Posts Tagged ‘zines’

BEST FRIDAYS: with Todd Taylor

Posted on December 19, 2008 by

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

Todd Taylor is responsible for one the best fanzines ever, Razorcake. And he edited Flipside. And he wrote some books. Clearly a good dude. Onwards and upwards!

Best injury
I’ve been scalped by going through a windshield. I was ejected from the car, then hit by oncoming traffic. I was thirteen.

I broke my leg so violently skating a pool so that when I looked down, my foot was pointing in the opposite direction. That was two years ago.

I broke my pinkie toe playing crab soccer. High school.

Take your pick.

Best historical figure
Got to go with Gandhi. Motherfucker took no shit but didn’t hit anyone. And unlike Martin Luther King, Jr., he didn’t have the Deacons of Defense behind him when he was preaching nonviolence.

Best shirt
The one I find myself gravitating to is Blöödhag‘s “The Sooner You Go Deaf, The More Time You Have to Read” t-shirt. Fits well and condenses my world view nicely.

Best thing to do with $20
For $20, that pretty much covers an evening of DIY punk rock, a record directly from a touring band, and some bagged beers. That shit’s tight.

Best party trick
I’ve never, ever been out-burped. On a good day, I can do the alphabet.

Best monster
I wholeheartedly recommend The Flesh Eaters. The big-ass monster at the end that’s little more than Nazi-made protoplasm activated by electricity and bad intentions is badass and hilarious at the same time.

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
Actually, Sean Carswell (co-Razorcake dude) and I were getting interviewed once and Kat Jetson, the interviewer, asked, “If you were a roller coaster, what would you be named?”

Without waiting a second, he replied, “Dangling Fury.”

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WORST MONDAYS: with Todd Taylor

Posted on December 15, 2008 by

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

It’s always a pleasure to interact with dudes like Todd Taylor, the people who prove that punk rock, with its “ethics” and “ideals,” doesn’t end when you leave high school. Todd Taylor is the proof that you can operate completely outside of mainstream media culture and live. Happily. And contribute to a valuable, viable culture that you actually believe in. For Taylor, that’s punk rock. We’re in.

Taylor is kind of the punk rock journalist guy. He was the managing editor of Flipside, the Los Angeles-based punk fanzine/bible, until it shuttered in 2001. Looking to keep the dream alive, he and Sean Carswell founded Razorcake that same year (for some reason not going with the way-awesomer name Barbed Wire Asshole). Since then, Razorcake has become an institution all its own — a bi-monthly fanzine, a record label, and a partnership with Gorsky Press all keep Taylor and Carwell pretty busy.

Somehow, Taylor has also managed to find time to publish a collection of some his best interviews in Born to Rock and edit a collection of fiction called Shirley Wins, his first novel. He does what he does well, and he does it all through completely independent means and channels. Which rules. We salute you, Mr. Taylor. Now, your turn.

Worst day-job
When I first moved to L.A., I worked for a temp agency. Got a gig at Bank of America Business Credit. Went to work before the sun came up, got off after it came down as the main desk secretary because I’m a fast typist. On the up side, I got to see some yuppie holiday freakouts. A guy broke his hand by karate chopping an elevator door because it didn’t open quickly enough. Ties look like nooses on me and people can tell.

Worst haircut
I’ve only had two non-family-member-doing-it haircuts in my life. Pretty basic shit. Of the two non-family ones, I came out of the hair salon like one of the Thompson Twins. The lady.

Worst subculture
Pretty much any one where I’m greeted by, “What the fuck you looking at, faggot?” which is quite a few of them.

Worst date
I forget if it was prom or homecoming, but the nice lady I lost my virginity to that night said she was sleepy afterwards, so I went home at about 10 p.m. She got back in her car, went to the casino we visited for dinner, then had sex with the comedian we’d seen earlier.

Worst invention
Capitalism appropriated through Social Darwinism into becoming the meanest fucking way to take money from people ever conceived. Or nuclear power/warfare. That turned out to be a real pickle. Third choice would be the for-home combination hot dog bun warmer, hot dog heater. Boil the hot dogs in a pan, put the bun on the lid.

Worst purchase
I thought it was a great purchase at the time. 1972 Ford Courier pickup, mustard, roof rack with tennis balls at the end, so I wouldn’t puncture my skull when I got in. Loved it until it developed a phantom electrical problem. I had a gun pulled on me in Inglewood because the backfire was mistaken as gunfire. Months later, I was driving down the freeway, it backfired the rear of the muffler clean off, the back pressure started an engine fire, and I just sat there for a couple of minutes on the side of the freeway, defeated. I put out the flames right before they’d burned through the fuel line, seconds away from a CHiPs moment.

Worst way to die
When I was a kid, my brother and I would hide from each other and scare and hit one another. One of my best shots was picking the lock on the bathroom door and waiting to see his elbows go up when he was shampooing his hair. That way, I knew he’d have his eyes closed and hands out of the way. I punched him full force through the shower curtain. Probably the best shot I ever got on him. The worst was when I decided to hide in a cedar hope chest. I got in and it locked. Perfect coffin for a kid. About three hours later, my brother, who was making a model plane in the garage, came looking for me and I’d almost asphyxiated. Still have a hard time with cedar and watching baseball on TV. There was a Cardinals game on that I could see through the keyhole. I really thought I was going to die.

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BEST FRIDAYS: with Jessica Hopper

Posted on December 12, 2008 by

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

So Jessica Hopper blogs, writes, and is generally better than all of us. You’ll notice that we normally refer to the people we write about as “better than you”, but this time, we’re lumping our omnipotent selves in with you lowly peasants. Yeah, she’s better than JUICEBOXdotcom. We’re pretty weirded out, too.

Best injury
Fell off a ladder while holding a scissors and stabbed myself in the ass. I was pranking my roommate by gluing some of his belongings to the ceiling, so I was getting my karmic due.

Best historical figure
Herzog c. Fitzcarraldo and or Lincoln c. 1863.

Best thing to do with $20
Buy cards and stamps and write to elderly relatives.

Best party trick
Not partying.

Best monster
America.

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WORST MONDAYS: with Jessica Hopper

Posted on December 8, 2008 by

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

Jessica Hopper writes good stuff about punk rock. And other kinds of music. And things that aren’t music, like feminism and bed-wetting. She’s really good at what she does. We kind of wish we were that good at what we do. But hey. You need goals, right?

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Hopper’s been cutting and pasting zines since she was a teen, but it was Hit It or Quit It, a collectively-compiled collection of music, culture, and general zine-y writing, that launched her into the upper-echelon of zine-people. Her work has since appeared in bucket-ton of places, from the Chicago Tribune to Stop Smiling to SPIN to her own popular blog, Tiny Lucky Genius. Her long-running column in the recently(ish) defunct Punk Planet yielded one of the magazine’s most infamous pieces, “Emo: Where the Girls Aren’t“, a controversial, smart, really, really relevant examination of the inherent misogyny of everyone’s favourite “genre/plague”, as Hopper describes things.

Currently hard at work editing a book for young girls about how to start to a band and be awesome, Hopper’s getting ready to help educate a whole new wave of smart, forward-thinking punks. She took some time away from this noble pursuit to tell us about buying rugs on eBay.

Worst day-job
I have been self-employed/freelance since I was 19 and the last job I had was the worst. I was a cocktail waitress at this restaurant/club in Hollywood that did a lot of corpo music biz and movie wrap parties. The tacit agreement was that sure for the $300-a-night pay you were not to bitch and smile big despite that B-list actors and gross A&R dudes were petting you like a Labrodoodle.

Worst haircut
Senior year of high school, I shaved my head. I looked like a Mon Chi-Chi.

Worst subculture
I would say nu-neon-hippy, but you can’t really call something sub when it’s Urban Outfitters dominant paradigm.

Worst date
The ones where I didn’t realize it was a date until I was on it.

Worst invention
Apathy

Worst purchase
Rugs off eBay. One arrived encrusted with a kilo of sand.

Worst way to die
I’ve spent a lot of time at hospitals and nursing homes this year and I think those are as brutal as any other way to go, in a sterile environment, hooked to machines, filled with super-medicines, attended to rotating shifts of strangers trying to keep you from dying. It’s just grim.

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Because your kids have better things to do than listen to Sharon, Lois and Bram condescend to them about elephants

Posted on July 11, 2008 by

Last month, the city’s most hopeful small press racketeers crammed their earnest handshakes into the gymnasium of the JCC at Spadina and Bloor for the Toronto Small Press Book Fair.

Having only minutes to check the scene out—dashing to work from a family garden party, at which candy sushi was served—my eyes fell on by far the coolest tablers there: Bronwyn and Madeleine Kay.

The young sisters were each hawking their wares, Bronwyn’s Kitty Corner, focused on all things feline, and Madeleine’s Curdled Way, with emphasis on guinea pigs and horse drawings.

Regardless of the ages of the Kay sisters, and their occasionally creative spelling, their zines are some of the most inspiring things I’ve read in a while. I mean come on — Kitty Corner features the untitled poem “I am a cat I don’t know why I am a / Cat why oh why.” Were you that existential at age nine? Doubtful!

Still, as rad as the Kay sisters are, they’re not the only pre-pubescent cool kids who have probably done things twice as awesome as the things you lie about to your friends. More… »

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