In space no one reads your zine
Tristan Fidler is one cool dude. His whole vibe is perfectly depicted in his zine I am still in yesterday’s clothes. He’s infused it with his awesomeness. Reaching the seventh issue yo(!), theming it SPACE(!) no less, is one heck of an achievement.
Tristan describes the zine as “somewhere between professionalism and unprofessionalism.” This is spot on.
This issue’s concept came together while a DJ dropped ‘You’re the Best (Around)’ by Joe “The Bean” Esposito at a party Tristan was at. That’s the tournament song from The Karate Kid by the way. This is how many good ideas have been known to conceptualise.
This zine is cool ’cause anything goes. There’s stuff about Astral Travel’s ‘The place with space’ (I really really really like Astral Travel). There’s stuff about the Karaoke Satan Museum, there are Jim China rants, my fave being Apollo conspiracy theories or… the flights to the moon, did they happen? (Yes! Realise that now, fool!), there’s a look into the darker aspects of Perth’s suburb Floreat, there’s Neel Lang’s funny Myspace or yours, and a highlight: the 5 things I remember about Sun Ra: Space is the place (1974) (#1 being that Thurston Moore wrote the liner notes, which is a fact I feel like only Tristan would know [and drop on you out of the blue at a party]). And it wouldn’t be a Tristan production without movie reviews, this time it’s Jason X, or The space curse of shitty horror franchises.
Golly, there’s so much more – 70 pages of goodness to be exact.
Oh, and Tristan’s story We are not the douchebags makes an appearance as well. When he performed this story at Cottonmouth XVIII, he brought the house down. It was awesome. You can experience it at the Cottonmouth website.
This issue comes with a soundtrack too, called Sounds from space. Holy crap, the first half of the CD features Leonie Brialey and her aural space opera of field recordings ‘Yesterday’s space’ with track titles that include ‘Watching cops and talking about Pump Up the Volume’ and ‘Sunday afternoon, making a snack, talking to my dad’. The second half of the CD are songs by lots of people and I’m super jazzed about the Gilbert Fawn and Amber Fresh ones.
I’m starry-eyed that Tristan published my steampunk space opera short story The Methusaleh Diaries. My li’l polemical coil of intertextual allusions and fleeting imagery is physically practically motionless while the movement is entirely in the psychological decay of the fragmenting mind.
That’s the nerd way of saying: thanks Tristan for taking a chance on this one.
Get dialled in with I am still in yesterday’s clothes on Facebook.
I think Ruck Rover in Perth might have a few copies, otherwise order it from Etsy. It’s only ten smackers.