In the past few years, Detroit s Jack and Meg White have, in conjunction with a stream of similar-minded bands, revitalized rock music. Their sound is raw, stripped right back back to the primal fury and alienation of bluesmen like Son House and protopunks The Stooges and the MC5. In the Stripes hard knocks hometown of Detroit, an entire scene has emerged rudimentary, primordial garage rock championed by legendary names such as Mick Dirtbombs Collins, Jack White s own Third Man Records, Electric Six, and producer Jim Diamond. Over in Brooklyn meanwhile, loft parties are all the rage fueled by vodka stills and loud music, featuring names such as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Liars, and Oneida. Writer Everett True has already covered much of this music in his own underground UK rock magazine Careless Talk Costs Lives. Now he goes public with his passion, delving deep into the lives of the personalities who make up the scenes the countless hours touring, the celebrity girlfriends, the parties, the power, and the people.
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 write about music, and my life. I do not separate one from the other, nor am I ashamed of voicing opinion. Indeed, I believe opinion to be central to my craft. I do not need others to tell me what to enjoy and I do not trust critics who claim to be impartial because – at the very least – they have not fully thought through what they are doing.
I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.