An evening with The Legend!

You missed out. Sorry, but that’s the bare truth of the matter.

Here, have some reports. (Part one: the realisation.)

• “MOTHER! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO DANIEL JOHNSTON! DON’T YOU KNOW THE KIDS CARE WHAT YOU WEAR?” (Neil Noon)

Here, have some music.

• I heard this from the street before walking into Horse & Groom. It sounded like they’d been playing for hours. Turns out that they were only at the 3 minute mark when ET recants his infamous Capgras delusional experience. The Legend! returns to Brighton burning with more visceral raw angst than ever. (Greg Neate)

La Mômo – Live Your Cinema

The return of Everett True | 21. The Ethical Debating Society

Here, have some more reports. (Part two: the audience.)

• Neil was making notes! (Ringo P Stacey)
• Of two lyrics. Then I posted them on his page in ALL CAPS (see below). I’m no longer a music journalist – YOU work for The Wire. (Neil Noon)
• Exactly! As someone with pretensions to being a ‘music journalist’ I’m disqualified. I’m out of the game. Besides, you’re the better writer – even if you weren’t scribbling them down you were definitely mulling over poetic descriptions of Andrew’s guitar playing. (Ringo P Stacey)
• Hahaha – I LITERALLY described his guitar-playing-style/stance as ‘like a water snake in the bayou’ – to his face, and watched his eyebrows rise in realtime. (Neil Noon)
• Lovely compliant audience for La Mômo, risking their future powers of hearing for the sake of twenty minutes of our ‘oeuvre’. As we played I wondered if the element of entertainment (or that of ‘song’) had become subsumed by that of discomfort. I like to think of others, you see. Playing in the audience helped me feel their pain. (Chris Anderson)

(Ed’s note: the following is perhaps the greatest review of The Legend! I have read…)

• During The Legend!’s first set with dual drums, I raced across town to grab a speaker cable. As he hit his first notes I had to reverse back down a narrow road, it being blocked. I could feel my blood pressure rising with the drums back in the venue as I negotiated further hindrances, overtaking a police car and having to veer off up another side road to shake them off my trail. Meanwhile, back at the gig The Legend!’s 28 year old self, fucked up on alcohol was being relived and relieved with the twin woman tribal drum hypnotics. I was in a sweat, speeding along the seafront, turn right into Waterloo St, stop, dive out the car, meet Bic with the cable, a hug, a thanks, a dive back into the car, engine still running, reverse, turn and get the hell back. The Legend! was now peaking, his 17 year old self, fucked up on alcohol having been justly chastised as my own 47 year old self, fucked up on life drove through more seemingly insurmountable obstacles, re-routing, detouring and finally returning to the gig as the final beats died away, glorious in my possession of the monitor speaker cable (La Mômo need monitors y’see)….. Unfortunately it didn’t work. Shit. (Chris Anderson)
• Not a single testicle on the drumstool for the entire evening. Fair play. (Frederick Broderick)
• …partly thanks to Liam from Dog Legs’ hover-drumming technique. (Mar K Smith)
• I have to say, I was most impressed with the lack of wincing at my voice. The audience were even nodding their heads and tapping their feet, in a beautifully orchestrated version of People Actually Enjoying Themselves. Some of the locals to the pub were also very complimentary, one kind lady saying I had an excellent singing voice, then looking slightly miffed when I laughed, fully expecting her to laugh along with me. So bloody lovely when people get what we’re trying to do, and even if they don’t, getting in the spirit of it anyway. Full marks, audience. Have a biscuit, you deserve it. (Tegan Christmas)
• yeah the gentle bop ‘n’ sway of Leesifer was certainly appreciated, plus approving head nods from Everett and a couple of post-set compliments.. I’m going to take more notes in future in order to review the audience properly. maybe film them on my guitar-cam. and yes Tegan your voice *is* amazing and you should really be in some sort of band. ‘don’t roll your eyes at the king’s opinion.’ (Mar K Smith)

Here, have some photographic evidence.

(Photography: Patrick Hennessy)

Here, have some more reports. (Part three: the bands.)

• Dog legs were, as ever, the perfect, less-than-two minute summer pop song loveliness that so much music is lacking now. It’s got punch, to say the least. I remember seeing them first of all and being blown away, and wondering if they could match that feeling. Glad to say they most certainly did. It’s hard to understand how just two people can make so much fucking noise, but somehow, it’s more than possible, and it’s the sort of noise that makes you wanna go home immediately, write five songs in an evening and get a gig with your own band the next day. There ain’t much noise better than that, eh? (Tegan Christmas)
• Tell ya something else as well, ET…I’ve been thinking for a while that this screaming shit I do is really needed in a world where we’re completely inundated with “nice” female voice. D’you know what I mean? X-Factor, and all that nonsense only ever seem to praise “nice” and sweet girls. Who sing, like birds. And behave, like nice girls should. There’s a bird in the cage analogy somewhere, but I’m too busy furiously typing to be witty about it. However, there is almost *nowhere* in the world that a woman can scream. Like, properly, from her gut. Think about it: Where is safe to do this? Be it from rage, or anger, or just plain frustration, it’ll always be seen as either a cry for help or just totally hysterical. I’m glad I found the places it’s safe to, though: Dark, dank rehearsal rooms with a couple of your best pals, and stages, most often in the back rooms of small pubs, where people await entertainment. If I were less tired and had more time, I’d write a bit more about the politics of this, but for now, I just urge the women reading this to consider it, book a rehearsal room NOW, and go have a good scream. Bring your mates, too, form a band while you’re at it. Cheaper than any therapy, and you’ll have some songs to show at the end of it. (Tegan Christmas)
• Oh shit, I totally forgot about Dog Legs, shame on me. (Frederick Broderick)
• Not sure if this was the third or fourth time I’ve seen The Legend! live but am sure I’ve never seen ET less mannered, more unhinged & free. For some reason it felt like the stakes were higher. I’m fairly sure this wasn’t just a figment of my imagination or a product of the beer he downed before the third set. (Ringo P Stacey)
• I’ve just realised that this was of course the second time I’ve seen The Legend onstage, the first time being when a considerably younger version of me squinted through the drizzle across the pox-ridden swamp that was “Reading ’92” and saw a distant Mr Legend pushing a distant rock star on stage in a wheelchair for what turned out to be his final UK gig. While that has all the hallmarks of a treasured memory, actually I was ill, miserable and didn’t know or care what was happening, whereas this version of me does know, does care, and had much more fun at Monday’s gig. Let us therefore stand together against the dead weight of the past, that we may be freed and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands or something, you get me? (Mar K Smith)
• It was nice and it was also weird. There are different groups of people who all knew ET in the past but don’t necessarily know each other. There are also people there who have just met him. It’s very close and I have a headache. Even though I’ve known Everett for almost 20 years I still find it hard to talk to him for some reason. But it is very, very good to see him. I missed Doglegs, which is annoying ‘cos they’re amazing. I was surprised by La Momo. I’ve sure I’ve seen them before but if that’s the case why had I not noticed Sadie’s leaping drumming? Not just stand-up drums, but jump-up drums – legs wide apart, exuberant, gleeful pummeling. The Ethical Debating Society treat the yell as a rhythmic component – they hold their instruments as if they’re ready to fight and you know that they’ll be on your side. The Legend! plays 4 times. I miss the first one, the second two are short bursts, the third time he plays the song about Daniel Johnston. Whenever I think about Daniel Johnston now I hear the words ‘Daniel Johnston’ in Everett True’s voice. Tonight this one works really well. But oh dear god no, he’s doing the song that goes ‘I want to fuck a man with a beard’ . I suddenly become aware that some of the audience have disappeared and I’m standing on my own at the front, about a metre forward from everybody else. I begin to feel uncomfortable and try to subtly edge backwards a little. I don’t want to be too close when he starts shouting about Vincent fucking Gallo. But, It’s too late, I’ll just have to go with it. I like The Legend! because his voice is unique and I feel nobody else in the world does what he does. (Tamsin Chapman)
• The Scene That Reviews Itself. (Mar K Smith)

Here, have some more photographic evidence.

(Photography: The Ethical Debating Society)

Here , have some more written evidence.

• You know what’s really funny? The first time I saw The Legend! they were supporting Sleater-Kinney at some Camden hole, and I was hugely inebriated. They did the Vincent Gallo song, and I was confused. Later, as ET walked past me, I drunkenly slurred “oh look it’s Vincent Gallo dude” and thought no more of it. On his blog at the time, ET wrote “a Sleater Kinney fan mistook me for Vincent Gallo”, so of course, I had to immediately email him and explain that no, I didn’t think he *was* Vincent Gallo, I was just bemused by the song. I’ve been trying to explain this to various people over the years, about the Vincent Gallo song, with many puzzled looks, so I felt utterly vindicated when it was performed, so much that I nudged poor Mar K Smith in the ribs quite hard and said “SEE? IT’S REAL, IT REALLY HAPPENED!” (Tegan Christmas)
• I had a great night, it was hot and sweaty like all good gigs. I got a free drink at the bar, loved Dogs Legs, listened to most of The Ethical Debating Society from the upstairs terrace (which didn’t seem to matter as I could hear Everything from there) and they looked cool. I enjoyed Everett playing in bare feet and shorts. Thoroughly enjoyed bashing the skins with the lovely Emily Powell. Had ace chats with the barman and barwoman and didn’t feel sick on the way home in the car. I met lots of people I knew but have no idea what their names are. All in all a top night out!! (Sadie Anderson)
• There was an upstairs terrace?! yet again The Ethical Debating Society miss out on the VIP area. If I was conspiracy-minded. (Mar K Smith)
• Yeah this was where Jon Slade had been casually sauntering about all night like the cool as shit bastard he is. We’re just not cool enough, Mar K Smith. (Tegan Christmas)

Here, have even more photographic evidence.

(Photography: Lucy Cage) 

I would’ve included more but it got too confusing in the end. (So, apologies to anyone I left out.)

• After our third set, someone compared me to Lydia Lunch. Man, I was so made up.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.