Mark E. Smith's prolificacy through the years has been simply bananas, no? (And I'm not just talking about PEEL Sessions!!!) With all the excitement and controversy still bubbling from their most recent tour, The Fall have decided to release a new album in early 2007, entitled Reformation. No tracklist or details about the content yet, but it's rumored that Ben Folds will play piano on none of the tracks.
Also planned are two Fall-related books; the first is the autobiographical Renegade: The Gospel According To Mark E. Smith, which may have actual spittle-and-beer stains on select pages, while the second is Perverted By Language: Fiction Inspired By The Fall, which is a collection of fiction inspired by The Fall. Though the latter book won't be out until June 28, TMT has acquired a fake advance copy and is pleased to offer a short excerpt:
The Man Whose Head ExpandedIt was a dark and stormy night. E. G. Cunningham pulled into his driveway at 9:30 PM, much like any other night. He removed his keys from the ignition and dropped them into his suit pocket, much like any other night. In fact, everything that happened to Mr. Cunningham on that dark and stormy night was precisely the same as any other night of his life. Precisely the same, that is, except for one sinister difference. On that particular dark and stormy night, E. G. Cunningham had a horrible secret of the most jaw-dropping magnitude.
Cunningham exited his vehicle and opened the front door to greet his beautiful wife, but something suddenly gave him pause. E. G. Cunningham could not get through the front door. Luckily, his wife was not only beautiful but pragmatic, and in minutes a solution was reached: Cunningham would enter through the side window. Dinner was already set on the table as he stepped into the dining room, and his wife trembled as she ladled fresh soup into his bowl. Before the spoon was even brought to his lips, Cunningham's cranium had suddenly expanded to the size of a baby rhinoceros.
"Why... why is this happening to me?" he wailed. "What have I done to deserve such treatment?"
"You sad, sad man," his wife whispered into his ear, an ear now the size of an adult rhinoceros. "Did you really believe I'd never find out about your child pornography ring?"
"No... no, I can explain, honey!" he shrieked. "Honey no... put that safety pin down... you can't do this to me. You can't do this to E.G. Cunningham!" And with that, he became the man whose head... exploded. All over the walls. His funeral was a simple affair attended by few, and in weeks his wife was married to Mark E. Smith, who meats her.
