Book Review: White Noise

White Noise is a collection of pamphlet-length essays on the international white supremacist music industry. There are chapters on Britain, Germany, Sweden, Poland, and the US. The book highlights the use of racist music in all of these countries to recruit young people to their violent campaigns.

Glyn Ford MEP’s introduction explains that globalisation is making it harder to police racist extremists:

CDs, videos, computer games, etc. are manufactured in one country and then sold in another, frequently via the Internet. For example, the latest album of one of the best known bands, No Remorse, titled Barbecue in Rostock, was actually produced in the UK, pressed in Denmark, and sold in another European Union country.

White Noise focusses on the international links between fascist organisations and their use of racist music to recruit young people to their violent campaigns. It is slightly UK-centric, with three chapters devoted to Britain, but that is to be expected given that its publisher, Searchlight, is a UK-based organisation. It still manages to demonstrate the tight connections between modern fascist movements, and how the exchange of information and expertise emboldens their more violent elements.

Indeed, the book shows convincingly that white power groups and their supporters are behind a large number of vicious assaults and brutal murders, of non-white people and antiracist activists. Their terrorist campaign of bashings, stabbings and firebombings is played out with the encouragement of bands who celebrate the Holocaust and call for a Fourth Reich — in exchange for sex with racist groupies and the occasional trip abroad.

As a primer on the recent history and organisational methods of neofascist movements, White Noise is definitely worth reading, but it really needs to be updated. For example, Cliff Southwell’s chapter on the internet now seems incredibly dated — not surprising, really, given it’s coming up ten years since it was written, but even in 1998 it ought to have mentioned Don Black’s Stormfront. And any new edition simply must include something about Russia, given the openness of bonehead racist violence there.

Unfortunately, Lowles’ and Silver’s conclusion remains just as urgent today as it was when they wrote White Noise:

Anti-fascists have to continue to take action at whatever level they can to prevent the growth of the White Power music scene. … Turning down the sound of hate is one of the most crucual tasks for anti-racists and anti-fascists today.

Here in Australia, the heart of that campaign is @ndy’s Slackbastard blog. Get involved.

Nick Lowles and Steve Silver (eds), White Noise: Inside the International Nazi Skinhead Scene, 1/2 size, approx 90 pages.
Available from Searchlight.

Zine Review: Mend My Dress #5

Subtitled “Girl love, girl revolution, stories of friendship”, Mend My Dress #5 is a joyous memoir of childhood friends and crushes:

monkey bars. she smelled like watermelon shampoo and dirt. she had soft brown eyes and she could run way faster than me. she never showed off. i fell in love with her as hard as a second grade girl can.

There are stories about wanting to be sisters, fits of schoolyard jealousy, playing in the garden and just “loving our days together”. There are stories about man pants and short hair, and thrift store adventures, and first kisses. It is impossible not to be swept up by the excitement in Neely’s voice as she describes her friends and the good times they shared.

Occasional references to dark events (the subject of earlier issues) make Mend My Dress #5 all the more interesting: these are the girls that helped Neely get through an incredibly difficult period of her life.

I’m reluctant to use the phrase “coming of age”, but it’s hard to avoid, since the zine covers friends from pre-school through to high school. Each represents a new level of maturity, but without preachy introspection. It doesn’t matter whether Neely’s writing about holding hands in pre-school or going to punk shows in high school, you can remember those feelings.

It is a rollicking read that will make you think about your own childhood friends — you’ll remember the stupid things you did together, and wonder what they’re up to now.

Neely Bat Chestnut, Mend My Dress #5, 1/2 size, 20 pages.
Available from Eye Candy.

Zine Review: Bright Lights #2

Bright Lights #2 is young without being naive. Sure, Katie writes about her PE class and her relationship with her mother, but it’s not all angsty whining. These subjects are largely platforms for her thoughts on social class and the homeless.

So, for instance, Katie’s complaint about PE is that “swinging around a racket in a stuffy tennis bubble makes me feel like a snob”; her arguments with her mother are political, about the causes of homelessness.

The second half of the zine is almost meditative, with some peaceful thoughts about rain and clouds:

One of my favourite things to do is just walk around aimlessly in the rain wearing a thick hooded sweater. I love to feel the rain collect on the bridge of my nose while I watch people hussle around like ants.

Me too!

Katie Joa, Bright Lights #2, 1/4 size, 20 pages.

Zine Review: 8LETTERS #1

I don’t have a tattoo. I have thought about it, but since I’m not passionately committed to the idea, I’m sure I’ll regret it later — I picture Derek Vinyerd covering up the large swastika on his chest.

But not all tattoos can be covered up, and I’ve often wondered how their owners deal with their regrets. 8LETTERS is “a little book of knuckle tattoos”, and it collects interviews Johnny NoPants conducted with strangers he met on his travels. He asks people what they have tattooed on their knuckles, why those eight letters are significant, and what the consequences of the tattoos have been.

There are flashes of humour, like Shawn showing his “FUCK NYPD” to the police, or this exchange with Kimya:

8- Do you ever wish you had different knucklers?

K- the only other ones that I though[t] would be fun, but I wouldn’t rather have, would be Capri sun or juicebox.

8- I’m glad you got LAFF LOUD.

For many of the interviewees, the tattoos are an expression of defiance against the system. These people are making a statement that they don’t want to fit in. As Kimya says, “I wouldn’t work at a place that wouldn’t let me have them”.

Usually I enjoy this kind of screw-the-Man attitude, but in 8LETTERS #1 it’s mostly just depressing. Zane tattooed himself while sitting in his high school class; two months later, he’s already unhappy that “because of the exclamation marks, people cant really read it”, and he’s dropped out of school. Lil J had his done in prison, to remind him of his former life. Josh, too:

He told me how he went to prison, and got “25to Life” tattoed on his knuckles, but after getting released he wanted to remove them to “get a decent job.” He couldn’t afford to get them laser removed, so he tore them off himself with a razor blade and packed them in salt. This left him with scars in the shape of 25to Life.

None of this has brought me any closer to wanting a tattoo, but it was definitely an interesting read. I’d love to see a follow-up with some of the interview subjects, to see what they’re doing and whether they still like their tattoos in another five to ten years. Unfortunately, their transient lifestyles — as Lil J’s knuckles put it, “HOBOCORE” — mean that’s highly unlikely. I’ll just have to cross my fingers that things turn out okay for them.

Johnny NoPants, 8LETTERS #1, 1/4 size, 32 pages.
Available from Microcosm.

Zine Review: The Jaws of Life

This brilliant mini-zine is a bizarre biography.

A first attempt was written about encounters with the yeti, but this was aborted due to typewriter difficulties. Instead, we are treated to a handwritten explanation of Gorbott’s extraterrestrial origins. He writes:

i was transported to earth in some sort of space ship. i think something must have gone wrong in the cockpit, because i was dropped off in arlington, texas.

The illustrations were produced by “allowing my subconscious to dictate the movements of the pen rather than my critical conscious.” I think this means he wasn’t looking at the page while he drew, and the results are a series of slightly disconcerting but still recognisable portraits. The subjects do not bear any relation to the text, but somehow that seems to make more sense.

The Jaws of Life is very well executed. Gorbott’s casual style and sense of humour avoid the potential pitfalls of silliness and pretentiousness. Instead, the zine is imaginative and playfully absurd, and it leaves the reader wishing it was longer.

The Gorbott, The Jaws of Life, 1/8 size, 12 pages.
Available from the author.

Zine Review: From the Desk of Business Chimp

Sean Bieri’s From the Desk of Business Chimp is a mini-comic comprising seven single-panel sketches of chimpanzees wearing suits in workaday situations.

Sounds a bit silly, but Bieri really captures the daily grind of office work. I can relate to every single page (well, except the one about smoking), and I think a scanned image of “Business Chimp regrets sending that last email” might come in handy.

From the Desk of Business Chimp is brief but entertaining, and worth picking up. I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for the sequel: Overtime for Business Chimp.

Sean Bieri, From the Desk of Business Chimp, 1/4 size, 8 pages.
Available from Microcosm.

Zine Review: Chainbreaker #4

Chainbreaker #4 is really badly organised — or at least, my copy is. I should say this up front, because it got in the way of my jumping straight in to read it through.

It looks like there was a fight with the photocopier with no clear winner. Instructions for brake adjustments begin unintroduced with steps 4 to 6 on an upside-down page 15, before finishing with steps 1 to 3 on page 35. Worse still, some stories seem to be missing bits — Moose’s “Bike Nation” article seems to jump back a couple of pages, with at least a couple of sentences missing in the middle.

These frustrations aside, when I’d grappled with those layout issues enough to get properly stuck in to Chainbreaker #4, I found it was a vibrant, passionate and informative discussion about bikes, the people who ride them, and the problems of gender, capitalism and urban planning that confront them. The writing is truly inspiring:

[O]ne of the main reasons I love the bicycle so much is that you don’t need a car to use it. I like the rides that begin and end at my back gate. The rides that take me through old familiar neighbourhoods, winding crazy loops that criss-cross the city and eventually, bring me back home again.

These contributors love their bikes, and they love their cities. Being out in the open air as they commute or courier or play gives them a stronger connection to the streets they move through. For Sean, a ride across town “brought back a rush of memories”. Now that he lives too close to work to ride there, he thinks back to a bicycle commute and says “it made me feel alive.” Scott Spitz describes similar feelings: “This is how I celebrate freedom.”

But it’s not all rosy all the time. Freedom comes with risks, like Moose’s “broken teeth that I got from being nailed by a minivan on my bike” or “the cyclist that got killed in the French quarter last night”. But these horror stories are taken as inspiration: for a documentary (One Shoe in the Road, about “struck riders and their stories”), or a bike conference, or a more inclusive town planning system. And there is plenty advice on keeping safe, including tips for riding in traffic, and instructions for maintaining your brakes.

Zines and bicycles are both low-tech in a high-tech world, and Chainbreaker #4 is a celebration of both. It’s about getting stuck in with scissors and glue and bolts and grease. It makes me glad I own a bike — and guilty that I don’t ride often enough.

Shelley, Chainbreaker #4, 1/2 size, 48 pages.
Available from UrbanVelo, Microcosm and Paper Trail.

TV Review: City Homicide

Last night saw the debut of City Homicide, a heavily promoted new Channel 7 crime drama. According to an early review it’s a

story of urban crime and its detection … told from the multiple perspectives of the victims and the law, whose modus operandi here consists of old-school detective work; interviews with suspects, footwork, intuition and bravery (without a single lab-coat or high-tech computer read-out in sight).

I’m a sucker for some cops and robbers (or killers), so I didn’t have to think too hard about what I was going to watch last night. Alas, that meant a night of frustration.

For a police procedural, it wasn’t very big on procedure. At one point, Duncan is forced to draw his gun because he believes a suspect might be armed, but after the cuffs are snapped on there’s no attempt to search him. That’s a potentially fatal mistake. Later, that suspect offers to swap an important key for a rum and a smoke. It’s not clear why he’s still got the key on him in the interview room, or why the cops don’t just take it off him — he’s in custody, and should already have emptied his pockets. I guess the homicide squad doesn’t bother with pesky things like searching suspected murderers.

In fact, there’s nothing in City Homicide that gives you confidence in the detectives’ ability. Most of the legwork has already been done for them by a demented rogue officer from the police media unit. Jennifer is shown staring at a name on her computer screen for a full ten seconds before she realises that’s the name she’s been looking for — she must be a very slow reader. When Duncan notices a foul smell and blood leaking through the ceiling, he stands directly underneath it and prods it with a broom until the corpse bursts down on top of him.

The characters are not particularly inspired, and it’s difficult to tell whether it’s the script or the acting that’s at fault. There are some embarrassingly corny one-liners, and some painfully obvious characterisation devices: we know Sparkes is a bad cop from the old school because he’s first shown kicking the photocopier and swearing about “technology”. Daniel Macpherson’s inability to keep his smirk under control was ludicrous on The Bill, and it’s even more cartoonish on a supposedly “gritty” show. Even the better talent, like Aaron Pederson, comes over very flat. It’s hard to tell the detectives apart, except that the good guy can speak Italian and occasionally talks to his female colleagues.

With a bit of luck, these are just teething problems and City Homicide will improve as it gets into the swing of things. I’ll give it a few more episodes before I decide whether to find something more constructive to do with my time on Monday nights.

If you missed City Homicide last night, you can catch a repeat this weekend:
Friday 31st August, 11:30pm (Melbourne & Perth)
Saturday 1st September, 10:30pm (Adelaide)
Saturday 1st September, 10:45pm (Sydney & Brisbane)

Zine Review: The Small Print

Small Print is an occasional zine festival held in New Zealand, and The Small Print is a collaborative zine produced by and for participants in the 2003 event. I’m not sure how I ended up with a copy, but probably it arrived along with an order from the dear departed Moon Rocket Distro.

It’s an interesting one for a quick flick through, with a variety of different styles (prose, collage, comics, drawings) wedged together, showcasing the breadth and spontaneity of kiwi zinesters. There is a handy directory of contributors on the last spread, which allows the reader to track down more of the bits they liked. Ultimately, though, this zine is a memento for Small Print 2003 participants, and unless you get it (as I did) as a freebie, I wouldn’t bother with it.

Moira (ed), The Small Print, 1/4 size, 24 pages.

Zine Review: Notes to a Further Excuse…

Di’s handsomely constructed zine, Notes to a further excuse…, is billed as being “about the experiences and adventures I had moving from Australia to England, where I now live”. However, the bulk of it is made up of extracts from a tour diary, with brief and samey accounts of bus trips and art galleries and gigs and backpackers’ hostels.

This was quite disappointing, mainly because of the missed opportunity. Di’s style is friendly and open, and the non-diary portions are very engaging. Reflecting on her departure, Di writes:

The thirty minutes I spent before actually boarding the plane were some of the loneliest I’ve ever felt. I was really on my own, and there wasn’t any turning back. By midnight, I was so exhausted and emotionally drained that it was actually kind of a relief to be sitting in my seat on the plane.

If the zine had continued in this way, readers would have had a very interesting insight into the pressures and excitements of leaving family and friends behind for an adventure on the other side of the world. Instead, it gives way to “At the Tate Britain I saw some Turner, some Freud, some Bacon and some Emin. It was pretty okay.” Readers by and large don’t need to know these little details, when there are far more interesting things going on.

The entry about the London tube bombings was much better. What does it feel like to be alone in a foreign city at the time of a major crisis?

It’s one thing to watch news coverage from the safety of your home in Australia, and another to be near it, but still watching from safety. You still weren’t there when it happened, so it doesn’t feel real.

This section, along with a similar one about the people staying with Di in a Bristol backpackers, show how interesting Notes to a further excuse… could have been. A series of vignettes focussing on key people and events would be much more engaging than a list of bus rides taken and tourist traps visited.

There is a lot that could have been explored more fully. I want to know more about Di’s meeting Adam than “I met [him] yesterday at the house show” in Southampton, and I want to know how their friendship grew over the next couple of months, to the point where they were willing to move in together.

A topic for another zine, perhaps?

Di, Notes to a Further Excuse…, 1/4 size, 40 pages.
Available from Di’s Etsy shop.