for better or for worse

Emily Alexander: I didn't see Alan until toward the end of when he was staying at his parents' house. It was really weird at first, seeing him in that setting. Even back when I first met Alan, and he hadn't really found himself yet, he was still a rock star to me. He had a glamorous life, even if it was dime-store glamour. He was a Londoner, not a small town boy with a ramshackle house by the sea.

And yet there he was. I met him in his kitchen. It was one of those little houses where you feel like you're bigger than normal, or at least you're aware of the size of your body. You bump into the door frames trying to get into the rooms. His mum made us Earl Grey tea. His parents seemed very traditional, very English. His mum asked me where I was from, I said New Jersey, originally, but my family was from the UK. Keeping it simple, you know.

We chatted idly. I could tell Alan didn't really want to talk about anything serious. I just asked him how he was doing, how he'd been spending his time at home. I filled him in on my own goings-on. I told him about cute things my nieces Hollie and Maggie had done. It was completely shallow, completely unlike any conversation I'd ever had with Alan...and really nice, in a way. Normal. Like we were friends. Like....

He asked me to step into his room for a moment, because there was something he wanted to tell me. Suddenly I was nervous. I felt a cold sweat on my hands. Now he looked serious.

"Emily," he said, "I don't know how to say this."

I thought I knew what was coming, then. All those times we had spent together, even when we argued, even when I was so frustrated that we were butting heads...we had gotten so close. I was beginning to see him as someone who I could really trust. And someone I really...you know.

"I've been thinking this week," he went on. "And I realized there are some changes in my life that I've been needing to make for a while. Some things maybe I should have done. Or not. I don't know. The point is I...well."

I said, "You don't have to say it, I know." I was leaning forward. My heart was racing. I wanted so badly to hear those words leaving his lips. I wanted to tell him I loved him too. I did. Did you know if you just think about raising your arm, it goes up a little bit? My hand was moving toward him just from the sheer power of thought. He opened his mouth.

"I'm quitting the band."

"You what?!"

He just stared at me. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Nothing. I...nothing." I was sweating even worse then. There was a ringing in my ears. I was hardly even thinking about what I was going to do, how this was going to affect me, how it meant I was essentially out of a job. All I was thinking about was that it was something really big, really scary, and unexpected. He went on.

"I've had enough. I'm done. My soul was eroding. It didn't go into meaningless sexual encounters with fans. Well, it did. But it went into the songs as well. And I need it back. I need to be whole."

I should have guessed. It brought me back to something Tristain said. He said he wrote songs so he could empty himself, could make himself disappear by letting everything he was bleed out onto the paper, like a leaky pen.

And that wasn't Alan. That's what I should have known. Alan was different. Alan was so unlike Tristain because he had a desire to be alive, be whole. He wanted to live.

Lane Kennedy: It was a misty morning in London.

Emma Marx-Hall: It was the first time we'd seen Alan in two weeks. He looked really good. Alan's a nice looking boy. I knew there was a reason I'd had my eye on him in the students' union that one night. He had finally been sleeping, been eating right and all that. The dark circles under his eyes were gone, and he looked healthy. He wasn't that talkative, but when he did talk, it was calm and easy.

I think we all looked much more normal than usual. We didn't look like rock stars for the first time since...well, probably since the first time we were Knave of Hearts. I just wore an old pair of trousers and a big cardigan, and a scarf tied round my head and my hair pulled back. Lane was in a trench coat, and Tom was inexplicably wearing a Chicago Bears sweater. I remember because we took a photo in the café afterward.

We went to Millennium Bridge. It was weirdly quiet. And weirdly no one recognized us. No one asked why we were bringing huge bags on the Underground. No one asked us what we were doing on the bridge there. They just walked by, like ghosts in the fog.

Tom pulled out his lighter and said, "Are you sure you want to do this Alan?"

"No," said Alan. He was laughing though. "But it's a bit too late to question it. We didn't bring these all here for nothing did we?"

"All right then," said Tom. "Hand over the good stuff."

Alan's bag was full of notebooks. He had loads of notebooks. I hadn't even known about all of it. There were some that were full of pictures and clippings. Inspiration, he said. There were photocopies of pages from novels with his scribbles in the margins. It was a peek into Alan's brain, is what it was. And Alan's brain was a strange but beautiful place, I think.

The first one, though, was a hardbound one with a red cover. It said 'RECIPES' on the front, and he'd put 'for disaster' underneath in marking pen. That was probably going to be the name for the third album, but those lyrics weren't going to be on it. They were the ones he'd given me before his breakdown. The ones that made no sense to anyone. Weird, schizophrenic things.

It was hard to get the cover to burn, but it did eventually. Then it went into the water.

We burned all the notebooks. After the notebooks we burned the music, and then we crumbled up the demo tapes—which a lot of them were actually CDs, and even more of the demos were digital files which we had deleted off our computers already, but that's anticlimactic. Lane said it was pollution, and we all laughed. Tom said it was probably polluting the world wherever it was and in whatever form, and I said Rock & Roll Ain't Mind Pollution and Alan said maybe we should have kept writing songs because we were obviously brilliant, and we all laughed and hugged and cried a little bit.

A police officer came round and asked what we were doing and if we were authorized to dump into the Thames and we said no and Alan said we had a heavenly mandate and the copper said "You're not in Heaven unfortunately, you're in my jurisdiction" which we thought was clever, and we said we'd leave and if there was any trouble they could bill it to the record company, and the officer asked what we were dumping and we told him and he said it was no problem really and left us alone.

"How punk rock of us," said Tom, and we went and had tea and pretended we had nothing good to talk about.

Lane Kennedy: I was the first one to leak the news. Natalie had been trying to reach all of us, because she was going to be visiting Goldsmiths College to see about doing a degree there. I finally turned my mobile on and picked up on the bus back home,

"Where've you been?" she said.

I told her "Millennium Bridge."

She said "Why were you on Millennium Bridge?"

I said "Throwing some things off the side."

She said "What things?" and I thought about it for a moment and said "Dreams we don't believe in anymore."

"It's the band, isn't it," she said. "I had a feeling it was near the end."

I said yes. I told her not to go round telling everyone, and she promised not to. But I did feel like I removed the stopper from something after I told her. Like after I told her, I could tell everyone.

Tom Thorogood: Lane phoned me and said Natalie Leonard had phoned her, and I phoned my mum and dad and Dave, and they all told me I had done the right thing. Which surprised me; I was expecting them to be a bit upset actually. But they said more or less that everything comes to an end, good and bad, for better or for worse.

Emma Marx-Hall: Tom phoned me and I phoned Alan and asked him when we should tell management and Marque. Alan said Emily already knew. I thought about phoning George but I decided to sleep on it instead. I phoned my sister Katie, and then I got back on the Tube and rode all the way across London to my parents'. Katie and Renée and Charlie and I went into the kitchen and baked supper, and the girls all went upstairs while the pies were in the oven and jumped on the beds in heels and put on too much makeup and took awful pictures of ourselves.

We stayed up all night and had a heart-to-heart, even baby Charlie joined in. There was loads of giggling and a bit of crying. All told that day was filled with probably more crying than I should ever do in one day again. But I realized when I was there that all the time I'd been in the band, I had to act like a grown-up, since I had a proper job and all, and I really wanted, really deeply, to be young again.

Alan Léonin (reading from a Knave of Hearts blog post): Dear friends,

I know that you have been waiting to hear news from the Knave front.

Emma Marx-Hall: I was like, Alan, you used 'I' instead of 'we', did you do that on purpose? And he said he did, because he didn't want to speak for all of us when he could only speak for himself. So much for speaking for an entire generation.

Alan Léonin (reading from a Knave of Hearts blog post): I know that I have been gone a while. Things have been nice, and quiet. I've been spending time in my hometown, with my family. I've been doing a great deal of thinking.

Something I realized was that in my life, I have been constantly putting myself under pressure. Sometimes things have gotten out of control. I knew it was time for a change.

We had a very long talk, and we realized that it was time for all of us. On respectful, friendly terms, we have dissolved the band. Knave of Hearts is no more.

Don't despair. I know our band meant a lot to many of you. I remember being a child and learning that one of my favorite bands split, and I was filled with anger and disappointment. I thought, how could they abandon me?

The words are still there. They still mean just as much. And more importantly, what this really means is that we have passed the torch along to each and every one of you. If there is a change you want to see enacted, find a way to work toward that change. Be positive. Be confident. Be open and true.

The future is yours, and it is rough and shapeless but that just means you can make it into anything you want. Make your own history.

As for me, I will be returning to university to finish up my studies in Anthropology & Sociology. And I will not forget the friends I've made along the way.

"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold."

Love,

Alan Léonin

Theresa Hawk: I wanted to cry, but Alan's letter made me feel strong. It confused me a little, too, because I thought Rivka dying was the reason why he wanted to break up the band, and now he was thanking the fans and blaming himself for 'putting too much pressure on himself'.

Alice Hughes: I really took the message to heart, I think. It reminded me that in a sort of roundabout way, Knave was the reason why I felt I had a future. When I was first put in the hospital, I was convinced I had no future. I didn't understand why people were trying to save me. I thought that if I died, the world would go on and be happy without me. That people would breathe easy because I wasn't being a burden on them anymore.

I realized it didn't matter what anyone tried to tell me. My parents were homophobic and they always said things that were discouraging, like that I had to stop 'trying to rebel' by 'acting like a deviant' and

'be more responsible' so 'maybe I'd have a chance'. They thought I was stupid; they thought my bad marks were because I didn't have the mental capacity, not because I was too distracted or unmotivated to work hard. People in school made fun of me because I'm overweight. Natalie Leonard didn't let any of that bother her. And through Knave of Hearts we figured out what it was we ought to be doing.

In August 2008 we started playing music as F Yourself, which we later changed to Damaged Goods, same as the magazine, when Alan's mother told us she didn't like us having such a rude band name, didn't think it was doing us any good to tell people 'F Yourself' whenever they asked what our band was called. Brilliant woman, Elizabeth Leonard. If she ever gives you advice, you listen, all right?

And you know, it did make a difference that we knew Knave. Emma played with us our first performance, and everyone came out to see her since she'd never played a concert since Knave of Hearts' last show in Japan. But evidently they thought we were doing all right with the music, because they came out to see us after that. And they kept coming. We're no Knave of Hearts, we'll never have a number one hit, but, you know, our lives aren't the same as they were before.

That's what it meant. Make your own history.

Emily Alexander: I went to see Pete Davies after Knave broke up. It had been ages since I'd even spoken to him. Marianna was there and the first thing she did was tell me she was amazed by what I'd done. She said she knew Pete had picked the right person, but that even she didn't suspect that I'd lead a band to Number One and—

Oh yeah. I should mention. The day after the band broke up, I got a call from George Thompson. The day after the band broke up, In The Court of the King went platinum.

I mean, you had to expect it. The wave of publicity after the whole Rivka Fried thing had sent sales up all over again. If they had released another album, and it had been good, it would have meant even more number one hits. It would have meant unknown heights of fame. The band didn't want that, and in the end, I kind of didn't want it either.

I was telling Pete that, over tea. We were in his front room and I told him, "You must think I'm crazy."

He said he didn't think I was crazy. He said, "You're probably the smartest of all of us. The Blood Roses waited until we were already losing to call it quits. Knave of Hearts are still winning, and that's how they'll be remembered."

That was when I got upset, though. I said, I didn't want them to be people I remembered. They were so important in my life. It was stupid, I thought, because I was nearly twenty-seven and they were all a bunch of kids in university, but they had become my closest friends. I'd spent a year of my life with them, spending more time with them than anyone else. I'd foregone everything else in my universe for them, because they made me feel inspired and wanted and confident more than anyone except, well, Pete himself, and my family.

I said now I was going to start feeling a little lost.

Pete said, "I've been hearing from some other young bands who thought they could try the same trick on me as Knave of Hearts did, and they were right. There's a lot of talent out there."

I said, "I want to start working again—but not yet." I told him it wasn't just about having something to inspire me and make me feel wanted and confident, it was about them. It was about my friendship.

Pete smiled and said, "That's what I thought you were going to say." He was just testing me. I think he had some ideas about what I was going through.

That's when I knew I had to tell Alan.

Alan Léonin: I was preparing to head back to university. I had all my books in order and I had sent some emails off to my professors explaining why I had taken a leave of absence and everyone more or less accepted why I was going to do more courses than the usual amount in one year. I was sitting reading an article when there was a knock on the door.

It was Emily. I remember feeling this rush of emotion.

She said she wanted to talk, so we put on some Depeche Mode and sat around chatting about what we were going to do now that the band had broken up. I thought it seemed very superficial. I asked her what she had really come over for.

She said, "Listen, Alan, I want to know if you and I could have dinner sometime. Not like we're doing right now, as Alan the musician and Emily the band manager, but just as Alan and Emily."

I said, "What are you trying to tell me?"

Let's see, I want to get her words right...

Emily Alexander: "I know we didn't always get along, but it's always made me so happy that we got to be so close. And I don't want to lose that. Because I think I'm falling in love with you."

Alan Léonin: I think I sat there like an idiot and said, "All right," which is about the worst thing I could have said. And then I said, "That's what you thought I was going to say that day when you visited me at home," and she nodded, and then I said, "I should have done," and I kissed her.

Emily Alexander: So that was that.

We expected some people to be really surprised when they saw us together, but most people weren't surprised at all. Everyone seemed to think we'd been really obvious, and that it was just a matter of time. Which I guess is true in a way. It's like what I was saying about us making compromises. We were, in a way, preparing for our life together. We were working out our differences, figuring out how to relate to each other in a really personal way.

I don't know what to say about Alan and Tristain. I know there must be enough similarity that Natalie had started liking Knave because she'd been a fan of Nevermore and she saw the similarities. And she's Alan's cousin. But I think Alan let himself grow up, and become more mature. That's why it wasn't as weird as it might have been, him being six years younger than me. Alan's older than his age. Tristain

always thought childhood was an idyllic time, something he wanted to return to. And in a lot of ways—and I don't think it's really disrespecting his memory to say it—he was really immature, and didn't care about working past that. Alan cared very much.

We started renting an apartment together, a really nice loft, and while he went to university, I started working with a couple of new bands. Things are a lot quieter now than they were last year.

Lane Kennedy: I'm done university now, and I've gone corporate; shock and horror, I know. I do logo and graphic design. Music was never my number one interest, but I still play. I'm learning guitar.

Emma Marx-Hall: I'm back at uni too. I don't know exactly where doing Media Studies will take me, but it's incredibly interesting now that I've been on the other side of everything I'm looking at and reading. My specialty, and what I'm going to be writing my final dissertation on, is to do with the interaction between religion and pop culture, and what the connection is between various religious institutions and censorship in the twenty-first century. It's going to be quite a ride.

I should have you know I still am more or less the same person I was when I was in the band. Maybe my personality's a little less extreme, but if you want to laugh at the failure of my integrity and my descent from pop princess into argle-wearing university student, you're going to be sorely disappointed. I'm still the same Emma. I sometimes even wear a tiara to class. I do have a pair of argyle stockings actually, but no sweater vests and collared shirts for me. I'm still the same girl. Maybe a little older, a little wiser, still single and looking oh pretty gents and ladies of London, but the same girl.

Tom Thorogood: I'm actually the only one who kept playing in bands. I really loved the camaraderie, the collaboration. I'm now in a band called Neon Eagle. It's much more of a down-and-dirty rock and roll thing than Knave ever was. We didn't want to ride on the Knave of Hearts express train to success, especially because it wouldn't work—we sounded and looked nothing like Knave. I mean, if Alan had ever found a hole in his trousers, he would have thrown them out, you know? I picked a stage name—Thomas Aquinas, like the saint—and we did the Paul McCartney & Wings thing, we toured universities and small clubs, little dives, that sort of thing.

We've now moved on to slightly bigger bars and nightclubs, and people know that I'm Tom Thorogood, so it's not a big secret anymore, but I still use the name Thomas Aquinas because I like separating what I do with Neon Eagle from what I did with Knave of Hearts. I don't think one was better than the other, but I really did like getting dressed up in velvet and fur.

On the other hand, now I get drum soloes.

I've also got back together with Stephanie. We had a long talk, and did a lot of sorting out, because both of us saw the light and figured out that the two of us work really well together, and that we were both being really stupid, and mainly that I was being really stupid and that I was just making myself really unhappy. So now we're getting married next year. I think it will be another adventure.