Chapter 27

You arrive at Warehouse 23 with the place heaving. With little chance of getting to the very front, you instead get a pint


There’s the rumblings of cheers down the front of the room, one that grows into a full cacophony as you see the band walk onto the stage, 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 Wakefield once more.

The band are tight, the sound drills deep into your consciousness and rattles around your chest, like it might explode any moment. You have the full panoramic view and it’s splendid.

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, grabbed by some lucky punter right at the front.

The rest of the gig is a sublime, twisted high. An hour later the gig is done, the crowd beings to empty, though many are sticking around to catch last band of the day, Middleman