Headwinds - Issue #2

A4, 24 pages (23 black and white pages, colour front cover).

£1.50 (+80p p&p)

Headwinds is a relic made in modern times. The second issue promises more of what was delivered by the first; reviews, interviews, columns and comics.

One of my favourite parts of this issue was the interviews with two ageing punk bands, because the parallels between the them are too delicious to ignore (and perhaps intentional). Culture Shock is a punk/ska outfit from Wiltshire who split in 1990 after an eleven-year run, before reforming in 2010 to put out a new LP, Attention Span. The Proletariat is an American band, originally part of the Boston hardcore scene before they split in 1985 and then reformed in 2016 to play a few shows and put out a vinyl reissue of their debut album, Soma Holiday.

Culture Shock and The Proletariat had their heydays at least thirty years ago, and both have a lot of thoughts about how returning to band life in the age of the millennials is a bit of a culture shock (you’re welcome). For all their similarities, the two bands have somewhat opposing views on the evolution of the musical landscape over the last few decades. Both interviews are an interesting read, even more so when read one after the other.

Another highlight was Mike G’s column detailing his stint as a homeless youth. The column doesn’t quite fit alongside the album reviews, band interviews and comics in the zine, but that scarcely matters. It’s an honest account of a difficult time – even though most readers won’t relate to the panic of not having a home, they will relate to him as a fellow human.

If pressed to find a fault with Headwinds, I would perhaps shoot a side-eye over to the comics. The art style is endearing, but the stories do seem to meander and then cut off somewhat abruptly. I do feel it’s worth remembering, however, that comics are more mainstream than they have ever been before, which means that the bar for them as an art form is staggeringly high.

Much like its first issue, the best part of the second issue of Headwinds is its sense of nostalgia for a time passed. Generations X and Y collide in these pages, and the two fit together wonderfully.

To keep up with Headwinds’ latest updates, you can follow @tblastzine on Twitter. You can get a copy of your own through PayPal by emailing HeadwindsZine@gmail.com.

Review by J.L. Corbett.

Synesthesia

A5, 20 colour pages

£3.62 (+ £3.62 p&p)

Synaesthesia (the condition) is sensory confusion. Your house tastes like cake. Your lover’s voice smells like fresh cut grass. Your favourite song feels crunchy. The number seven is green, for some reason.

Synesthesia (the zine) dives headfirst into delirium. Stacey Matchett evokes a sense of desperate, inescapable confusion in her pastel colour palettes, bold rainbow scribbles and delicate black linework - it’s a beautiful assault on the senses. 

Usually when poetry and artwork appear together in print, the images end up playing second fiddle; they usually serve as garnish, pretty pictures to illustrate the words. Matchett turns this convention on its head. The bright images dominate the pages of this zine, holding hostage the reader’s psyche and rendering the accompanying poetry somewhat redundant. It’s not that the poetry is particularly poor, more that within the psychedelic pages of Synesthesia its role is secondary to the artwork.

When I first encountered Matchett’s work in volume one of Break the Chain, I described it as “grunge expressionism”. Reading through Synesthesia, it seems clear to me now that her work is too nebulous to fit within that category; her art style shifts throughout the pages, and yet each drawing bears her stylistic signature.

Matchett does a great job of creating a collection of artwork centred upon a theme without falling into predictability – each page explores a different facet of a disorganised mind and does so with a touching vulnerability.

You can buy your copy of Synesthesia here.


Review by J.L. Corbett

Break the Chain: Volume 1

 A5, 28 (mostly) black and white pages

£3.76/$5.19 (+p&p)

The first volume of Break the Chain (created by Matt Sessions) is an anarchist’s guidebook to the punk rock underbelly of Jacksonville, Florida. My perception of Florida has come almost exclusively from the images on my television screen; endless sunshine, orange juice aplenty, home of Disney World – everything that my dreary British life is not.

It was quite the surprise to find that this Floridian zine is gritty, anarchistic and in grey scale. The overall appearance of Break the Chain is dark and distinctive. Particularly strong is the artwork from Stacey Matchett, a sort of grunge expressionism wherein the figures in all her drawings share the same tired gaze. Their eyes haunt and resonate.

The first interview is with Woven In, a surf-rock regular on the Jacksonville music scene whose responses to standard interview questions are refreshingly intellectual and offer a surprisingly deep contrast to her “beach-goth, post-punk dream-come-true” music. Not long after reading her interview, I was listening to her music on Youtube.

Also interviewed are black metal grindcore band, Wørsen. Whilst they do seem somewhat excited about the release of their newest album, the theme of their interview appears to be apathy. They say “[the gigs] tend to run together after a while”, and when speaking about their songs they make comments such as “It’s also one of the newest songs we’ve written, so I’m not burnt out on it just yet”. It’s a shame – had they been a little more enthusiastic about their own music, it would have been a lot easier for the reader to get on board with them. I found myself more interested in finding out about Sickmark, the German power-violence band briefly mentioned at the beginning of the interview.

All sense of apathy is quickly forgotten with the zine’s final interview: an in-depth conversation with Penelope Spheeris (director of landmark punk films such as The Decline of Western Civilisation and Wayne’s World). How on earth did the creator of Break the Chain pull that one off? It doesn’t matter, of course (but I need to know!).  Spheeris speaks with great articulation about the punk rock aesthetic, the importance of dedication and devotion to one’s work and the controversial impact of The Decline of Western Civilisation, which was banned after just one screening in Los Angeles. It’s a strong end note and an impressive coup for the first volume of Break the Chain.

Break the Chain is definitely worth a read. As someone across the Atlantic I enjoyed the zine as a brilliant showcase of the talent in Jacksonville’s alternative community, and I expect Jacksonville natives will enjoy it as a token of pride for their hometown.

Volume one of Break the Chain can be bought here .

Review by J.L. Corbett

Ellipsis Zine: One, A flash fiction anthology

A5, 62 black and white pages.

Print: £5 (+p&p), digital download: £3

On the back cover of this zine lies a strong statement. “Ellipsis Zine: One, a flash fiction anthology,” it explains, “[contains] 1000 words or fewer from 57 of the best contemporary flash fiction writers”.

Hmmm, we’ll see, I thought to myself, flipping back to the first page. It’s fairly common for zine makers to be enthusiastic about the work they produce, sometimes so enthusiastic that it becomes difficult for the material itself to measure up to expectations. So, when I see creators using words like “best”, I become cynical.

As it turns out, the editor of Ellipsis Zine (Steve Campbell) wasn’t far off when he used that bold little word. I spent a week reading this zine; a handful of stories at a time whenever I had a spare moment, and I can say with confidence that there isn’t a weak link in the collection. These stories are literary fiction in its tightest form. Each word has a purpose; scenes are written so cleverly that only a few brief paragraphs are necessary to project an entire story into the mind of the reader.

Late one night I read My, She was Yar, by Zoë Meager, only to lie awake in bed wondering about how young families cope when a child dies. Several days after reading Bird Girl, by Janelle Hardacre, I was still daydreaming about how technology could progress in the next few years, and the impact that would have upon our identities.

Each story is unique, and yet they are drawn together. The number one appears in this collection again and again, as a young girl’s new home, as a lost love sitting one carriage away, as the sole meeting between father and child, as a missed opportunity with a one true love*. A flock of sheep trample across the cover, all moving forward save for one, who looks back at the reader. Whether the recurring number is a conscious choice by the editor is ambiguous, but I prefer to believe that all these number ones are kismet, unexpectedly brought together for the first print issue of Ellipsis Zine, for its number one.

I had two warring emotions as I read this zine. As a reader, I was delighted. As a writer, I was filled with envy.

Issue one of Ellipsis Zine can be bought from their online store, here, and for news and updates follow them on twitter.

*House Number One by Eleanor Jones, One Carriage Away by Amanda Quinn, What Happens When Hot Air and Cold Air Meet? by Danny Beusch and Daisy Chain by Debbi Voisey, respectively.

Review by JL Corbett

Headwinds - Issue #1

A4, 24 pages (23 black and white pages, colour front cover).

 £1.50 (+£1 p&p)

“Headwinds… refers to things blowing in the opposite direction to the one you’re moving in,” explains Mike G in the introduction to his fanzine of the same name. This theme of pushing through mainstream culture persists throughout the first issue, which contains comics, band interviews and reviews.

The layout of Headwinds is immaculate; it looks less like a zine and more like something you’d find in your local newsagents nestled between NME and Mojo. The time invested in its quality makes it a pleasant read – there’s no text disappearing into the centre crease or dodgy photocopying going on here.

Whilst aesthetic appeal is important, it means nothing without compelling content. Luckily, Headwinds is as interesting as it is pretty. Given that the zine only costs £1.50 (£2.50 online), I was surprised by just how much content there was – a couple of lengthy interviews, comics, articles, and tons of underground gig reviews – and how decidedly different the items were from those typically seen in mass-produced magazines.   

I particularly enjoyed the interview with Emma, lead singer of The Natterers, which covered topics such as world environmental issues, the perks and dangers of living in a digital age and the declining bat population in the UK. It was weird, and I liked it.

Stranger still was Mike G’s retrospective account of the Treeworgery Tree Festival, which he attended in the summer of 1989. Waiting 28 years after the fact to write about an obscure festival in Cornwall doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t. But it was so well-written that I found myself filled with nostalgia for a place I’d never been, and for a time in which I hadn’t existed. I found myself feeling increasingly wistful for hitch-hiking, serendipitous friendships and weekend tickets for £20.

Headwinds feels like a relic from the past, but it doesn't come across as dated. Perhaps it’s Mike G’s unabashed enthusiasm for the stuff he’s writing about that gives the zine a fresh, current feel, or maybe it’s down to its overall polished appearance. Who knows? The one thing that’s clear is that it’s very tricky to write about underground culture in an accessible way, and Headwinds is an excellent example of how to do it correctly.

To keep up with Headwinds’ latest updates, you can follow @tblastzine on Twitter. You can get a copy of your own through PayPal by emailing tblastzine@gmail.com.

Review by JL Corbett. 

Cheeky Monkey

16.5cm x 24cm, 32 colour pages, colour cover.

£3.50 p&p

One of the great things about zines is that they can be about absolutely anything. Having said that, I was rather taken aback recently when a guy approached my stall at Leeds Zine Fair and handed me what appeared to be a zine geared towards children.

Cheeky Monkey follows its eponymous character and his raccoon sidekick on their bizarre, occasionally psychedelic quest to uncover the truth about unseen character Ali-Ra-Ra, and why he’s pestering the entire jungle community for avocados. The story manages to be zany enough for kids to enjoy, whilst remaining sufficiently wholesome to keep their parents happy.

The creators (Fred Morris and Dominic Linton of King Louie's Lab) have clearly done their homework with Cheeky Monkey. They’ve borrowed devices from kids’ television programmes and made them work on the page. The narrative voice is reminiscent of the speaking style from currently popular cartoons such as Peppa Pig or We Bare Bears, and the main characters pose on the back cover like they’re in the opening credits of a kids’ TV show.

It’s a good effort from the South London zine-makers, especially considering that they’re treading new ground in marketing their zines to children. With luck, Cheeky Monkey could be a gateway for younger readers discovering the world of zines.

Cheeky Monkey is available for purchase here.


Review by JL Corbett.

Null Point - Issue 002

A6, twenty black and white pages, black and white cover.

£0.35 p&p

 

The second issue of Null Point wastes no time in telling you exactly what it is.

“This is about the ideas, this is not about recognition.”

It’s a bold move for a creator to shun acknowledgement - especially nowadays, when branding is crucial and content is (wrongly) considered secondary. Nevertheless, Null Point doesn’t stray from its ethos. The zine is priced modestly (just enough to cover its printing costs and nothing more) and all its contributors have been given pseudonyms.

Although no theme is stated outright, the zine’s articles and flash fiction pieces tend to focus upon the sense of disconnection that we all feel in an increasingly digital world. The artwork is particularly effective. The drawings are grim, they don’t try too hard, and the result is a gut punch. Perhaps most unsettling of all is the advert for a product that would have been hilariously far-fetched ten years ago, but which nowadays leaves the reader wondering, “Wait – is that real? Can I buy that?” 

If you’re looking for a light read after a long day at work, this probably isn’t the zine for you. Seriously, it’ll bum you out. If, however, you’re a fan of dystopian fiction and you’re feeling introspective, you will love Null Point.

All three issues of Null Point are available for sale at www.nullpoint.org  

Review by JL Corbett