Quantcast
 Everett True

The return of Everett True | 18. Cruising

The return of Everett True | 18. Cruising
Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page

Everything is awesome. Everything is cool.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s the jetlag kicking in full-time. Maybe I’ve missed the jetlag and the enforced sleep deprivation (so fucking different to the insistent sleep deprivation you get for years without end as a parent). Maybe I’ve missed the hangovers, and the knowledge that nothing will feel fine again until you’ve taken more drugs, more alcohol. Maybe those moments when I really wasn’t in control of myself – the moments after, not the moments when I was peaking – were when I was at my most creative, my most fluent. That knowledge that you fucked up again, that’s you fucked up again, that you’re fucked up again and there’s no one around to prop your ego, to offer you support or applause or… And so you have to create. I don’t know. I often feel I am not able to judge without extremes of emotional discharge. Maybe I really have missed the Art of Being Everett True.

Damn. All I know is… you send shivers down my spine, and it happens every time.

All I know is… everything is awesome. Everything is cool.

Damn. Every time. Out the blocks. Another fucking unbelievably fucking awesome fucking great band. Damn.

Go check the source. Please go check the source. Tell me I’m wrong. Just tell me that for one second I might be wrong.

“Proper Music Journalism(TM)” © Everett True 2014.


Yes. Yes. I know. Call yourself a music critic, you haven’t even… actually, I don’t. That’s you, not me. For the first time in over 25 years when filling in my landing card I didn’t write “music critic”. I wrote “university lecturer”. One to tell the kids. When the line finally came down. Just play the fucking clip. Play it.

Everything is awesome. Everything is cool.

The two comments on YouTube nail it (except for the reference to “brooding”, which I don’t hear at all).

1. Awesome.
2. “A grimy, brooding depraved slice of f****d up distorted subterranean punk”. No kidding!!!

Bangs alive. Am I on song right now, or am I on song? From Ireland.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.