Panic In Granadaland

Unlike many (at least 50,000, right?), I wouldn’t class myself as a huge fan of The Fall. I bought Hex Enduction Hour shortly after graduating from university, liked The Classical but bounced off everything else. And I never really went back to the well, aside from rediscovering Hit The North a while back. Through somebody else who isn’t with us anymore.

But it feels like another big chunk of the North was lost to us this week (it’s no mistake that I picked a clip with Tony Wilson, obviously).

Two things, though. Firstly, a lot of the eulogies skipped over or made light of just how bad Mark E. Smith could be. Secondly, I had no knowledge of him actually assaulting people…except when a friend on Twitter called out a few people for erasing this part of his life, I found my way to the NME story. Which is datelined March 16th 1998. During the time where I bought and read the NME every week. There’s no way I didn’t come across this news story when it actually happened. And yet, it made no impact on me.

This is not to Milkshake Duck the man. But it’s probably better not to sweep the uncomfortable parts under the tables. He’d probably not want it any other way, either.

Back in Durham and I’ve stopped looking at this house as a home and more of a collection of ‘well, I’m going to have to pack those up and do I really want to take that?’ Which is perhaps not the healthiest attitude to have, as I’m still here for quite a while yet, but I can’t really help it. A few months left…