The Fall in Boston

I tried being late this morning. There was a meeting scheduled at 9:30 in the belly of the fruit stand, and I was planning on attending and sleeping in a bit. Of course, my body clock had other ideas and let me sleep for an extra 20 minutes. I was hoping for more than that. It may have been my conscience or it may have been my aversion to being late.

Taking a chance. Rather than use the iPad, I am back on the computer. The chance is they really don’t look at what I write or how I use these computers. It’s been what the kids call ‘a minute’ since I used the computer for things like this. I would have thought they would be looking over my shoulder time and again but I am beginning to think they do not. I do not like the term, ‘been a minute’. It’s almost always longer than a minute and this an abuse of time or the phrases that are used to describe time.

Once again I need to adapt since they’re not going to adapt to me.

Last night on social media, a writer I follow posted something about Brix Smith from the Fall. It may have been her birthday. I enjoy this writer, Jim Sullivan. A rock critic who wrote up in Boston. Now he’s on social media, telling tales from his past as well as plugging his book on Trouser Press books.

I was all set to post something that I could have sworn I wrote about on this here blog but various searches with various search terms came up with nothing.

So here it is. Steve Saporito was friends with Mark E. Smith of the Fall. He also had a crush on Simon Rogers, who was in the Fall at that time. I had a crush on Steve, and he did not feel the same way. Steve had an idea to go up to Boston to see the Fall on their first date for 1986 US tour. After Steve worked his shift at Maxwell’s, someone gave us a ride to Newark Penn Station for a train up to Boston at 2:45 AM.

Somehow I had the money to do these things. Anyway we rode up to Boston, at one point I fell asleep with my head on Steve’s shoulder which caused consternation of the conductor as he passed. Steve told him I was his cousin so I guess that made it all better.

We made it to Boston in time for the morning rush hour on a cold February winter day. We had nowhere to go and didn’t know anyone so we wandered around all day, going to see Hannah and Her Sisters in the afternoon and waited for the band to arrive.

I guess they got to the Paradise Rock Club around late afternoon. Steve said hello and introduced me to the band. We helped them lug the equipment in, and then the Fall went to their hotel, and we went to get something to eat. Mark E. Smith put us on the list for the show.

We ate and were outside the club. Being a college town, identification was strict and I flubbed my answer with my birthdate which caused the doormen to deny my entry. We stood aside and watched the club staff throw drunks out into the gutter in the cold February night.

Eventually the Fall arrived at their sold out show and Mark E. Smith wanted to know what we were doing outside. Steve told him I was denied entry and Mark replied ‘fuck that. You’re the crew. If you don’t get in, we’re not playing’

The doormen and management were unyielding and so was Mark E Smith, pointing out that there would be a riot if the band did not play this sold-out venue. After a short while management allowed Steve and me into the club but could only watch the show from the dressing room which was better than standing out on the cold Boston street in February.

Some friends from Maxwell’s came up for the show and we had a ride back with them to the tristate area. The Fall were playing Irving Plaza a few days later and Steve and I went of course. I was grateful that Mark E. Smith did what he did to get me into the Boston show.

I knew he liked science fiction and bought him a couple of science fiction books to say thanks. He looked at them and was not impressed, especially when one was compared to Douglas Adams from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and Mark E. Smith let me know how little he thought of that.

Still, I was grateful.