Sabina attended university with me, and, like me, lives in a relatively small town which is, mercifully, not too far from a largish city.
This is a VERY personal and VERY opinionated 'zine. The introductory essay proposes the vital importance of maintaining a leftist voice in the face of increasing corporate hate and the growth of intolerance as 'rebellion'.
"Of Passions and Pastors" is a stunning piece on Matthew Shepard and homophobia, with a white-hot-furious coda dedicated to that paragon of filthy virtue, Fred Phelps (even I only wished him a quick, but not necessarily painless, death), who picketed Matthew's funeral with infantile anti-gay signs.
"Network Neighbourhood Moron Watch", "I Was A Teenage Alien" and "You Just Don't Get It, Governor" address various aspects of high school/teen/conformist culture as they relate to the Littleton tragedy, the murder of Reena Virk in British Columbia, and, yes, less dramatic but equally painful nastiness in YOUR town (whoever and wherever you are), and do so strongly and movingly. As she says at the end of "I Was A Teenage Alien": "Defuse a bomb - hug an alien today!". More politically, in "You Just Don't Get It, Governor!", she warns: "If you would stave off deadly rebellions, start by eliminating the things the rebels are pitting themselves against."
Her short story, "The Bomb Squad", also touches on the subject in a hopeful way.
Throw in some poetry and some well-written book and record overviews, and you get a picture of a woman I am proud to call "comrade".
This issue is for the working bisexual - specifically, the sex-trade-working bisexual (or those who are interested - oops, better be careful - wouldn't want to be seen as soliciting or endorsing the right for someone else to exist in a job that 'breaks the law' (stomp, stomp - break, damn you!)).
There is a good piece by one Andrea Michaela-Gonzalez on the ties between the bisexual and the sex worker communities (I should add, as more or less a monosexual, that I think there are ties between the gay and sex worker communities - or, rather, that there should be - I know damn well that the 'mainstream gay community' (I do NOT consider that an oxymoron) feels otherwise).
There is a fascinating piece on the history of a brothel in Butte, Montana, that is actually a designated historical site, written by the editor of ANYTHING THAT MOVES.
There is yet another compelling piece on transsexual issues, focusing on youth, by Suzan Cooke, a transwoman herself.
A compiled article on the busting of prostitutes makes a good point, derived from a poster - when prostitution is put on one's record, it tends to prevent one from getting another job, which tends to lead back to...well, you guessed it. If society REALLY wanted to combat prostitution, based on the assumption that it is a bad thing (there are certainly problematic aspects to the job, as I doubt anyone would deny), a lot of work needs to be done in terms of alternatives.
There is an article by a male escort, Aaron Lawrence, on his experiences, and an interview with Jeanna Fine, a bisexual porn star (though she doesn't actually use the label).
There is a piece about a sex therapist/surrogate partner, Linda Poelzl, who has worked with both men and women.
It never fails to strike me as ironic that many gay media outlets speak of bisexuals as somehow privileged and 'fence-sitters', when this magazine is far more radical than the vast majority of mainstream gay rags. So, even though I would say I'm probably about 80-90% 'gay' (if you MUST use that label...), I find I relate to this publication a heck of a lot more than, say, the ADVOCATE. It sticks its neck out far, and sees interesting things while there. Read it - NOW...(who says I can't be dominant? *grin*).
This is the money issue, and has lots of info on girls in business (including a piece by Jennifer Herema of Royal Trux, in which she reveals how to turn the obscene money that record companies throw at you, intending to use you as a tax write-off, to your advantage and buy some independence (as she puts it, 'to seize the means of production'), credit (how NOT to have it and still survive), how to get rich and how to stay poor (by Ann Magnuson - I notice she got in a dig or two at Kramer, her former partner in Bongwater - but, hey! I like bitchiness...) and the like.
It is not, however, an uncritical document. The interview with Dorothy Allison, the dyke author of "Bastard Out of Carolina", is revealing in its analysis of poverty and middle class definition (she reveals that, had she not cheated and obtained credit cards by fraudulent means, she probably would never have had the chance to WRITE "Bastard Out of Carolina", and that she figures she made eleven cents an hour, based on the time it took her to write it and her returns), and the piece on Kathleen Hanna analyzes her views of image, selling (out) and capitalism effectively.
There is fiction (or not) about working as a prostitute; info on how to strike it rich in Vegas (or try); and so much more.
Like every Bust I've seen (i.e. one other), it combines humour with serious messages in a readable, approachable but challenging way.
It's nice to see it hit the bookstores in my town, since the last issue was given to me by someone who received it as a promo but decided not to carry it (and to see Susie Bright as a sex advice columnist, in response to an outpouring requesting more lesbian/bi content (I must confess I was one of those so entreating, although I'm neither lesbian nor (for the most part) bisexual - to be fair, it was ONLY a suggestion on my part to be considered, not an 'order'...).
I enjoyed it and could relate to a lot of it, as a prisoner of capitalism trying to make the least number of compromises to the Beast to keep a sense of integrity.
"Life's Resume" by Tracey Abell was particularly apt, as someone who is forever being told to re-write his to make it more appealing. The frankness of her resume and its fundamental truth (even though you couldn't describe things in that way and be hired) was both amusing and telling.
So go out and get a Bust *grin*.
Two youngish, queerish folk from Russell, Pennsylvania put out a 'zine, and the world falls to its knees in admiration.
But enough about my sex life...god knows there's enough about EVERYONE ELSE's in this issue!
There are some token serious pieces about art, body image, sexism in the gay community, activism and the like, but a goodly portion of this issue is devoted to: SEX! MASTURBATION! ADULT TOYS! DEATH METAL!
I just don't know about the youth of this generation. They just don't seem serious enough about important, adult things like destroying other people's lives, greasing the bloody wheels of capitalism or being homophobic. They'd better start soon - there's a whole wide world out there to render unliveable, unfun and profitable...
To explain, one of the centerpieces of this issue consists of various punk celebrities' responses to questions about masturbation (members of God is My Co-Pilot, Pansy Division and Fifth Column), thoughtfully giving contact addresses so you can write and follow up, perhaps with questions about important issues (if you feel you must). This ties in neatly with the how-to information and the stuff on toys too.
A very, um, stimulating issue...nice to see the kids are NOT alright...
I had heard of Rita's 'zine for a long time, thanks to its inclusion in the resource page of G.B. Jones' Bitch Nation (P.O. Box 55, Station E, Toronto, Ontario, CANADA, M6H 4E1). I finally decided to take the plunge and send her a copy of my 'zine and ask for hers.
This issue is a personal 'zine about her journey to Argentina, the land where both her parents come from (though, as she puts it, only her father is a 'real Argentine', i.e. Indian, with some Arab roots as well). Since I've never been to South America (in fact, I have not been out of North America - well, I lived in Germany as a little kid, but I hardly remember it at all, so it doesn't count...), though I have a friend who lives in Peru, I was intrigued by what she had to say.
There is information here on language, ethnicity, fashion, culture and so much more. It would be pointless to describe it...you'd just have to read it and see!
If you do write to Rita, she requests that you use her full name, since she'll be moving in a few months. The e-mail might result in a faster response time, since she says she takes a long time to respond by snail means (it really wasn't that long, Rita!).
This issue focuses on women-run labels, including Ani Difranco's RIGHTEOUS BABE(anyone who thinks she's rolling in dough should check out the story of what happened around the time that NOT A PRETTY GIRL started the ball of media attention really rolling...and how the label teetered on the edge of bankruptcy); Jane Siberry's SHEEBA (the interview was done almost a year and a half ago, and she has had severe problems with the label since; its website address, is, by the way, really www.sheeba.ca; if you followed the link in the article, you'd end up at some airplane-related site, I believe...); Amy Ray of Indigo Girls' DAEMON (a on-profit label); and the only Japanese woman-run label, BENTEN (I had thought Shonen Knife's Zero Records was owned by them, but I don't believe it exists anymore, and I could be wrong...); and so much more.
There is valuable info on setting up business plans and the like too, and a few book/record reviews.
What with the first full-colour cover (a really good shot of Ani Difranco) and the eight extra pages, it's starting to be a really cost-effective publication. :)
Cool stuff - for grrrls, bois and otherwise alike.
It's not always easy for me to find this magazine. This suggests it's either popular or that the only local store that brings it in doesn't get many copies (there were three on the day I purchased it).
However, though I am not a girl, I always find something interesting in it, despite its relative brevity.
This issue features an interview with Moe Tucker, about whom I can never read enough; a self-esteem-filled piece on Juliana Hatfield (in the past, some of her remarks have depressed or angered me, since she has no reason to be down on herself from my point of view - I don't care for her music (solo - I ADORE the Blake Babies - go fig...), but she DOES it AND is out there making a place for herself...); an article on the lead singer of Tilt, Cinder Block (I'd heard of her, but never read anything about her); a profile of Mrs. Fun, a keyboard/drum duo who have worked with a lot of other women musicians; and an entertaining item on Rock Hair by Ann Wilson of Heart (the subtitle of ROCKRGRL is 'No Beauty Tips or Guilt Trips' - this does not violate that promise...); and some good album and concert reviews.
Though I think it's a bit pricey for its length (but there could be any number of reasons for that, such as the colour cover, the paper, and the relative resources of those putting it together, and I don't buy THAT many magazines, so I shouldn't complain), it still gives damn good value, and never fails to inform and entertain and empower (I think - I mean, I'm a boy, and a queer one at that - what do I know from female empowerment!?).
This book is short and to-the-point, and chockfull of actual interviews with various members of the band that time forgot.
To explain briefly, the New York Dolls existed from about 1971 to 1976 in New York City. They were a ferocious, hard-rocking, yet campy project, consisting of David Johansen on vocals and harmonica; Sylvain Sylvain on guitar, piano and vocals; Arthur Kane on bass; Johnny Thunders on guitar and vocals; Billy Doll (replaced by Jerry Nolan) on drums; and a few other people briefly in their final days.
They put out two albums, NEW YORK DOLLS and TOO MUCH TOO SOON, the latter title being prophetic. In addition to being too much in terms of being bad boys in every sense of the word, their sound was about four to five years ahead of its time.
Unlike the Velvets and the Stooges, who were in a similar position, they have not really been canonized posthumously in any big way. Perhaps because the members didn't really make huge splashes as solo artists...perhaps because they were so out of control...who knows?
In any case, this chatty, informal, obviously-loving-but-not-immune-to-criticism volume will, with any luck, help to redress this balance and give one of the greatest bands in the world some of the due it should have received then.
Ms. Brite is perhaps best known as the writer of rather ornate horror stories - and it could be argued that there would be few authors more equipped to write about Courtney Love (knowing the Diva and not currently being on her hate list is probably a plus as well).
Perhaps the best thing about this book is that it neither canonizes nor demonizes Ms. Love, which is probably for the best, since the former would be unrealistic and the latter bad for one's health (kidding, kidding...).
Instead, it exhaustively documents the events of her life, and gives enormous quantities of background material that I was unaware of (Courtney's extensive history with foster homes and juvenile facilities). It also evaluates the testimonials of others who have various axes to grind and, without dismissing what they have to say, examines their motivations and viewpoints.
If you want more insight into this alternately infuriating and fascinating figure, this is a good place to start. If you don't, then, of course, don't read it...
Ms Davis is my favourite Communist dyke (not that I can think of more off the top of my head), so I felt obliged to read something by her; plus, of course, I was familiar with her work in the 60s and 70s, and thought Yoko Ono's song "Angela" was one of the best pieces on the weak John/Yoko album "Some Time In New York City", and had seen her speak once in town about ten years ago, so that drew me to this book more.
Plus, at the risk of being cliched, I DO have an appreciation of female icons, if not necessarily the ones I'm supposed to as a gay man (I'm sorry Judy had a sad life, and that Barbra can't sing, but, otherwise, I don't identify with them); as a result, a book about Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, Bessie Smith and Billie Holliday was right up my alley, since they were fairly strong characters (even Billie, despite repeated attempts to cast her as a fragile flower; while that may have been true in later years, after the repeated indignities of being a black woman in American culture (one with same-sex tendencies, to boot) had worn her down, she was a tough character, and the life she led makes it a tribute to her endurance that she reached forty-four).
This book analyzes, as the title suggests, the contributions of these women to a strong, if complicated, sense of identity for both contemporary and future generations of women, and, particularly in the case of Holliday, makes an argument for the subversive nature of work which might, at a surface glance, seem to espouse victimization and stereotypes about women. The book is written in clear but well-thought-out and provocative language, and has flashes of wit (for example, in her analysis of Billie's "Lover Come Back to Me", Davis suggests that Billie's tone REALLY means: 'Lover, please stay away; I am immensely enjoying this state of freedom from the vagaries of love constructed according to male dominance" (p. 175)).
The other women are also subjected to a close analysis and a contextual reading, and, in the case of Rainey, who is the least famous of the trio, since her recordings are the hardest to obtain, allowed to be seen in light and background conducive to deep thought.
The story about the time Bessie Smith effectively scared off the KKK when they attempted to collapse a tent she was performing in was inspiring. A case could be made for her being one of the first Riot Grrrls, in a way, since she was assertive and took no nonsense, but still worked hard and made her mark in the world (albeit one limited by the realities of the time).
If one flaw could be found with the book, it is that it requires a solid grounding in the artists' work, since a lot of Davis' analysis depends on nuances of phrasing and tone found on the recordings; however, that is an invitation to check out their legacies, as it were. Thoughtfully, given the primitive nature of most of Smith's recordings, and the lack of preservation of lead sheets, Davis has provided an extensive lyric appendix for those selections, which would only facilitate the exploration.
All told, an intelligent and thought-provoking book, written by an academic, but with a
fairly approachable style, and definitely worth looking into.
It may be facile to compare a book written by a NYC rock 'n' roll woman on a press partially run by Richard Hell to Patti Smith...but that is what it reminds me of, okay? (And it's even more "damning" to point out that Patti's "Woolgathering" was published by Hanuman Books, as was Richard's "Artifact" (reviewed elsewhere, and the prose/poetry style of this book is reminiscent of that volume to me, while the subject matter touches on the controlled sadness and anger of Ms. Smith's "The Coral Sea"). That is not to say it is not original or that it fails to stand on its own merits, because it does in spades. However, I just wanted to get that out of the way to start with, so that what follows can be seen in context. Since there is a section of the book entitled "Abyssinia", which is the name of a Patti composition, it can hardly be coincidental...and it's not as though I compared her to Danielle Steele *grin*.
Maggie Dubris, in addition to being the guitarist/songwriter of the band Homer Erotic (who should have a CD out this year on a label called Depth of Field), has been a 911 paramedic in New York City for ten years, and her experiences in this regard inform most of the book. The main text deals with events and ideas that occur to her while working - some are sad, some funny, some blisteringly sarcastic - all are moving. There seems to be a subtext about someone close to her dying, possibly of AIDS (on which point, the cover artist,David Wojnarowicz, died of that damned disease in 1992, and his stories are among my favourites as well). It is, in any case, a powerful volume on loss, memory and death (for some reason, the anecdote about the original Ink Spot (a vocal group from long ago) really got to me, as did the musings about how scents or colours or sights can move one more about someone no longer here than discussing the death).
You really would have a hard time finding WILLIEWORLD in stores - possibly if you happen to be in NYC, you might stumble across it - however, this (and, as far as I know, the other titles on CUZ Editions - I'll have to check one of them out soon...) is definitely worth acquiring.
The Foxglove Collective consists of: T. Anne Archer; Mary Cavanagh; Elizabeth Greene; Tara Kainer and Janice Kirk, who all lived in Kingston at the time this project started being fleshed out in 1993.
The idea was to gather writing toward the year 2000, and, for some reason, most of the writing seemed to be looking back on the 20th century instead. This slightly puzzled both me and, when I spoke to Tara, the collective.
However, the 45 poems, essays and short stories here are a wildly varied bunch, and are rarely just nostalgic, covering such topics as racism (past and present), poor childhoods, religion and dissolving relationships.
The most famous writers here would be playwright Kate Barker, poet Michael Crummey, author Kent Nussey and poet/novelist Steven Heighton (ooooh - three from the Kingston area, although one lives in Toronto now and one is originally from Newfoundland by birth). However, everyone has something interesting to say.
My personal faves would be Patricia Nolan's "It Has A Place For Rabbits", which manages to be both ironic and moving about a relationship with a married man; "The Applicant" by Kate Barker, a disturbing, socially conscious, darkly humourous and arguably blasphemous tale; and Jocko Benoit's cautionary "Bosch's Beasts", a poem about the possible perils of techonology and consumerism.
However, as I said, it's a wonderful cross-section of cultural and social strata and approaches, and well-worth the investment and reading.
This book was originally published in 1982, and has been updated only to the extent of having a new preface that reveals why Debbie Harry and Chris Stein were probably not destined to be a couple for life (it documents an argument in which Chris is seen to have one heck of a nasty, disrespectful streak).
In addition to being a good overview of the history of the band from 1974 to 1981 (the band having reformed now and having a new album out soon probably prompted getting this book re-issued), with plenty of pictures, it reveals a lot of Debbie's thoughts about education, politics and feminism (to sum up, she considers the education system incompatible with learning; isn't political in a conventional sense, and is best described as a confused liberal; and is a dedicated fighter for women's rights, albeit not a very standard one - she fiercely critiques the bad treatment of the Runaways by the media, for example).
It's a fun book - not too profound, but nicely gossipy and entertaining - and Chris' photos and Victor Bockris' captions are always good for a laugh or a thought.
This biography was hampered from the outset by a serious problem. After dithering for a year or two, Patti finally decided she did not want to cooperate with the writer, since she was evidently concerned that her 'life' was nowhere near the stage that it should be documented and also because she was not pleased with the results of her going along with a biographer of Robert Mapplethorpe. Unfortunately, as the author points out, she also bowed out on behalf of almost every person she collaborated with musically / romantically / etc.
However, it still succeeds at its task to a great extent. By the extensive use of interviews, articles and so on, he is able to document her work in reasonable detail.
There are holes. For example, due to Patti's own tale-weaving, it is unclear exactly what kind of environment she grew up in terms of religion (religion being a major theme of her work). Also, of course, the 'silent years' (1980-1988 and 1989-1995) are not well described (those times in which she and Fred lived quietly in Detroit).
Nevertheless, it's an interesting and, of necessity, highly authored/opinionated work and helps to shed some light on the mysterious figure that is the Godmother of Punk.
When I was a child, I rooted for the villain in most stories/cartoons I saw. They seemed like the most interesting characters - as someone once said, 'The Devil has the best tunes' - and the heroes often were too perfect and, at their core, just as nasty (when I read a Mark Twain story on this very subject, I was pleased that I wasn't the only one who WANTED the ideal child to have a wretched, unfortunate life - I hasten to add I wouldn't necessarily think that if I met such a person in real life - fortunately, s/he doesn't exist).
So, when I saw a book in which the ultimate villain of childhood lore, the BIG BAD WOLF (along with the WICKED STEPMOTHER, to which Margaret Atwood retorts reasonably: 'And where was the FATHER when I was doing all these awful things?', not to mention: 'I'm the plot. You can't get rid of me, baby.'), was given a more sympathetic ear and at least an opportunity to tell his side of the story to the Brothers Grimm (who, again, come across as a good deal fouller than the Wolf), I had to take the chance.
It is more of a philosophical treatise and a 'head' book, so, if you're looking for a
thrilling plot, you're not getting it. However, it's funny and thought-provoking, and
worth the effort. Ultimately, it argues the same point as A Clockwork Orange does;
to wit, the INABILITY to commit evil is not the same as committing good.
Max's Kansas City (1965-1981), was a restaurant/bar/concert hall in New York City. During its time, the very cream of the intellectual/artistic/queer elite hung out there, ate very little, and ran up an enormous tab, thanks to the generosity of the owner, Max Ruskin, until 1974. After that, it had different ownership, and the book doesn't really much touch on that.
This book exhaustively documents who was there, the funny stories, the tragedies, and the general ambience of the club's time and place. It doesn't deal too heavily with the musicians, but they are touched upon (can you imagine Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley on the same bill? It happened there...).
The author, as her name suggests, was briefly married to and lived with the owner. Not surprisingly, the most heavily narrated and detailed sections of the book are from the time she was there; the rest is a lot of interviews and quotes, some direct and some indirect.
I could have used a bit more on the musical end of things; however, the pictures are
fabulous, and even a bit spooky at times (William S. Burroughs and Janis
Joplin at the same table? Swapping stories about heroin, perhaps?). As a
documentary, it's priceless.
I must confess I was lured this book by, er, extraneous considerations. One, that I had read Kotzwinkle's The Bear Went Over The Mountain and, since the two titles complemented each other AND the two books had a vaguely similar theme (bear becomes success in an artistic field), I wondered how parallel they were (although Kotzwinkle's was published first, Zabor had evidently been working on this book for nearly twenty years, so plagiarism/inspiration was not to be suspected). Two, that, from a queer sub-cultural point of view, Bears fascinate me (being more or less one myself - to explain, a Bear is a largish hairy queer guy - although my SnuggleOgre gets to be the infinitely cuter Otter by virtue of being so very tall and relatively slim for his height).
However, the two books are not all that much like each other. The Bear Went Over The Mountain is largely a farce and a satire on the literary celebrity scene, since the bear in it has a certain cunning, but no great intelligence and certainly no talent for writing (he steals a manuscript at the book's beginning, and acquires another at its end in his hour of greatest need).
Zabor's furball is infinitely more wise and talented - is, in fact, a brilliant jazz saxophonist (and, furthermore, while Kotzwinkle's bear is never identified as one by the eager literati who surround him, everyone seems to know immediately in Zabor's novel - which both creates less and more disbelief in the reader, who, while s/he no longer has to try and figure out why people don't know it's a Bear (since they do), is still faced with the task of wondering why most people seem so cool and collected about it). He is also much more tortured by questions of integrity, purpose, and so on. He is, in short, the philosopher artist that the bear in the other book could never aspire to (or at least not in such an intellectual way).
Zabor's great love of jazz shows through in his almost ecstatic descriptions of the Bear's musical endeavours - in fact, it is in those moments that the novel achieves its greatest triumphs, it having a slight tendency to be too in the head overall, instead of in the great big furry heart that one sees the Bear to have (he is in Love, and is thus also in Pain).
It is, nevertheless, a hypnotic and haunting book, and has an ending so beautiful as to make even cynical ol' me wipe a tear from my eye (although it is a little ambiguous, I prefer to read it in favour of True Love). If you're a fan of jazz and of philosophy, this is definitely a keeper. If you want a more fluffy (no pun intended), though no less intelligent and thoughtful, romp, try The Bear Went Over The Mountain, instead.
