We are the Fall
Northern white crap that talks back
We are not black. Tall.
No boxes for us.
Do not f*** us.
We are frigid stars.
We were spitting, we were snapping "Cop Out, Cop Out!"
As if from heaven.
I heard from wives and ex-girlfriends, who’d all been ultimately discarded or abandoned by him (one, girlfriend/manager/kazoo soloist Kay Carroll, exited the van on a freeway in the middle of a snowstorm). I heard tales of guitarists being blindfolded on the way to gigs or dumped in Swedish forests; there were stories of “creative tension” and psychological torture. Songs had been recorded live in the back of speeding vans. A drummer who hadn’t played for years found himself press-ganged into the Fall minutes before they played to thousands at Reading, by a singer and guitarist bloodied from going at each other with knuckledusters.
Smith was far too complex or intelligent to be a mere ogre
Despite his image Mark E Smith was no ogre. We bid farewell to a kind-hearted hellraiser
By complex and intelligent they mean talked to journalists & didn't shag blokes.