Punk, Politics and British (fan)zines, 1976–84: ‘While the world was dying, did you wonder why?’

Fig. 1.

Sniffin’ Glue, No. 1, 1976.

Music fanzines started out as a way of putting forward the views of music lovers that the big music press didn’t recognise. Now we still use the name although some fanzines have very little to do with music, but use the idea to publish other arts and ideas [. . .] The fact is that anybody with something to say or wanting some outlet for their art can start a ‘fanzine’, even if it’s only a one off consisting of two pages. Community presses are the cheapest and beter [sic] badges, rough trade along with local record shops etc. will distribute it. So why not do it?

Paper Alcohol Collective, Northampton¹

Produced in the summer of 1976, the first issue of Sniffin’ Glue . . . and Other Rock ’n’ Roll Habits does not now look like a portent of cultural change (Fig. 1). Cheaply photocopied on eight sides of A4 paper and stapled in the top-left corner, the title is scribbled in black felt-tip pen beneath which a typed strap-line comments: ‘This thing is not meant to be read . . . it’s for soaking in glue and sniffin’.’ The contents are scrawled over the cover page: The Ramones, Blue Oyster Cult, ‘punk reviews’. Inside, the same combination of pen and type outline the magazine’s rationale: ‘We believe rock ’n’ roll, especially “punk rock”, is about enjoyment and nothing else – leave the concepts to the likes of Yes, Mike Oldfield etc.’ A series of breathless record and gig reviews then follow, before the last page reveals a little more cultural context.² First, the weekly British music press – which in 1976 comprised Melody Maker, New Musical Express (NME), Record Mirror and Sounds – is dismissed as being ‘so far away from the kids that they can’t possibly say anything of any importance to punk rock fans’.³ Second, ‘punk rock’ itself is given definition. Although the term formed part of the music-press lexicon by the early 1970s, it had only just been adopted to describe a new wave of bands committed to what Sniffin’ Glue characterized as ‘rock in its lowest form – on the level of the streets. Kids jamming together in the dad’s garage, poor equipment, tight clothes, empty heads (nothing to do now you’ve left school) and model shops’.⁴ Third, ‘most’ contemporary British rock groups are described as ‘past it’, with only a few fledgling bands – including the Sex Pistols – noted for providing any sense of excitement. Finally, the fanzine’s editor, Mark P [Mark Perry], a teenage bank clerk from Deptford, delivers the first of what would become a series of rallying cries for those reading Sniffin’ Glue to build a punk scene themselves, to ‘do it yourself’. ‘All you kids’, he urged more definitively in no. 5 (November 1976), ‘don’t be satisfied with what we write. Go out and start your own fanzines . . . flood the market with punk writing’.⁵

The period between Sniffin’ Glue’s appearance in July 1976 and its final issue in August–September 1977 marked the emergence of punk as a recognizable musical form and youth culture.⁶ Integral to this was the production of countless fanzines inspired by Perry’s lead and the DIY ethos that underpinned British punk almost from the outset. Across the UK, fanzines helped initiate, encourage and survey the upsurge of activity sparked by the Sex Pistols, The Clash and others. From Scotland, Ripped & Torn appeared in late 1976 in Cumbernauld, near Glasgow, billed as the ‘first Scottish punk mag., written by fans . . . for fans’.⁷ This was followed by A Boring Fanzine and Trash ’77 (both Glasgow), Edinburgh’s Hangin’ Around and Jungleland and titles such as Crash Bang (Airdrie), Granite City (Aberdeen), Kingdom Come (Dunfermline) and The Next Big Thing (Stirlingshire). In Manchester, early fanzines included Ghast Up, Girl Trouble, Noisy People, Plaything and Shy Talk; the Sheffield scene was covered by Gun Rubber, Home Groan and Submission. The emergence of Birmingham punk...