[ni'k]

yeah. i worked it out.

its a fantasy about shipman killing all the eastern europeans who emigrated to britain in the 00's. and he coded it so that he could get away with it, to have a laugh at all the guardian types who suddenly loved the fall and would find such an idea so abhorrent. also, because he's such a mystic tory it's like what if the immigrants wanted some kind of dream catatonia, like because they are so lazy? yeah. maybe. he doesn't say it directly, it COULD be seen as some sort of commentary on an foreign person coming to britain and getting adjusted to the necessary blissful fatalism of the culture. see he's covered on all bases because he doesn't say it directly. mystic right winger. you can't hide it from me mark.

[Glice]

The cripple state is holy state.

You can read a lot into the Fall.

[ni'k]

the point is to read SO MUCH into it that you find things that are barely even there. one of the few bands you can do that with.

[ni'k]

some men want to turn into women,
i've been down that street before, it just makes meat out of the soul.

i once met a MASSIVE fall fan who was also a cross dresser. nice guy. one of those fall fans that are unwittingly old fashioned and hate every other band and don't know of any that didn't come out before the mid 80's.

he wanted to have sex with me but had to make it a 3some to appease his boyfriend, and when his boyfriend realised that he wasn't going to get any attention paid to him he kicked off and had a massive row and i had no tent to sleep in that night. true story.

[atsonicpark]

hey I just listened to dark rye bread. It's pretty cool.

[ni'k]

try dispersed and physicalities next, they are better.

[the ikara cult]

Abstract: Any Fall song can mean any old shit you can ascribe to the lilt in MES's whistling pipes. We listened to every Fall song ever recorded to see if any correlation between theme, mood and style emerged. We then quantified these using measurements that we made up, pretty much on the spot. We concluded that MES talks rubbish half the time, but that its quite fun, and occasionally wicked.

Hypothesis;
Null : All Fall lyrics are unrelated either to one another or any extraneous variable
Experimental : Certain Fall lyrics in certain songs convey a secret message, be it explecit or in code. And MES is definitely either a Mason, a high priest in Opus Dei, or Ayotollah of Iran (in disguise)

Method
Sat arse down, starting with Live at The Witch Trials, ending with MES being sick on someones cameraphone. Keep whisky on standby.

Results
A correlation graph with axes from 0 to infinity on four planes. The results look like an infinite, bottomless bottle of Stella Artois

Conclusion
He's written a couple of songs about football hasnt he? And then there was that one about one of the popes?
Future experiments should focus on something useful

[ni'k]

there are clear and direct meanings in earlier fall songs, even in many of the later ones, up to the last few albums were there are only references to things. a better hypothesis would be that alcoholism/speed abuse and the facism of mes' position (gotten rid of all founding members, now just fires and hires and gives orders) leads to lyrics that are just empty intensities and so completely esoteric and solipsistic that they mean nothing but can at best give the appearance that they do or that they are worthwhile because they are just being said for the sake of it. he seems to be half embarrassed/afraid to go as far as he used to.

something like n.w.r.a. is obvious, unless you are unaware of what the arndale is or who tony wilson is. the early songs can be stories or fragments but they almost always paint some sort of picture or something. you can at least believe there is a meaning behind them or something interesting that cannot find clear and literal expression. unlike most of the songs now. what you seem to be saying is that "i'm smart enough to know nothing means anything", while it was mildly funny, i'm not prepared to go that far, it's just that compulsory sense of meaninglessness no? for it to be only a matter of mes talking rubbish and it being "wicked" is a horribly boring way to view art.

[Keeping It Simple]

Ni'k is SO paranoid.

[ni'k]

really? that's a bit of a generalisation don't you think trollspawn? but em... i don't exactly see how paranoia comes into anything i've said...? unless you mean that all song lyrics are totally meaningless and to try to read anything into them is a sign of paranoia? i can see how that would fit in with your worldview.

but you've just totally bested me again, because i'm actually self justifying to a troll. as if i care. i guess i do to type this much. you win, troll king.

[the ikara cult]

I always thought NWRA Stood for North West Rifle Assosciation and it was about some paranoid survivalist stuff. Somebody had to point out the fact that North Will Rise Again is in the lyrics to me, so i think these coded "messages" largely pass me by.

[ni'k]

ha it works better if its both. the fall visi site has all the lyrics and they explain a lot of the references you wouldn't be aware of unless you were reading a particular newspaper in 1986

[atsonicpark]

I'm Joe Totale! The Yet-unborn Son!

[the ikara cult]

I like not knowing haf the things mentioned. Its more fun to extrapolate.

Halifax Copter is my favourite one, im assuming that Halifax Town had spent thousands of £££ on a helicopter in some mad folly of the 1980s. Or one crashed into someones house
Or there was someone from Halifax who would get their dick out and spin it around "like a helicopter" (I used to know someone like this)
None of these make any sense but it sounds like fun.

Muzoweri's daughter? Who the fuck is that?

[atsonicpark]

Originally Posted by atsonicpark

I'm Joe Totale! The Yet-unborn Son!

..I'm also Muzoweri's daughter, J.Temperance, Wireless Enthusiast, Fiery Jack, The Man Whose Head Expanded, Hip Priest, Man With Chip, Carry Bag Man and Slang King!

[atsonicpark]

I had to make that my facebook update, haha.

[ni'k]

http://k-punk.abstractdynamics.org/archives/010367.html

Epilogue: The alternative afterlife of Roman Totale
Wandering through the franchise coffee bars in the reconstructed centre of Manchester – the Arndale had been razed, his visions hadn’t led him astray there - Totale tentatively fingers the wounds. Things have got very confusing since they put him on the anti-psychotics. Once he had thought that the abrasions were the scars left from a tentaclectomy, imposed on him by a psycho mafia who wanted to block his Faery revolution. He hoped to overthrow the sickly grind, dreamed that he could preside over a kingdom of the grotesque and aberrant: hobgoblins in the shopping centres, golems stalking the council estates. But he had been assured that this was all a particularly florid delusion. The marks all over his body had been the result of a nasty self-harming habit. But things were better now.
They told him to stay away from the secondhand bookshops, to watch TV in moderation, and then only the right kinds of programmes - about DIY, interior design, diet, these were harmless, in fact the doctor encouraged him to watch shows such as these, hoping, he said, that they would encourage Mr Totale to take more interest in his appearance, to look after himself properly. But even when Totale did lapse and go hunting for the, it was only the old programmes, the ones he found cycling round on the cable channels, that triggered anything, phantom flashes, breakthroughs in a grey room. It used to be that he could easily find the psychic channel, wherever it was. But the new stuff was the opposite of a portal: a bad mirror, its surface cold and unyielding, capturing him in the world of his reflection. It and the drugs made it so he could no longer see himself as he once had.
Fragments of a voice. Absurdly high pitched, smurf-like. ‘Roman, Roman, don’t you know you’re dead?’
There’s no way back. The place I made the purchase no longer exists