James Brown dips his toes back into the world of zines, with a nostalgic look back at his eclectic cultural hoard.
“Megan, where’s that zine I was reading?” I hollered up the stairs.
“Any magazines you have left lying around are in the new magazine rack you bought. That’s what it’s for…” came the reply. I could hear her eyes rolling from upstairs.
Ten minutes later, after I had given up looking and decided get on with reading my book instead: “It’s not in the magazine rack, it’s on the bookshelf”.
After taking one look at the item in my hand Megan responded, “That’s not a magazine, it’s a book.”
I disagree, but it is a very nicely presented zine. Very professional, as you would expect from the man who edited the NME in its prime, launched Loaded and went on to work for numerous high-end glossy publications. But it’s still a fanzine, not a book.
While it is possible to become good at your chosen profession through hard work alone, it is only possible to be truly great at what you do if you are passionately consumed by it. James has managed to do very nicely indeed, as he puts it, “getting paid to do what I would have done for free anyway.”
This zine couldn’t have arrived at a better time for me. I’ve just moved home. This has meant going through all the memorabilia, zines, programmes, ticket stubs and general ‘shit’ I have accumulated over the last fifty years of being a subculture vulture, hoarder and closet fan-boy. I’ve had to ruthlessly decide what I want to throw out, firstly as I packed it up, now as I’m ‘filing’ it in my new home, reluctantly chucking more out. There’s literally just not enough room for it all.
Unless, of course, you do what James has done. Rent a lock up storage space. Like me, James is now going through stuff for the second time in recent years. Although he hasn’t moved home, he recently went through a lot of it for inspiration, research and prompts for his recent autobiography, ‘Animal House’. As with most autobiographies, it’s lots of pages of text; text often describing visual artifacts. This zine, therefore, compliments the book, by being an illustrated companion. It’s a collection of images showcasing not just samples of his work, but memorabilia that inspired his work.
In my clear-out, I’ve mostly only held on to things from my ‘adult’ life. James’ collection starts off with old copies of Roy of The Rovers, toy soldiers and Subbuteo players. He then moves on to copies of his zine, Attack on Bzag. The photos are accompanied by tales of collating pages on his bedroom floor, hitchhiking with bags full of Bzag to sell and getting mentioned by John Peel on the radio.
His unwavering determination soon landed him a series of proper jobs working for titles such as Sounds and NME, before he launched Loaded and changed the face of magazine stands around the world. He then went on to the likes of GQ and Jack. Throughout this zine we get some of his favourite covers and interviews and snippets of stories like going feral on a remote island, reviewing biscuits and hanging out with the KLF.
Whilst James has moved among A-list celebrities, travelled the world on expenses and given the publishing world a kick up the arse at the highest level, in self-producing this zine he has shown that he is still a zinester at heart, even if he no longer uses a Gestetner printer, a long-arm stapler and his hitch-hiking thumb.
And (don’t tell Megan) I now feel a little less guilty about holding on to those copies of Festival Eye, letters from record companies accompanying promos, Tofu Love Frogs posters, the cutting of my letter printed in the NME Ask Fred column, the programme from Treworgy Tree Fair and my unsold copies of Peppermint Iguana Zine.
The Internet and social media has had a good go, but zines are not dead yet.
For a review of James’ excellent autobiography, go to … https://peppermintiguana.co.uk/book-review-animal-house/