Break the Chain - Volume Three

A5, 36 pages

£3.23 (+ £4.03 p&p)

I’ve got a soft spot for Break the Chain. Nothing in its pages is relatable to my life – my knowledge of post-hardcore and post-punk music is shaky, I rarely share my political views and the closest I’ve ever gotten to Jacksonville, Florida is Canada. I am firmly outside of the target demographic.

I think the thing about this zine which resonates with me the most is its earnestness. Its cut-and-paste aesthetic is reminiscent of the early zines of the sixties and seventies, hastily photocopied, stapled and distributed while the pages were still warm. There’s a lot of heart in its pages.

The third issue offers more psychedelic artwork from Stacey Matchett, an intriguing artist who appears to have almost no online presence. Her drawings are as detailed and hypnotic as always, and they seem to be composed with a more definite sense of purpose than the pieces that have been included in previous issues.

There’s also work from an artist whose name I hadn’t heard before – Austin Redwood. His art is in total contrast to Matchett’s; serene paintings of trees and landscapes. This type of artwork in this type of zine is a surprise, but a welcome one.

In general, the band interviews are a fun read. Matt Sessions (creator of Break the Chain) has scored interviews with bands from across the Unite States, including Big Ups, Priests, UV-TV and Profit Prison. Each of the interviews are sufficiently engaging, but I can’t help but notice that most of the musicians’ answers to Sessions’ questions are astonishingly articulate, almost as if they’d had quite a lot of time to compose each response. It’s fair to say that the interviews are probably conducted long-distance, but I think this is an understandable trade-off for reaching bands outside of Jacksonville.

Sessions poses his trademark question to each of the bands: “What are you reading at the moment? Are there any books you’d recommend?” I’m still waiting for the day somebody reels off a reading list full of Andy McNab thrillers or Marian Keyes paperbacks, but the selection was as distinguished as always – titles by Joan Didion, Franz Kafka, Virginia Woolf and Arundhati Roy, amongst others. I guess artists appreciate art, no matter what the medium.

This volume is a solid instalment in the Break the Chain zine and it will be a pleasing read for fans of the first two volumes. It is interesting, impactful and illuminating – everything I’ve come to expect from this zine.

You can buy your copy of Volume Three of Break the Chain here.

Review by J.L. Corbett

Break the Chain, Volume 2

 A5, 44 black and white pages

£2.90 (+£3.62 p&p)

The second volume of Break the Chain is a battle cry from the Jacksonville punk scene. Sequels are always tricky, and so I was eager to see if zine maker Matt Sessions could pull it off.

The first interview is with Dawn Ray’d, a black metal band from the north of England (my neck of the woods, how exciting!). Reading through this interview, I was a little disappointed with myself; my surprise at the band’s articulation and love of poetry (their band name comes from a poem by Voltairine de Cleyre) spoke volumes about my own preconceptions of heavy metal bands. Much of their interview was an exploration of the power and beauty of words, and yet it ended with a reminder of the anarchy at their core - “Fuck the pigs, smash the Nazis”.

This volume also offered fantastic artwork from Matt Jaffe. His images have been created with thousands of dots, each one carefully placed, each one a crucial part of a bigger picture. Jaffe’s artwork is sharply evocative, but more importantly it teases one’s curiosity – each image bears a strange caption (“alienergy”, “sickened”, “radiate”), none of which make sense straight away.

It’s clear that Sessions has held onto the same punk ethos that birthed the fist volume of Break the Chain, and he’s built on this significantly in the second volume. The pages are crammed full of content, each item fitting well within the theme of angry protest whilst offering their own distinct point of view.

Sadly, some items fall a little short. Ed Dantès’ essay “In Prisons We Trust (part one)” is full of angry commentary, but unfortunately offers very little depth or intelligent examination of the points he is criticising. I was really rooting for Dantès – his argument started off well, gained momentum, but the deathblow never came (perhaps it arrives in part two).

This volume is a gripping read, and I think this has a lot to do with Sessions’ obvious love for the music scene in his area. It’s clear that he doesn’t make Break the Chain for profit or notoriety (you won’t find his name anywhere in these pages), but because he loves the Jacksonville scene.

On the whole, the second volume of Break the Chain is a triumph. It it builds on the themes of protest and angst introduced by its predecessor and the result is a zine which is polished and cohesive – clearly, Sessions is finding his groove.

Volume two of Break the Chain can be bought here 

Review by J.L. Corbett