The Fall in Hollywood, May 13 2006
The Fall @ Knitting Factory, Los Angeles, 5/14/06
bushes were in disagreement with the heat
Preface: Hollywood is a shit town. Don't let anyone tell you different. The last movie star moved away approximately 7,000 years ago, as recently proved by carbon-dating Mickey Rooney. It's not even a town; it doesn't have police or fire services, it has no city hall, no mayor. It's just a "neighborhood" within Los Angeles. All it has is a dirty boulevard and 10,000 trinket stores selling Laurel and Hardy t-shirts, 3 for $10.
On the other hand, Saturday night it had The Mighty Fall, and whatever else you might want to say about the place, its denizens certainly appreciated the touring extravaganza du Mark E. Smith.
The Knitting Factory was packed to the rafters. The posted capacity of the place is 350, but they were surely squeezing a few more than that inside. I'd guess 400, maybe 450. Squeezing room only, and as I write this I am stewing in an uncomfortable mixture of other people's smells, cheap cologne and "smells like" knockoff perfumes predominant amongst them.
Three opening acts tonight. I missed most of the first guy, whose name I did not catch (although the Knitting Factory's website suggests he calls himself The Robot Ate Me). Weird, drugged-out roots music, from one guy with an acoustic guitar and a phase shifter, who looked like a mutant cross between Elvis Costello and Randy Newman.
Next was Fielding, who suck. Totally anonymous sounding emotionally wistful delicate bullshit that will soon be available on Music From "The O.C.," Volume 200. They talked a lot and I hated them and I wanted them to shut up. Dude, your band sucks, no one likes you, and your girlfriend isn't that hot. La la la I'm not listening.
Mark clearly needs to work on the support acts.
Finally Safi the video guy, after an introduction from a college radio DJ ("after this short multimedia presentation, THE GREATEST BAND OF ALL TIME..."). Safi was not well received. By the time Barbra Streisand came up on the screen, the audience was openly hostile. It ended...eventually.
Goodeveningwearethefall!
The beginning of Bo D is messed up some. Tim Presley couldn't find the right patch chord or something, leaving Elena, Rob and Orpheo to repeat that riff without any guitar in it roughly 500 times before Tim plugs in. MES takes his time getting on stage, then completely sabotages the intro and the opening lines, and the band can't figure out when it's supposed to go to double-time, because he does "The CD in your hand" bit way before he was supposed to, and that's their cue. The eventually get back on track, but the whole thing is sort of sloppy and they never really get into the groove of it.
"Pacifying Joint" is next, and it's also sort of shambling. The Pomona version was quite clean, but this one is very rough around the edges. Also one of Smith's mics starts cutting out, something that will keep happening intermittently throughout the set. (Eventually he decides he likes the way the mic sounds when it's BROKEN, so he keeps coming back to it.)
Should mention at this point, it's the exact same set from Pomona. No changes. No "You Wanner". Yet. (Unless you count the drunko near the stage who won't stop hollering "play 'A Figure Walks'!" as a "set change".)
"Aspen" next, the guitar is still off-key...so I think this is a planned thing. It's very nice, though. Smith, probably noticing that the first couple songs were sloppy, really picks up the theatrics here, enunciating very clearly throughout, and making dramatic hand gestures to emphasize the lyrics. It's kind of unsettling, actually.
Now, a rollicking "Sparta". Totally amps up the crowd, fists are pumping, heads are bobbing, Smith practially shouting most of the choruses. Rob and Elena are miked very well this time, you can hear them perfectly. Elena seems to be having a really good time. She's grinning and smiling several times this evening, something you don't always see from her. She does the Greek parts, too. Very fun song. The way this band does it is special...it's like a Spectoresque Wall of Sound (thanx Bob, perfect description)...it's also clearly cadged off the US version of COTC as opposed to the more deliberate, less dynamic version that the old band played live. Smith brings the boys to the front of the stage with him during the choruses, something he does again several times during the show. He didn't do this at Pomona, but he did do at San Diego. Maybe he yelled at them earlier today and feels bad.
Now comes "Mountain Energei," which just keeps getting better and better. This was probably the best one yet (er, since Tuesday...which feels like a lifetime ago, to be honest), mainly because Smith was so deeply into the story inside the lyrics, and also because he sang (I approximate) "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-mountain Energy!" at one point. Good times. The bass player from the hated Fielder is standing off to stage right, headbanging the crap out of this song. Also, he's real drunk.
Then comes another "Wrong Place, Right Time" on drugs. Presley is elaborating the main riff a little more, and the freakout effects only come at the end of his guitar signatures, instead of completly replacing the usual riff. It's a little quicker tonight, working its way back to sounding like the "normal" WPRT, except, as I mentioned, on drugs.
Another rip-snorting "What About Us" completes the set. Also a little sloppier than I'd like, but still, it goes on a good eight minutes again, and really has that classic Fall repitition working hard inside of it.
Encore one: "I Can Hear the Grass Grow," a very good version. I suppose I'll just never love this song, but it's played really well tonight, very tight and compact.
Now Smith has the gloves out. Literally, he's wearing not just one black glove, but two of them. Then they're off again. Where did they go? I don't know. (One of them makes a return appearance during "Mr. Pharmacist.")
Next, a whoop-ass version of "Blindness". It just goes on and on and on. Smith pulls out every trick he's got, amps on/off, switches down/up, knobs turned to eleven and then zero and back again; pushes Elena out of the way and controls synths, with his back to audience, using only one hand, for minutes on end. The band has the lockstep groove down tight, and read the changes Smith is making on the spot really well; the whole thing feels like something organic, an organism, fully alive. It adapts and evolves and constantly shifts inside its own reality for something like 12 minutes, until in the end there's nothing else alive in the whole universe except that insistent riff. Fielder guy is going crazy. I think he might have started break-dancing.
It's astounding, this "Blindness". It's vast. It contains multitudes and shit. It's perfect music for dropping dead on the spot to: there's really nowhere else you can go to beyond it. The Outer Planes are just an icy shimmer beyond its cracked and cold windows.
Sigh.
Also, Smith starts dancing at one point about ten minutes in. You read that right. Dancing. Mark E. Smith. Although to be fair, when he does it, it looks exactly like one of those bobblehead dolls you can buy in novelty shops.
"Mr. Pharmacist" closes the set, the same funky, slowed-down tempo from Pomona. Terrific.
I'm tired. And satiated. And I have to drive to San Francisco in eight hours and do it all over again.
Dancing!
Setlist:
Bo D
Pacifying Joint
Midnight in Aspen
Sparta FC
Mountain Energei
Wrong Place, Right Time
What About Us?
Encore one:
I Can Hear the Grass Grow
Blindness
Encore two:
Mr. Pharmacist
Duration: 1:04
bushes were in disagreement with the heat
Preface: Hollywood is a shit town. Don't let anyone tell you different. The last movie star moved away approximately 7,000 years ago, as recently proved by carbon-dating Mickey Rooney. It's not even a town; it doesn't have police or fire services, it has no city hall, no mayor. It's just a "neighborhood" within Los Angeles. All it has is a dirty boulevard and 10,000 trinket stores selling Laurel and Hardy t-shirts, 3 for $10.
On the other hand, Saturday night it had The Mighty Fall, and whatever else you might want to say about the place, its denizens certainly appreciated the touring extravaganza du Mark E. Smith.
The Knitting Factory was packed to the rafters. The posted capacity of the place is 350, but they were surely squeezing a few more than that inside. I'd guess 400, maybe 450. Squeezing room only, and as I write this I am stewing in an uncomfortable mixture of other people's smells, cheap cologne and "smells like" knockoff perfumes predominant amongst them.
Three opening acts tonight. I missed most of the first guy, whose name I did not catch (although the Knitting Factory's website suggests he calls himself The Robot Ate Me). Weird, drugged-out roots music, from one guy with an acoustic guitar and a phase shifter, who looked like a mutant cross between Elvis Costello and Randy Newman.
Next was Fielding, who suck. Totally anonymous sounding emotionally wistful delicate bullshit that will soon be available on Music From "The O.C.," Volume 200. They talked a lot and I hated them and I wanted them to shut up. Dude, your band sucks, no one likes you, and your girlfriend isn't that hot. La la la I'm not listening.
Mark clearly needs to work on the support acts.
Finally Safi the video guy, after an introduction from a college radio DJ ("after this short multimedia presentation, THE GREATEST BAND OF ALL TIME..."). Safi was not well received. By the time Barbra Streisand came up on the screen, the audience was openly hostile. It ended...eventually.
Goodeveningwearethefall!
The beginning of Bo D is messed up some. Tim Presley couldn't find the right patch chord or something, leaving Elena, Rob and Orpheo to repeat that riff without any guitar in it roughly 500 times before Tim plugs in. MES takes his time getting on stage, then completely sabotages the intro and the opening lines, and the band can't figure out when it's supposed to go to double-time, because he does "The CD in your hand" bit way before he was supposed to, and that's their cue. The eventually get back on track, but the whole thing is sort of sloppy and they never really get into the groove of it.
"Pacifying Joint" is next, and it's also sort of shambling. The Pomona version was quite clean, but this one is very rough around the edges. Also one of Smith's mics starts cutting out, something that will keep happening intermittently throughout the set. (Eventually he decides he likes the way the mic sounds when it's BROKEN, so he keeps coming back to it.)
Should mention at this point, it's the exact same set from Pomona. No changes. No "You Wanner". Yet. (Unless you count the drunko near the stage who won't stop hollering "play 'A Figure Walks'!" as a "set change".)
"Aspen" next, the guitar is still off-key...so I think this is a planned thing. It's very nice, though. Smith, probably noticing that the first couple songs were sloppy, really picks up the theatrics here, enunciating very clearly throughout, and making dramatic hand gestures to emphasize the lyrics. It's kind of unsettling, actually.
Now, a rollicking "Sparta". Totally amps up the crowd, fists are pumping, heads are bobbing, Smith practially shouting most of the choruses. Rob and Elena are miked very well this time, you can hear them perfectly. Elena seems to be having a really good time. She's grinning and smiling several times this evening, something you don't always see from her. She does the Greek parts, too. Very fun song. The way this band does it is special...it's like a Spectoresque Wall of Sound (thanx Bob, perfect description)...it's also clearly cadged off the US version of COTC as opposed to the more deliberate, less dynamic version that the old band played live. Smith brings the boys to the front of the stage with him during the choruses, something he does again several times during the show. He didn't do this at Pomona, but he did do at San Diego. Maybe he yelled at them earlier today and feels bad.
Now comes "Mountain Energei," which just keeps getting better and better. This was probably the best one yet (er, since Tuesday...which feels like a lifetime ago, to be honest), mainly because Smith was so deeply into the story inside the lyrics, and also because he sang (I approximate) "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-mountain Energy!" at one point. Good times. The bass player from the hated Fielder is standing off to stage right, headbanging the crap out of this song. Also, he's real drunk.
Then comes another "Wrong Place, Right Time" on drugs. Presley is elaborating the main riff a little more, and the freakout effects only come at the end of his guitar signatures, instead of completly replacing the usual riff. It's a little quicker tonight, working its way back to sounding like the "normal" WPRT, except, as I mentioned, on drugs.
Another rip-snorting "What About Us" completes the set. Also a little sloppier than I'd like, but still, it goes on a good eight minutes again, and really has that classic Fall repitition working hard inside of it.
Encore one: "I Can Hear the Grass Grow," a very good version. I suppose I'll just never love this song, but it's played really well tonight, very tight and compact.
Now Smith has the gloves out. Literally, he's wearing not just one black glove, but two of them. Then they're off again. Where did they go? I don't know. (One of them makes a return appearance during "Mr. Pharmacist.")
Next, a whoop-ass version of "Blindness". It just goes on and on and on. Smith pulls out every trick he's got, amps on/off, switches down/up, knobs turned to eleven and then zero and back again; pushes Elena out of the way and controls synths, with his back to audience, using only one hand, for minutes on end. The band has the lockstep groove down tight, and read the changes Smith is making on the spot really well; the whole thing feels like something organic, an organism, fully alive. It adapts and evolves and constantly shifts inside its own reality for something like 12 minutes, until in the end there's nothing else alive in the whole universe except that insistent riff. Fielder guy is going crazy. I think he might have started break-dancing.
It's astounding, this "Blindness". It's vast. It contains multitudes and shit. It's perfect music for dropping dead on the spot to: there's really nowhere else you can go to beyond it. The Outer Planes are just an icy shimmer beyond its cracked and cold windows.
Sigh.
Also, Smith starts dancing at one point about ten minutes in. You read that right. Dancing. Mark E. Smith. Although to be fair, when he does it, it looks exactly like one of those bobblehead dolls you can buy in novelty shops.
"Mr. Pharmacist" closes the set, the same funky, slowed-down tempo from Pomona. Terrific.
I'm tired. And satiated. And I have to drive to San Francisco in eight hours and do it all over again.
Dancing!
Setlist:
Bo D
Pacifying Joint
Midnight in Aspen
Sparta FC
Mountain Energei
Wrong Place, Right Time
What About Us?
Encore one:
I Can Hear the Grass Grow
Blindness
Encore two:
Mr. Pharmacist
Duration: 1:04
posted by frankenspock at 3:22 AM
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