Everett True

27/04/06

Everett True answers Poptones.co.uk’s Questions of Doom about the Legend (which was the first release on Creation Records), his relationship with Alan McGee and their ‘zine, Communication Blur, why he had changed his name, the early days of independant music in England, Courtney Love (he made her the star she is today), Nirvana, Grunge, Careless Talk Costs Lives, Riot Grrl and his brilliant new magazine, Plan B, which can be found at http://www.planbmag.com

Why did you name yourself from a cartoon character from ‘The Outbursts of Everett True’?

The simple answer is that I needed a new name. I’d been fired from the NME by James Brown - who later went on to ruin popular UK male culture for at least two generations - when he got the job as features editor there. I remember his words: You’re shit, Jerry. You’re lazy, you can’t write and you need to pull your finger out. He was right. I’d been interviewed by Simon Reynolds for an article on fanzines in Melody Maker a few months before, and so I called him from my silkscreen printer workplace and asked him if he thought they might be interested in using me. I had a spare half-hour at work before my interview with Steve Sutherland (then at MM) for a writing job, and spent it typing up all the reasons I thought MM sucked. He said I could write for them, but only under the condition I changed my name, as it was too closely associated with NME. This came as a shock to me. I didn’t think anyone knew who the fuck I was. So I had an evening to come up with a new name: I’d just bought a compilation of the aforementioned comic strip for 10p the week before from Comic Showcase. It seemed appropriate: a two-panel strip where the character was surly, fat, wore a bowler hat, and gave everyone their comeuppance in the second panel. I sent out silk-screened Christmas cards a few months later with my new alter-ego on the front, and was shocked that people were already calling me Everett. Some people do still call me Legend!, or Ledge: John Robb and Calvin Johnson, for two.

You were heavily involved with Alan McGee in the early days pre-Creation. Did you think you both would scar the face of pop music forever when writing your fanzine - Communication Blur?

Yes, we did. We were insufferably arrogant. That’s the nature of youth: you’re fearless because life still (hopefully) hasn’t dealt you a crap hand, or if it has, you’re too young to realise that you should be down about it. Scar the face of pop music...heh. Good phrase, when I think of some of the crap McGee has released over the years. Obviously, Alan has had way more of an effect on a far greater proportion of the population than I could ever hope to achieve - and, fuck it. Good on him. He realised his dream. I never did.

I truly loved the first two Legend singles on Creation - why do you think they were afforded such a bad rap? Will history vindicate the two singles?

No of course history won’t fucking vindicate them: history is only ever on the side of the bullies and the blackguards, the winners and the powerful.

I like the first one for its brutal and naïve honesty, two traits that unfortunately aren’t valued very highly in the pantheon of pop music - or even indie pop music, when it comes to that. The second one has a great B-side. People hated them because...well, let’s face it. The lyrics on the B-side of my debut single are pretty fucking embarrassing, aren’t they? Standing by while you watch someone get the crap beaten out of him. Fuck man. I guess that you can praise it for its painful honesty, and I kind of like the mini-symphonic music, the way it builds. But. A bad rap? The only people they were afforded a bad rap from were Alan McGee (who played and co-wrote one single, remember: and was once so enthused by it that he decided to start a fucking label to put it out on) and all his cronies that followed. I’m still hurt by the first (it’s taken me this long, after countless years of being publicly ridiculed in the press for my music) to start creating my own personal songs again. I couldn’t give a fuck about his cronies. Cronies are always wankers. I suspect part of the reason McGee got to slagging it off so much it that it embarrasses him to recall that he once cared so passionately about music he’d put out something so un-cool and open to ridicule.

And, to be fair, we did fall out rather badly...and I think most of that was on my side, not Alan’s. So you can hardly blame the man for hating those two singles, as they represent an extension of me, what I was back like then - and hence a representation of our shattered friendship.

As an aside, I can remember going into Rough Trade in Ladbroke Grove the week after ‘Destroy The Blues’ came out to buy 10 copies for friends and family, etc, as Alan and I had already fallen out so much we weren’t talking, and there was no way I was going to ask him for a copy. Nigel behind the counter accused me of trying to hype the single into the independent charts! Like I knew.

Again, with the beginning of Creation did you feel that you were involved in something that was going to last decades?

No. Not at the beginning of Creation. Communication Blur, yes. Creation, no. The reason for this is simple: I wasn’t interested in making money or seeking fame. I just had a burning desire to communicate. I almost certainly abhorred the idea of reaching a load of people, being the biggest social retard around back then. Communication Blur was a pure delight for me (and also, was just me and Alan): Creation Records had very little to do with me so I had no handle on what was happening with it. I remember being shocked years after the event that music journalists used to regularly come down to The Living Room.

I guess the first inkling I had that something bigger might be going on was with the Mary Chain, when they discovered feedback and the press rediscovered their power. But by that point I’d convinced myself I hated them (I didn’t: that came later when they turned into a redundant one-trick bad approximation of the Ramones) so I looked the other way.

You and Alan had a legendary falling out? What happened? The stories are always confusing and conflicting.

Did we? I’ve never heard him speak of it. I dunno. I still feel like I let him down somewhere along the line early on: same way I feel about a couple of other friends of mine who went on to achieve way more notoriety than me. I guess I disapproved of the way he seemed to be more interested in making money from music than just making music...and I guess I fucking hated and despised a certain faction among the people who started hanging around with him once The Living Room started to take off and get noticed...I’ve always suffered heavily from feelings of paranoia and insecurity, so I always totally misjudge the reaction I get from stuff I say or write (ie: I don’t think I’ll get any). Especially back then. So I wrote a few lines in the second issue of The Legend! about the situation. (Communication Blur foundered shortly before its third issue, when Alan wanted to make me the editor and I refused point blank to editor any magazine that was going to have a Smiths flexi on its cover.) Words that I would’ve been much better off saying to Alan in private. (It wasn’t the last time I made this mistake with friends, either, sadly.) Alan felt incredibly betrayed, I suspect. I felt betrayed too.

Hence friendships end. Sigh. Every now and then I feel like I should get back in touch - but what for? And I can’t imagine he even barely registers my name now, he’s lived through so much.

From what I’ve heard - the early days of ‘independent music’ in London could get incredibly violent? Bullshit hyperbole or the truth? If so, it makes the incredibly fey music even more fascinating.

Right. It could. I can remember one show in Cricklewood, in particular, where the whole of the fucking British Movement right wing skinheads turned up, and the band and myself (they were sleeping on my floor that night) had to have a police escort to get us out from the venue. Right wing thugs turning up to shows, chasing punks down tube stations, was fairly common back then. I can recall stopping another gig, at the Bull & Gate, cos someone was wielding a knife. Whatever. I’m sure that some of the early Living Room showcases must’ve been marred by violence: a lot of everything was back then.

In the late eighties you were heavily covering the Seattle music scene - why are you always in the middle of Zeitgeist?

Luck, obviously. Not just luck, though...I loved to dance (I still do, although I’ll confess to not being as lithe as I once was) and felt it almost my duty to give something back to musicians who were giving so much to me, by physically appreciating them. When you love music, you’re always on the look out for whatever is new, whatever is exciting, wherever it is - and I was fortunate, that I landed a new job at Melody Maker just at the time something was happening over in Seattle, and hence was given (and grasped) the opportunity to go over there plenty of times and write about it, dance about it. It’s not deliberate, being in the middle of a Zeitgeist, but as anyone who’s ever been there will tell you...It’s fucking addictive, and you really miss it when you’re not. I guess you stay true, stay pure to your passions, and eventually stuff will either start to happen around you or it won’t. Fuck it. You stay true to them anyway.

Do you think Grrl Power was hype or fact?

Heh. Riot Grrrl was never primarily a musical movement - it was more a sense of empowerment, a way for a certain generation of women to deal with the way society treated them, and they treated society. Most of its originators didn’t even play music, certainly not in the rock’n’roll sense. The actual words ‘Riot Grrrl’ were supposed to be transitory, discarded once they had served their purpose (ie:, two months on). I guess it was kind of like punk, then: a decent phrase never goes away. Sure it was both hype (over here, and in the US) and fact. One begat the other. On a populist level, it’s obvious which way round it was. One a personal level (and I’m talking about friends who never picked up a copy of the UK music press in their lives), it was the very anathema of hype.

Does it still exist today?

See above. I don’t believe in Riot Grrrl. I don’t believe in Alan McGee. I don’t believe in Beatles. I don’t believe in God.

Courtney Love has often stated that you made her into the star that she is today. Do you hold any personal responsibility for this?

It was nothing to do with me: Courtney saw an opportunity when she met me, and grasped it. I still have very ambivalent feelings about this whole era. She didn’t often state it, by the way: once, and I ran with it. Again, another person who, I can only imagine, thinks about me maybe once a year. I hold no personal responsibility because she turned out to be such a major disappointment to me: when we first met I was greatly excited by what I thought was her potential, the fact she seemed not to give a fuck for what ANYONE thought of her. You meet someone as crazy as that, but in a position to affect things, of course that’s exciting. At the time, I was drinking so hard I didn’t care if I even woke up the next morning, ever woke up again… I later realised that I’d got Courtney entirely wrong: far from not giving a fuck what anyone thought, she could ONLY define herself through other people’s perceptions of her. Damn. How dull is that? All she ever wanted was to be another bottled Hollywood blonde actress with famous friends and a mansion in the country. Shit. How fucking pathetic.

Jennifer Herrema stated that thought she didn’t feel pity for Courtney Love, she did feel bad? Any feelings on Courtney going through a very public breakdown earlier this summer?

Sorry. I don’t follow old flames’ careers.

Did you ever feel that you would escape the lost ‘Sunset Boulevard’ years post-Kurt Cobain’s death.

I’m not sure I have. I mean, sure I’m a discard, one more indistinguishable flake on the scrap-heap of history. I’m not sure I have. I know I no longer go jetting across to America on diva’s wills, and I know I no longer get in brawls and punch-ups with famous rock stars, and I know people no longer stare at me as I walk in a room and whisper about me behind their hands, and I know I no longer hang with drunk film stars and race through Amsterdam streets on bicycles at five in the morning, but I’m...Oh yeah. I have. How did that happen? No. At the time, it certainly felt like there was no escape. I escaped by going away and hiding, eventually: hiding and meeting my wife, who rescued me from the depths of self-pity and hedonism. And all that crap. I’m still in hiding. I don’t know if I’ll ever come out.

You’ve always maintained a fine balance of self-loathing and motivated passion. Did you feel during the ‘Sunset Boulevard’ years that the self-loathing overcame the motivation to truly do something good for music?

I didn’t care, if that’s what you mean. Although I guess I never lost sight of the fact that fundamentally there’s something within me that is so different, so strange, that I’ll never ever have to worry about the allure of fame or riches or stasis that have so tempted and ensnared old friends. I didn’t care, but I still burned with a desire to communicate, however crap and corny that sounds. Y’know, getting cynical and giving up make it a lot easier to make money and get by, in my experience. I’m not quite sure why I’m not in that space even now: put it down to the influence of my wife, my friend Steve Gullick (who phoned me up in 2001 to ask me to start a magazine, Careless Talk Costs Lives, with him) and a handful of ideals which refused to die. You find that other passions can inflame you, help you discover yourself and life around you. Don’t let the dust settle on your records. That’s lesson number one, the fundamental.

What happened during the lost years of Everett True?

Not stuff I’d care to recall. A lot of self-aggrandisement, and a lot of drinking. Not drinking in a spectacular, creative or spontaneous manner - drinking in the same way most the population drinks, to dull the ache, to help keep the roaring silence at bay. That’s about it.

Why did you discontinue Careless Talk Costs Lives - it seemed to me that you were actually getting somewhere and establishing a pertinent alternative to mainstream music magazines.

We stopped because we always said we were going to: and that counted for a lot in our world. We deliberately counted down from issue 12 to issue 1, and in the very first issue said that issue 1 would be the very final one, unless we’d achieved our stated goal of bringing down the established music press in the UK (and thus become the establishment ourselves). We didn’t bring down the establishment, so we stopped. It was that simple. We viewed what we did as art, and the entire run of Careless Talk as a body of art, and wanted that art to be finite. I just wish more bands would take a cue from our example, and quit while they’re still creative. Plus, our goals were becoming increasingly incompatible - Steve wanted to create a fine art magazine, a place to showcase his amazing photographs. I wanted (and wanted throughout CTCL’s run) to create a viable alternative to the mainstream press, that behaved along more traditional magazine lines, albeit classier and more soulful and enthusiastic. I didn’t want to fall out with Steve like I have with most other friends when I’ve been involved emotionally with them, so I’m very happy we stopped when we did. Steve now does Loose Lips Sink Ships - and it’s fucking beautiful, man! that’s one facet of CTCL. And I oversee Plan B Magazine, where I’m trying to pass on my ideals and ways of seeing to a new generation of writers and photographers and illustrators and editors, hence a more democratic editorial line-up. I’m very proud of CTCL, but mostly of the fact we stopped EXACTLY when we wanted. How many people can say that?

You’ve written a Ramones biography. Do you feel like you know Joey Ramone through that process? And so what can you tell me about him?

I met Joey Ramone in 1990: it was my first trip to New York, I was travelling with Chris Roberts who was there to interview Debbie Harry, and for both of us it was a chance to meet our idols. Man we were so made up. Joey was absolutely brilliant: the tallest fucking dude you ever saw, he was like about six foot 10 and STILL stooping, and real friendly. Super friendly. I was supposed to be round his apartment for 30 minutes. I ended up staying there for eight hours, while he showed me his recent acquisitions (60s psychedelic posters) and played me demo tapes of local bands and his own solo stuff (never since heard again). He was ace! Pretty much everyone I spoke to for the book about him agreed with this, too. He even agreed to come down to Fun City Studios a few days later and sing back-up on a version of Rockaway Beach’ I was doing for a Sub Pop single, but in the eventuality he had to cry off because he was sick. He still called me up to apologise, and spent 15 minutes doing so. Ah well.

Dee Dee, of course, was an insane fucking comedic genius (see the new documentary ‘End Of The Century’ for further proof of that). Johnny was the world’s greatest guitarist, so good and so defined he didn’t even need to play on the last few Ramones albums. Tommy was the patient Svengali behind the scenes, responsible for putting the group together, and...man. What can I say? They were the Ramones!

What are the plans for your new magazine for Plan B.

Carry on where Careless Talk left off, but utilising a more democratic process. Basically, I’m trying to withdraw myself from daily involvement in the magazine, partly because I have to earn a fucking living one of these days, and partly because I’ve already been there, done that. that’s not to decry the enthusiasm or commitment of others, just to point out I don’t want to fake it, especially when it’s something so dear to my heart. I want us to be monthly by the end of 2006, with a circulation of 40,000+, and in a position where we can FINALLY PAY OUR FUCKING CONTRIBUTORS AND EDITORS. I think both goals are very reachable. (CTCL could easily have achieved that, incidentally, if we’d kept going, but the paper costs and our deliberate lack of caring about the business side would’ve prohibited us from ever making money. The first thing I did when I set up Plan B was to appoint a publisher, with a specific brief to make the magazine profitable, and pay those involved, without compromising our vision. We’re doing pretty well so far.) The other reason I want it more democratic, editorially, is because I’m fully aware that there’s tons of great, exciting music out there that my own tastes don’t necessarily cover...or maybe, it’s simply that I don’t have the fucking time or energy needed.

I read in an student newspaper that one of the reasons that you’ve disbanded Careless Talk Costs Lives because it didn’t achieve the aim of replacing the mainstream magazines. Yet, your magazine has seen the death of Bang, The Fly and countless others. What exactly are the expectations for Plan B? World domination?

That’s true (see above). No. See above.

Do you think that you established the music journalist as celebrity?

Man, you are young aren’t you? Jesus, no. There are far better known names than mine even within my own severely limited field. Back in the day, I used to be hailed as the last of a dying breed (the cult of the critic) but I very strongly suspect that that is just down to who is watching, who is listening, who is passing judgement. I have no idea how to answer that. If I’m famous, it’s only within an extremely small group of people. I like the idea of critics having opinions and personalities that you can pin those opinions on, and thus the reader is able to make up their own mind as to whether the art the critic is discussing is good or bad. Is that such a bad thing to want? Surely, it’s central to the very craft of the music critic?

(Note, I say ‘critic’. I’ve never been fucking journalist. I wouldn’t know how to report a news story if you paid me - although, you wanna offer money? I’ll see what I can do. Also, I really am NOT a fan of what some people call the ‘truth’ or objectivity, or history, or anything associated with journalism. I’m in the entertainment industry. The worst crime of all is to be boring.)

Anyway. I’m not a critic or a journalist. See my Friendster profile. I’m a tastemaker.

Do you think the countless law suits have affected the Nirvana legacy in that, with each year, their significance and power are being related more to the celebrity law suits than the music?

See answer above. Sorry, don’t keep track of old flames. Having said that, I think that the 11-year-old kids wandering around wearing images of Kurt on their chest aren’t even aware of any celebrity lawsuits pursuing their idol beyond the grave. They just dig the image, the assumed attitude, the music. So there’s influence for you? As for me, I don’t know fuck all about lawsuits either. It certainly doesn’t affect how I view them - in my memory, in print, or on my CD-player.

What has been exciting you - musically?

I love that Detroit sound - The Dirtbombs, Detroit Cobras, KO And The Knockouts. Joanna Newsom, Scout Niblett and CocoRosie are four females who’ve been beguiling and charming me for the past year or more. I totally appreciate being sent all the early Fall reissues from Sanctuary Records: this is very close to the absolute core of my musical being. I was extremely proud to be asked to write sleeve notes for the recent Daniel Johnston tribute album. The Mae Shi - a fun and exciting noise band from California - recently blew me away at a Bands Against Bush festival in Olympia. Calvin Johnson gets mightier with each passing year. The Concretes’ new album is good, solid, drop-dead gorgeous, somnambulist pop music. Kelis rocks the house. I love the shamblic amateurism of The Streets (a Yeah Yeah Noh for 2004!). Misty’s Big Adventure (an eight piece arkestra from Birmingham) do happy and ska better than anyone since Jad Fair and The Specials, respectively. !!! and Spektrum are down with that post-punk disco sound. The Legend! has been particularly fine in recent live performance, never the same twice. Fucks, Gin Palace, Barbs, Dresden Dolls, Dead Brothers, Bettye Swann, The Microphones, Prefects, Tom Waits, M Ward, http://www.blocksblocksblocks.com, Hyper Kinako, Da Costa Wolttz’s Southern Broadcasters, The Plant Life, Nagisa Ni Te, Shoplifting, Tenniscoats, Lightning Bolt, Le Tigre, The Pipettes, The Beatles, Tokyo Explode, The Barcolana Pavilion, The Saints, Ramones, Marianne Faithfull, The Casual Dots, Lesbo Pig, Shitmat, Coach Whips, Electrelane...all of them have had their moments (and often a lot more).
I guess I’m the wrong (right) person to ask this question of.

You’ve always been a big supporter of Daniel Johnston - were you involved in the recent charity album?

Absolutely. Wrote the sleeve notes. It was a privilege (I guess it’ll have to be as I still haven’t been paid for them).

I felt, after listening to the album, that Daniel is a brilliant Brill Building like pop writer whose songs can be adapted to fit any style of music. Do you think that people will overlook his disability and focus on his music with the release of the forthcoming album?

I certainly hope so. Although I’ve gotta say that I personally don’t rate ANY of the covers - aside from a superlative cover of ‘The Story Of The Artist’ by M Ward, that actually made me cry the first time I heard it, seriously. Some are ok. But, M Ward aside, I’d prefer to hear ALL of the songs performed by Daniel himself. Definitely, But yeah, his pop songs can be adopted to fit any style, I agree with you there. Just a listen to K McCarty’s amazing Daniel Johnston covers album from ‘91 (I think) would have proved that. The lady adapts a great many styles in her search to do Daniel justice.

Do you think there is a viable independent scene in England after the drought of the early 2000s?

Fuck yes. It just depends where you look.
Cheers Paul. I better go to bed now.

To check out Everett’s magazine please go to: http://www.planbmag.com. It’s a Poptones.co.uk’s favourite.  And Everett True?  A Goddamn English Legend!

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