Lovin' the tearable 'zine scene

 

Writing to a friend, journalist and author Hunter S. Thompson penned: ‘I don’t feel that it’s at all necessary to tell you how I feel about the principle of individuality, I know that I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life expressing it one way or another, and I think that I’ll accomplish more by expressing it on the keys of a typewriter.’

The 1980s, a time when Thompson continued to burn the candle of ‘Gonzo’ journalism at both ends, albeit in a more reclusive manner, was an age too when record shops were at their peak, and the gaps between fixed racks were littered with freesheets and zines.
Short on print and emphasising a DIY cut-and-paste philosophy, these homemade publications became an important sub-culture, almost as much as the music itself, and spoke to a generation of marginalised voices.
“There is no pretence, that’s what I like most about the whole scene,” explains Pete O’Hanlon, founder, designer and publisher of a fledging foldable new ‘zine, ‘Cro Mag Non’.
A play on the term ‘Cro-Magnon’, the population of early man dating from c. 40,000 to c. 10,000 years ago, the zine is part of a one-two punch combo to self-promote the former Strypes’ “conceptual” new band, Zen Arcade.
Formed with friends and fellow former Strypes members Evan Walsh and Ross Farrelly, online Zen Arcade describe themselves as a ‘garage rock band from Ireland’ and the only band ‘with a fanzine, podcast and no music’.
“There are a lot of fallow months in the setting up of a band. It’s a really exciting time too, but there is a lot of waiting around,” says Pete, who explains the theory was to have a “thing” to build momentum around even before the band hit the studio.
It was an idea toyed with while The Strypes previously toured. They would release regular short videos titled the ‘Suprisingly Dull Adventures Of...’.
“We’re always aware that once a band announces itself to the scene, there is this immediate pressure, especially if its members of one band following it up with another. I wanted people to engage with us on a level and show interest even before we got to a point of releasing music.”

Drops
When the first edition of Cro Mag Non was ready, Pete called to three shops in Dublin where he thought his target demographic might dwell. They included: Tower Records, The RAGE, a retro video game shop, and Kilo Vintage, a clothing store. “Music, video games and clothes, that’s it in a nutshell.”
He wasn’t wrong. The subliminal nature of what Pete and his fellow Zen Arcade members are trying remarkably filtered through to the tangible. Within just 14 hours, reports came back of copies being found or printed on five different continents.
Available as pick-ups in store, or to download free from the Zen Arcade website the first Tuesday of every month, Pete even received a message from a man holding a copy in front of the Chattanooga Choo Choo, a former train terminal that also lends its name to the famed Glenn Miller song.
“It’s a nice feeling to see a box completely empty,” reports Pete, who sees the outcome as a totally different way of gauging interest to counting ‘Likes’ on social media.
“It’s very analogue, but I feel it’s more personal. I don’t even know if the people who pick up a zine even do then go and check out the band and put it in the bin. But I think the people who have found interest in our band through the zine or podcasts will stay with us longer.”
Requiring four folds and two cuts, the origami nature of the zine is a nod to Japan where the dedicated underground zine scene is unrivalled globally. Such DIY publications first began to turn up on newsstands and cornerpoints in Japan from about the 1930s.
Closer to home however, Pete points to Adrian Thrills’ punkzine 46 Thrills or Mark Perry’s Sniffin’ Glue for inspiration. Both had equally humble beginnings, but ultimately came to represent the changing pattern and views of a generation curious about expanding their musical outlook.
“I’m not a graphic designer,” Pete unashamedly blurts. “This is all very rudimentary. But it’s ambitious stuff being undertaken by people who really have zero qualifications to do it.
“The podcasts are basically just us standing around one mic. So we’re working at the height of our limitations, and while it may look f**kin’ terrible, that’s really not the point. I think people respect effort rather than perfection, whether that’s artistic, musical or whatever.”
The podcast, also available from the band’s website, with a new episode released on the third Tuesday of every month, hears Pete and his friends riffing on a variety of topics from a clip of several seconds in a song they like (Sonic Seconds), to talking about a band they know they should like but simply don’t (Guilty Hatreds).

Organic
“It’s very organic. Everything is interlinked, everything is about promoting the band, even though we haven’t even released a song.”
Of the content of both the zine and podcast, Pete, whose family heritage is steeped in the production of The Anglo-Celt newspaper, says: “It inspires confusion, which I kinda’ like. With the zine I write about bands that either aren’t real, or not many people have heard of. So it’s fairly niche, and even then it’s niche in its own niche.
“Stuff like Tony Hicks hating Graham Nash from the Hollies. I’ve had friends come up to me who pick it up and they’re like ‘I really want to like it, but I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re on about here’. That specialist interest is going to be hugely detrimental for the global appeal, I get that, but I’m happy with the idea that the people who do like it are the people I’m trying to appeal to.”