The return of Everett True | 13. Manflu
Yesterday’s entry was such a find, I was seriously thinking of stopping the series again. But fuck it. I’m in England in three or four days time – first time in four years – and something needs to be done to keep the nagging fear away, feed the emptiness inside.
This is nothing like, nothing like at all.
This group are startling. I know little to nothing about them. Each time I think I’ve figured out their sound I watch another video, and my nerves are shot to ribbons once more.
This first one grabbed me, for sure – particularly the video, which is disconcerting and not in a comfortable way. I love the insistence in the vocals, and the gradual breakdown and build-up throughout the song. I ain’t sure if the lyrics are telling me what lyrics do, but the vaguely sinister carnival atmosphere doesn’t help. Is this what life that isn’t Brisbane (The Gap, Brisbane) is like? I almost want to be there, to be beaten and bullied into compliance in the snow. The music… it’s where the music threatened to go sometime in ’79 in the U.K. but never quite did because it was way too alienating. Or during the 80s. Or whenever.
But then this performance grabbed me even more. This performance is so fucking great. (“Proper Music Journalism(TM)” ©Everett True 2014)
Wait, they have a song called ‘James Chance’ AND a song called ‘Lydia Lunch’? Whoa. No, I’m hallucinating. There’s a Cure cover that needn’t be. And then there’s this…
I ain’t selling this to you too well, I can tell.
This one is plain scary.
Post-pre-prog-punk-jagged-petulant-No Wave. Not. Watch me flounder! Watch me flounder!
As ever, from the source.
Photography: Michael Johnson