Who are the Lemonheads? “Rumors of my Demise” Review
One of the chapters that most caught my attention in Evan Dando’s autobiography, “Rumors of My Demise,” deals with his so called “hoarding” instincts. Although he doesn’t admit being a typical hoarder, his funny quote took me straight to his wedding day, at the Teixeira mansion in Serra da Cantareira. After many drinks with the lovely Jessie Pinnick, followed by dancing in the main hall with Springa and others, I went desperately looking for a bathroom, opening door after door. The first one I opened, I found so many guitars nailed to the wall that I imagined I was in a music store. As I held back from peeing on the spot, I imagined the work the Dando/Teixeira entourage had done to transport so many guitars to Brazil by plane.
But let’s get to the point. The book. Well, “THE” book. Another hilarious scene from that day. As the newlyweds prepared to leave the venue, Evan decided to do what he loves most: act like a baby. He sat on the stairs leading to the street, blocking the guests’ path, surrounded by bags containing his personal belongings (which he carries everywhere), shouting “my book, my book.” At the time, I thought it was just another object he didn’t want to forget (like so many things he forgets, including cell phones and guitars), but as soon as he hugged some laptop they gave to him, I realized it was the texts that would become his first published book.
For me, reading “Rumors of My Demise” was like another conversation with Evan. This time, it was very clear, without distractions, and in some kind of English that could be understood by a foreigner. For those who had never really talked to Evan, if you don’t pay close attention to what he says, you’ll be completely lost, as he speaks in a jumbled way and with many intrusive references. Not to mention, he tends to lose interest in his own conversation very quickly. It’s often easier to keep his attention through images— like the paintings he likes to show me every time he sees me. Not that I enjoy a long relationship with Evan. Personally, I’ve met him maybe six times, not counting evasive online conversations. I simply, like a vampire, try to make the most of those encounters.
With all this context in mind, I’m amazed at the guy’s persistence—and patience—in writing his own story based on such an assertive chronology. It must have been quite a therapy, considering he usually avoids revisiting his past, even in casual conversations, much less in interviews. Reading each chapter, for me, was a revelation about what Evan really thinks while he’s kidding, playing, or even exploding. One thing he never lost sight of: his candor. Evan is one of the most honest people I’ve ever met. If he seems to care about you, he doesn’t hesitate to tell you the truth, even if it makes you uncomfortable. On the other hand, he will also do his best to cheer you up, something that comes from his side as an entertainer.
I can say that I was shocked to read about all the times Evan was arrested for drug use. But otherwise, it’s the Evan that I think we all know. He’s a guy who’s always TRYING. Even in his own book, he calls himself an addict who will never fully recover, as if he owed this satisfaction to his family and close friends. In this sense, his book serves as a “mea culpa”. No sex (he avoids the topic even when he enthuses us about some threesome in a motel with a couple of beautiful women), lots of drugs, and, of course, some rock and roll, like his amusing chronicles with Keith Richards, MC5, Fugazi, Ben Lee and even Quentin Tarantino.
Nostalgia, for Evan, is a minefield. The few people he names, like his ex-wife, Elizabeth, he passes over carefully. Antonia, his actual wife, basically gets the book dedication, but rarely appears on the narrative. He likes to preserve those he loves, only enough to thank or mourn them. His family, for example, is rarely named. Susan, Jeff, and Holly, for most of the book, are his mother, father, and sister. And that’s what he allows to matter to others. Juliana Hatfield here goes on to confirm that the two musicians never had sex —a commendable limit, according to both. And there’s the case with Courtney Love, a classic example of a toxic and abusive relationship, which left Evan in an uncomfortable situation with Kurt Cobain, as he died thinking the two cheated on him.
As we complete the book, we discover the innate talent of a musician struggling with drug addiction. It was while taking a break from it that the core of his greatest classic, “It’s a Shame About Ray,” was written.
A guy who never sought fame and just wanted his band to be taken seriously by music journalists while he, the frontman of The Lemonheads, was in gossip magazines as the face of the year. A guy who wasn’t always careful about what he said to other people, especially musicians, and developed a “never be an asshole” mantra to deal with the usual harassment from fans and the press. In fact, it’s a mantra he still maintains today.
But more than anything, “Rumors of My Demise” is a quick, shallow dive into the ocean of creativity that is Evan Dando. Perhaps deep enough to realize he’s a lucky guy, not because he was in the right place at the right time at many points in his career, but because he was raised on the dynasty of love. Although he calls himself a “grunge relic,” Evan’s difference from other music stars (most of whom have passed away) is precisely this: his loving upbringing, which led him to suffer much more in the face of his parents’ divorce.
Even tough you read his book, if you really want to understand what goes on in Evan’s head and heart, you need to talk to his Mama Dando. His sister Holly. Then you’ll understand the meaning of a home so overflowing with love that it even reaches strangers. And the affection Evan has always had for his fans is the main confirmation of this. The Lemonheads were never about Evan and a few guest musicians. They were never a collective, much less a simple rock band. The Lemonheads are what the Dando family brought and continues to bring to a world as turbulent as today’s. Although represented by Evan, the Lemonheads would never exist without Jeff, Susan, and Holly.
