Terribly, terribly sad news reaches us that avuncular legend Mark E Smith, he of The Fall, has died.
I bought my first single by The Fall at the age of 18, and whilst other bands are still around, they’re the only band I can think of who have continued to release brilliant records ever since.
I’m not going to claim to be a super-fan; some of their songs I find deeply impenetrable. But those are vastly outweighed by the oh-so-many moments of utterly mad brilliance.
The line-up may not have remained the same for much more than two records at a time, but there was always one constant, the glue that held the glorious ramshackle noise together, and now he’s gone.
Oddly, of all of the Fall records I could have chosen to play right now, I’m plumping for this, as it’s my favourite vocal and lyrical performance by Smith, elevating a perfunctory song from a fairly uninspired Inspiral Carpets thrash far above and beyond anything they could have managed without him.
I’m off to have a little sob to myself and to raise a glass to the grumpy old bugger.
Things won’t be the same without him.