After a bizarre and mind-blowing set from That Fucking Tank, Warehouse 23 is fit to burst with Long Divisionites eager for Mark E Smith and Co to make their appearance.
Sticking around for a good spot has paid off; you are right down the front. Cheers errupt as the band walk onstage, Mark E Smith in worn black leather jacket, flanked by his loyal foot soldiers.
They are on stage. There’s an uneasy pause. The band look at one another and then BOOM! The drums and bass kick in and the relentless sound of The Fall is back in
The band are tight, the sound drills deep into your consciousness and rattles around your chest, like it might explode any moment.
Third song in Mark E Smith is messing with the settings on Elana’s moog. He moves away and takes off his jacket. It’s sweltering in the venue now. He swings it round his head, seeming unsure what to do with it. His snarling vocals kick back in and he seems refreshed. He comes to the very front of the stage. He shouts:
“Our future, your clutter. I am your future. Sit up! A showcase of talent. Of water, of waterfall. Your future, our clutter.”
With this he slams down his leather jacket and it slides of the stage, clean into your grasp.
YOU HAVE MARK E SMITH’S LEATHER JACKET.
The rest of the gig is a sublime, twisted high. An hour later the gig is done, the crowd begin to empty, though many hang around in anticipation of the day’s final band Middleman