As if there were any doubt beforehand, I suppose. Smith’s
role as the lone member of The Fall for the past 35 years should be indicative
enough of his problematic character. “Problematic” I suppose if you were one of
the legions of Fall members to pass through its line-up during that time.
Smith has a penchant for speaking his mind, having a few
drinks and getting physical with fellow bandmates if the situation requires.
The first paragraph details an incident from a few years back when the band
line-up had just gotten underway for a tour of the U.S. in support of their album Fall Heads Roll.
A prophetic title if there ever was one, for a week into the
tour the entire band (except his wife, Elena) and the road manager, all
abruptly quit after a gig in Arizona .
Actually, the road manager quit before the gig, taking the
transportation with him, leaving the three unhappy band members to pass on this
important bit of information to their tempestuous leader.
It all culminated on stage that night, when the three
received the support of the opening band who pelted the lead singer with fruit
in solidarity towards Fall guitarist Ben Pritchard, who had earlier been the
recipient of Mark throwing half-eaten banana pieces at him.
I know. It’s complicated. But the shit of it is that M.E.S.
had another band in place, in a foreign country, mind you-put together
to finish the tour and not miss a date.
What’s more, the same band cobbled together an entire record
together, Reformation Post TLC, and
Mark cites it as a record he’s proud of. While the fact that it got made at all
is impressive, the reality is that Reformation
would hardly qualify as a noteworthy entry in their vast catalog, now past 30
studio efforts.
In fact, many of the acknowledged Fall classics are either
dismissed entirely or given brief mention. The bulk of Renegade is devoted to Smith’s opinion, mostly about other people,
put also regarding sports, cities, musicians, writers, politics, drinking,
drugs, facial hair, pretty much any topic that’s been related to The Fall in
one manner or another.
And he doesn’t worry about how it makes him look, raking
such sacred cows like John Lennon and Joe Strummer over the barbeque. Kind
words are saved for few, and apologies are even rarer.
Kind words are offered to Jerry Lee Lewis. M.E.S. tells a
story of bandmate Alan Wise who quit the Fall to work with The Killer and Chuck
Berry, thinking that it would be an easier gig than working for Smith. Wise
found out that neither legend communicated in the slightest with the backing
band. Smith later attends one of the gig, enthusiastically cheering Lewis on,
mostly for his performance, but part of me also believes a little bit of the
enthusiasm was for Jerry’s poor treatment of Wise.
Smith also gives praise for simple, hometown characters like
his grandfather (hated King Kong so
much that he completely swore off films), a local Mancunian who bought him a
few drinks when he was broke, the guy he collaborated with on I Am Curious, Orange
Speaking of, Smith is surprisingly mild-mannered concerning
the topic of ex-wife Brix Smith, who evidently has stopped using his last name
since Mark brought it up in the book.
Far from just entirely a book about Mark’s opinion of
others, Renegade does follow his
decent into drink, including the rationalization of his obvious reliance of
alcohol. It’s hard to tell if his vices have any real detriment to his quality,
as the past 10 years have been more productive and better received than the
decade before it.
The bottle certainly isn’t doing anything positive to his
health, and it’s certainly created some unecessary drama away from his talent.
He explains a spat with a former bandmate that got him thrown in jail in N.Y.C.
as a drunken misunderstanding. Mark thought certain band members were using
narcotics, so he got loaded, beat on their hotel door and subsequently got
arrested for threatening a female band member during the confrontation.
He details his fear while residing in the tombs, surrounded
by real criminals and from the honest fear of sharing a holding cell with a
bunch of big black men and sociopaths at Rikers. Instead of considering how his
actions were probably not the most effective way of dealing with the situation,
he instead proceeds to blame the woman who put him there for failing to
appreciate that getting thrown in the clink in America is a much more serious
prospect here than over in England.
At the same time, Renegade
makes it sound as if Smith has this rock and roll thing figured out pretty
well. He just needs to determine out the limits of his vices and conceal them
better. He views touring as a way in which he can pour on the excess, as it
were, because someone else is picking up the tab.
So how is that different than anything that, say, Keith
Richards has been doing? There really isn’t much difference, except that
Smith’s line of work pays much, much less than probably even the session
players receive on a Stones tour. With that in mind, Smith doesn’t have the
luxury of being able to afford expensive lawyers when things go south, or eat
the cost of a recording studio when the band up and walks out.
“Lads with no guts. I can’t stand them”
Renegade makes it
very clear that Smith has enough guts to keep doing this, moving forward in
each moment, even when adversity is right in front of him. Even when he feels
that all of that adversity is because of someone else’s incompetency, at least,
according to Mark’s reasoning.
While the title of “renegade” is still debatable after
reading through this fun tirade of Smith’s side of things, it is unquestionable
that the title of “living legend” aptly applies.
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