A shambolic night with Evan and The Lemonheads
Review: The Lemonheads, Queen’s Speakeasy
I first saw The Lemonheads in Brixton in the early 90s as part of a grunge package tour which their natural pop sensibility put them gloriously at odds with.
In Evan Dando they had a putative pop genius who threatened briefly to fill the Kurt Cobain-shaped hole in American music. But time has not been kind, and drugs and wilful eccentricity have left Dando the last man standing.
But I come not to praise The Lemonheads but to bury them, because that is surely what Evan Dando did tonight.
The band arrived an hour late onstage with a sound mix from the dark side of hell, My Drug Buddy being the first recognisable song they played.
Then the bass guitarist and drummer disappeared for about half an hour as Dando began an extended solo acoustic slot, including a vast swathe of Lemonhead classics from Bein' Around to Alison's Starting to Happen, taking the word-perfect audience with him.
This gig is an example of why Evan Dando will never be a superstar, and yet always attains a kind of Ragged Glory.