Pitchfork

The most poignant aspect of this six-disc set is that it is now a document of the past, a finite thing that can no longer be built upon. When the Fall and their labels began work on the compilation, this was not the case-- at that time, it was a document of a living, ongoing relationship between one of Britain's greatest bands and its most legendary DJ, John Peel. But Peel passed away last year, ending a seemingly effortless decades-long run as one of the coolest people on earth, and this six-disc document of his favorite band's appearances on his show instead serves as a sort of encomium. It's at once a tribute to the brilliance of Mark E. Smith and his "always different, always the same" band, and to the dedication of a man who never stopped being a fan and never stopped loving new and challenging music.

The Fall recorded 24 four-song sessions for Peel over the course of 26 years, capturing nearly every one of the band's many configurations in all their sloppy precision, and this sprawling, amazing release makes the case that every one of them had at least something interesting to offer, including the less-appreciated Fall line-ups of the mid-to-late-90s. The case could even be made that this is the definitive look at the Fall's career to date-- even more than last year's very well-considered 50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong compilation. Of course, at six discs and more than seven hours, it's not the place to start, but anyone with more than four or five Fall albums would be doing themselves a huge service picking this up.

To touch on all of the highlights, I'd have to devote a full paragraph to each individual session included on the set, so let's just say that this thing is absolutely loaded, with performances that frequently eclipse the studio versions. The 1980 version of "New Face In Hell" is thunderous and Smith's cracking, hysterical vocal is hilariously psychotic-- the band's oft-hidden sense of humor easy to spot. Smith actually laughs on "Beatle Bones 'n' Smokin' Stones", and the band's December 1994 piss-take on "Jingle Bell Rock" is a case study in sarcastic destruction.

Elsewhere, you get two 1983 sessions from the band's mighty double-drummer lineup and a generous offering from the unstoppable mid-80s lineup that produced This Nation's Saving Grace and the Wonderful & Frightening World of the Fall. The TNSG songs hit like a hammer to the head, with a borderline out-of-control take on "Spilt Victorian Child" (my favorite Fall song) and a crunching, hypnotic reinvention of "L.A." leading the way. As one might expect, the first three discs, which reach up through 1987, are the strongest and most consistent, with the last three discs veering through ever more rapid line-up shifts and wider stylistic ground.

What's shocking is the way those last three discs paint a picture of the band's late career as nearly as vital as what preceded it. Fiddler Kenny Brady brings a stronger melodic underpinning to the 1989 and 1991 recordings, without compromising the band's signature rough groove, while some of the band's more electronic 90s material comes off much rawer and crunchier in the live setting. "Immortality" in particular becomes fire-breathing, heavy death funk of a caliber the Fall only sporadically achieved in the studio during that phase of their career.

The Complete Peel Sessions, 1978-2004 is one of the most straightforward titles a Fall compilation has ever had, and the execution of the package is similarly no-nonsense: The recordings are sequenced in strict chronological order and the remastering is uniformly crisp and sharp, something that's not always the case with retrospectives of this band. It's an embarrassment of riches for the Fall's devoted cult of fans, none of whom should pass this up, and it works surprisingly well for more casual fans who've only just begun to delve into the band's bewildering back catalog.

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