She picked me up. Her hand was warm. It felt like the sun, but a sun that had read sad poetry. She didn’t throw me away. She didn’t show her mother. She carried me to a forgotten corner of the yard, beneath a broken wheelbarrow, and placed me on an altar of chipped brick.
The "Oranj" in question wasn’t just a color; it was a reference to the Dutch Royal House of Orange, tying the album directly to its conception. The album was written as the score for a ballet, "I am Curious, Orange," commissioned by the celebrated avant-garde dance company Michael Clark & Company. This context is vital. This wasn’t just a collection of songs; it was a collaborative performance piece performed in Amsterdam, blending the abrasive, repetitive rock of The Fall with the fluid, post-modern choreography of Clark.
Are you a collector who owns this rare pressing? Share your matrix numbers in the comments below. If you have a lead on the Dutch promo cassette, contact us immediately.
Day one of my ground-life: A slug traced a silver question mark across my face. I felt it as a cool, ambiguous caress. I Am Kurious Oranj Rar
It begins not with a seed, but with a rind. A tough, bitter, solar-orange rind that has been peeled back by a thumbnail caked with soil. Beneath it, the pith is a wound of white, and beneath that, the flesh is a universe of wet, segmented stars.
: A post-punk rendition of William Blake’s classic poem, infused with Smith's characteristic vocal bite and social commentary.
: A high-momentum rocker that remains a fan favorite and showcases the tight interplay of the Smith/Scanlon/Hanley lineup. She picked me up
The title itself is a pun on the 1960s Swedish arthouse film I Am Curious (Yellow) , perfectly encapsulating Smith’s love for high-and-low culture mashups. It wasn't just a soundtrack; it was a "key artwork of 1980s British art" that refused to be categorized.
What awaits the user who finally manages to unpack that archive? The album is a strange beast, even by Fall standards.
For the Fall completist, the "I Am Kurious Oranj Rar" is not just a record; it is a historical document of a band at their most provocatively obtuse. It captures the moment avant-garde ballet collided with gnarled post-punk in a dingy Manchester rehearsal space. She didn’t throw me away
My mother was a tree in a concrete yard. My father was the smog from a nearby rubber factory. I was conceived in a cough. The other fruits on my branch grew round and fat, dreaming of the juice bar, dreaming of the breakfast plate. They whispered of sweetness, of the simple, solar joy of being squeezed.
This article dives deep into what the "Rar" (Rare) designation actually means, the album’s bizarre origins as a ballet soundtrack, and why finding a physical copy today requires both luck and a small fortune.