of Fall record sleeves, create a visual metaphor that captures their world about as accurately as any outsider possibly could. So if you’re baffled by what you’ve read so far, good. You’re learning. We’ve ditched those who gave up on reading, on making their way through this impenetrable sludge a while back. They cannot ever be Fall fans. And if ‘impenetrable sludge’ appeals to you, then prepare yourself for ‘And This Day’, the closing track on 1982 LP ‘Hex Enduction Hour’. But don’t jump online to find that just yet, you really need ’58 Golden Greats’ in your life prior to advancing to the true challenges.

It occurs to me that some might not even be savvy enough to understand my throwaway reference to ‘MES’ at the very top of this piece. Mark E. Smith, ‘E’ for Edward, a towering figure in the English arts scene, though more at home in a Salford pub chatting with old blokes in flat caps nursing half a pint of mild than in debating the merits of his work on stage with Mariella Frostrup. MES was The Fall’s singer. Though, as in the case of many vital vocalists, ‘singer’ is inadequate and wildly off the mark. Mark could croon - hear 1989’s ‘Extricate’ or some of the late period demos for evidence - but chose not to, instead adopting his own version of a hectoring, lecturing style, though finding a unique position somewhere outside the pulpit preachers, street poets, bar-room philosophers, and Lou Reeds. This wasn’t a bid to teach or to convince, but to propose a one-of-a-kind worldview. The aforementioned Hammill could have been an influence - listen to his archly-named album ‘The Future Now’ from 1978, the same year as The Fall’s debut releases (named, perhaps in parallel, ‘Bingo-Master’s Break Out!’ and ‘It’s the New Thing’), and you can hear precisely what MES might have picked up on. Debut Fall long player ‘Live at the Witch Trials’ followed in early 1979 and, as well as once being described as “the only punk album ever made”, has also been cited as a bid to pull off a sort of Van der Graaf Generator mood and style via the use of instruments purchased out of Kays catalogue, notably Yvonne Pawlett’s heroic and dominant stabs and held notes on a cheapo keyboard. In Smith’s head this all might have sounded like a classic Hammill/Hugh Banton complementary piano duet. Advisory listening for newbies approaching The Fall - VdGG’s ‘Godbluff’ as well as ‘The Future Now’, and maybe add in Hammill’s pre-punk outburst of rage ‘Nadir’s Big Chance’.

MES characteristically didn’t let his influences show (despite proclaiming “I’m eternally grateful” to them on the ace 1980 7” ‘How I Wrote Elastic Man’, admittedly singing in character from the point of view of a Stephen King-like author baffled and freaked out by mass adulation - Hammill’s ‘Energy Vampires’ on ‘The Future Now’ paving the way here?) But Mark’s love of the arcane, the frighten-ing, the weird, spilled out, from that debut album title onward. Archival material found after his death in 2017 included a handwritten letter to a pal from Liverpool, Ian McCulloch (not quite yet the beautiful, charismatic, crooning angel fronting nu-psych merchants Echo & the Bunnymen) in which MES insists that Mac ought to watch the BBC half-hour production of Poe’s ‘William Wilson’ screened as a late-night repeat and starring Norman Eshley in the chilling tale’s dual roles. Siouxsie and the Banshees and Mark both undoubtedly viewed BBC1’s 11.30pm broadcast of another Poe-sourced item, Roger Corman’s ‘Premature Burial’, in May 1979, since the Banshees included a track (possibly their greatest ever work) of that name on that year’s ‘Join Hands’ sophomore outing, while Mark (mis) quoted the dialogue with a screeched “Those flowers! Take them away! They’re only funeral decoration” within the monstrous supernatural epic ‘Spectre vs. Rector’ on the ‘draGnet’ LP. Corman’s name looms large on the reverse of that album’s cover too.

‘draGnet’ was released in October 1979, meaning that The Fall, to become feted for their longevity and curdled history, had already put out two albums before the dawn of 1980, effectively by entirely different line-ups. This was the beginning of a revolving door trend. Another frequent comparison made to Mark is the unsurpassed English football manager Brian Clough, or ‘God’ as we call him in Derby; Clough’s ability to dismantle and reconstruct world-beating teams from parochial surroundings, and his magical touch in conjuring first-class performances from no-hopers, has-beens, and raw talent who seemed to fail dismally whenever managed by anyone who was not Brian Clough, as if he held some spell over them, is a wizardry found in few individuals. MES supported and often quoted a theory that there were only a handful of actual people (7, or sometimes 12) in the world and that everyone else was “paste”, i.e. pale carbon-copies of these instigators. The existence on our planet of Mark and of Brian and of not too many other individuals equipped with their remarkable talents suggests he might have been on to something. The Fall’s dozens of sackings, bitter exits, personnel changes on a whim, became such a cliché that even people unaware of their music know about Mark’s iron hand; journalist Dave Simpson even wangled an entire book out of the phenomenon, tracking down past members to relate their tales of woe in ‘The Fallen’.

Now is the point where I’ll start listing LPs, because the period from ‘draGnet’ through to ‘Hex Enduction Hour’ is the most flawless run offered by any artist in history, musical or otherwise. ‘Grotesque (After the Gramme), ‘Totale’s Turns’, ‘Slates’, ‘Hex’, and utter classic singles ‘Rowche Rumble’, ‘Fiery Jack’, ‘Elastic Man’, ‘Totally Wired’, and ‘Lie Dream of a Casino Soul’. Buy all of these, take them to your heart, take them to your grave. ‘Slates’ is a case that continues the Fall bafflement - seemingly unclassifiable, and not only musically. Designed as a release that could not be termed an album, a single, or an EP, it sits in a category of its own (and musically). Naturally, MES determinedly pulled the exact same trick with a 2013 release entitled ‘The Remainderer’, which is kind of the same, kind of different, to misquote John Peel.

Even newcomers to The Fall might be able to fool lifers and gatekeepers, with the quiz question “name the lead track on the ‘Bingo-Master’s Break Out!’ EP.” Not many will get that correct (the answer is ‘Bingo-Master’. Or ‘Bingo Master’, unhyphenated, if you look at the label on the 7”). I mention that EP because the five-minute B-side ‘Repetition’, a la the frequency in personnel changes, has come to define The Fall. “Repetition in the music and we’re never gonna lose it” might have been a nod to MES’ admiration for the pulsating, non-stop groove of Krautrock, and is a signifying mantra of The Fall circa 1979, and yet… MES became renowned for his ‘pre-cog’, precognitive perception of the future, with more than a few anticipatory/predictive instances within his lyrics. Maybe this was an early example, a vision of what he wanted this musical project to achieve. The very title of 2007 track ‘Fall Sound’ suggested that there was an aim, and that the song’s repeated circular riff had indeed captured that. The slightly earlier ‘Blindness’, which is astonishing, had already perfected the form, and future tracks (and entire live shows) would continue striving yet further in pursuit of conductor Smith’s dream noise.

I haven’t mentioned cover versions yet. On purpose, because The Fall too seemed to resist the concept. Until they didn’t. Overnight, in 1985 on release of the ‘Couldn’t Get Ahead’ single, everything changed. The B-side was a thrilling take on Gene Vincent’s ‘Rollin’ Danny’ (this being The Fall, they tweaked the title, reducing ‘Dany’ by one of its Ns), and the floodgates opened. Over the years, certain borrowed numbers became so identified with The Fall that many fans came to believe they were Smith originals. Californian heads The Other Half recorded ‘Mr. Pharmacist’, as later featured on ‘Nuggets vol. 12’, in 1966, but The Fall would come to dominate and own this paean to pills and potions. ‘I’m a Mummy’, which could have been designed specifically for Smith’s singular vocal tics (here pronouncing the word ‘mummy’ as something approaching “mommiah”) and contains keyboard antics reviving fond memories of the early Yvonne Pawlett/Una Baines era, has likewise gained greater recognition as a Fall song as opposed to originators Bob McFadden & Dor. The Fall have adapted material from a vast range of sources: Dean Martin, The Monks, The Groundhogs, The Four Seasons, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, Sister Sledge, Henry Cow, Wanda Jackson, even Christmas carol ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. Steve Bent’s ‘I’m Going to Spain’, a novelty ditty dismissed within the grooves of the Kenny Everett-fronted ‘World’s Worst Record Show’ compilation album in 1978, was reinvented as a plaintive ballad featuring a rather lovely Smith vocal, and if I was asked to select a favourite Fall cover, my choice would surely be the late-80s version of Lonnie Irving’s trucker opus ‘Pinball Machine’, as effective an example of “on finding the studio banjo” (as per Half Man Half Biscuit) as you’ll ever encounter.

Even before they established themselves as kings of the cover version, The Fall had dabbled. Smith’s R. Dean Taylor obsession was previewed within 1982’s all-time classic self-referential ‘Hip Priest’, with MES proclaiming “I took my last clean dirty shirt out of the wardrobe!” (twice, obviously. That whole repetition thing once again), a bastardization of a line from Kris Kristofferson’s mighty ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’; presumably Mark was most familiar with Taylor’s take on the Kristofferson gem. And the movie ‘This is Spinal Tap’ was as much a Fall tour bus favourite as it was a time-passing staple for every other band on the planet - you’ll recognise the ‘Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight’ riff as being central to paranoid East Germany-set saga ‘Athlete Cured’.  

Paul McCartney’s recruitment of wife Linda as keyboardist in his post-Beatles project Wings caused howls of merriment and protest in equal measure throughout the 1970s. Unfazed, MES rarely resisted bringing his own partners into the ranks of The Fall. Most notably Brix, who attended a 1983 Chicago gig, fell in love with the vocalist, and was enlisted as a guitarist pronto, ultimately proving highly popular despite some initial fan pushback. Keyboard player Eleni Poulou married Mark in 2001 and remained a major presence in The Fall line-up, her striking looks and winningly stern backing vocals adding levels to live shows and studio work.

Old-time fans celebrate the early 80s period, especially the Glitter Band/Adam & the Ants-style drum duo line up featuring experienced, done-the-rounds Karl Burns and raw teenager Paul Hanley on the skins. Paul’s brother Steve was a firm fixture for almost twenty years on bass; he’s my favourite bass player of all time, mastering a rumbling, punishing, workmanlike style that always made it look and sound as though he was digging up a road rather than playing music. Partnering him was guitarist Craig Scanlon, an ideal foil, unpredictable and underrated - rarely mentioned among the likes of John McGeoch, Rowland S. Howard, Keith Levene, Robert Smith, or Andy Gill in the post-punk annals but every bit as inventive as any of the competition. Marc Riley completed the ‘classic line-up’, augmenting the overall sound beautifully and occasionally going off-piste with licks and sonic additions which MES presumably soon clamped down on - his ignominious exit in the wake of a troubled Australian tour was documented in his own solo single ‘Jumper Clown’, and he went on to a hugely successful career as a radio DJ.

The most enduring Fall line-up, however, came during the 21st century, with Eleni Poulou accompanied by Peter Greenway (guitar), Kieron Melling (drums) and Dave Spurr (bass), bringing stability for over a decade. Smith seemed to have ultimately located that ‘Fall sound’, and latter day albums such as the robust, gruelling ‘Fall Heads Roll’, the varied and very enjoyable ‘Your Future Our Clutter’, and finale ‘New Facts Emerge’, are all more than worthy of attention.

While usually classified as a ‘post-punk’ act, it should be noted that The Fall embraced all kinds of musical styles across the decades. Techno, disco, reggae, country & western, rockabilly, balladry, experimentalism (check out ‘Bonkers in Phoenix’ from the ‘Cerebral Caustic’ album, perhaps Brix’s peak during her second stint in the Fall), even hard rock (‘(Jung Nev’s) Antidotes’ channelling Led Zeppelin). And on the very last Fall track, ‘Nine Out of Ten’, is that a hint of flamenco guitar fluttering through the extended wordless climax, with MES departed?

MES dabbled in numerous side projects, often dance-orientated (D.O.S.E., Inch, Von Südenfed) and collaborated with various contemporaries who always seemed honoured to have him on board. Most notable in this respect was his sole appearance on flagship BBC music show ‘Top of the Pops’, guesting with Inspiral Carpets and lifting them to new heights on the classic neo-‘Nuggets’ hit single ‘I Want You’, wandering around at the back of the stage, cackling, making crazed interjections, and, wonderfully, reading his lyrics off a flapping piece of paper. There’s really nothing more to be said. The best place to pick up The Falls output is Cherry Red- drop in here