Friday, 31 August 2012


Exciting news! I'll be screening Amy Oden's From the Back of the Room, an underground documentary on women in diy punk cultures, on Sun 28th Oct at Shacklewell Arms, E8. Live, post-screening sets courtesy of awesomely brash punk trio Skinny Girl Diet and rad South Ldn punx Woolf. Tickets on the door, and online here:

I'm also curating a zine to commemorate the event. Topics: women + punk! Love letters to yr favourite women in punk, constructive critiques on punk scenes/cultures, thoughts on being a female-identified punk etc. Submissions (200 words max for written pieces and/or b&w illustrations, A5 size) should include yr name and any email addy/web site info. Send 'em here: Deadline: Sun 21st Oct.   

Date: Sunday Oct 28th
Venue: The Shacklewell Arms, 71 Shacklewell Lane, E8 2EB. Tel: 020 7249 0810 Nearest tube Dalston Kingsland
Door tax: £5

Monday, 20 August 2012

Girls Get Busy zinefest @ The Shacklewell Arms 25.08.12

I've been invited to give a small talk at the Girls Get Busy zinefest, which is happening in conjunction with the Feminist Library's Summer Fete weekend, this coming Saturday at The Shacklewell Arms. A bunch of other rad zinesters will also be in attendance, giving readings, talks and workshops. Its a free event, and runs from 1.00 -5.00 pm. See y'all there.

Friday, 17 August 2012

"I still haven't got a clue what any Breeders songs are about and fuck knows I'm not worrying about it now"

I WAS AT THIS SHOW! H/t to Pamzine #6 for bringing it all back. It was the first (and so far only) time I have borne witness to the awesomeness that is The Breeders live. It was a sticky, overcast day in summer '02, and we got down to the Astoria (RIP) super early to make sure we'd secure a sweet spot front and centre to the stage, all the better to adore the Deal sisters and their glorious garage jams. We were total babydykes at the time, and some of the older lesbians we'd made friends with on the club scene were also queuing. One of them needed to visit the loo, but didn't wanna risk losing her place in the queue. Shamelessly, she stuck her hands into her knickers and pulled out a bloodied tampon, tossing it away down a side street. I remember thinking it was a total show-off move; she was out to wow us babydykes with her radical Jennifer Finch-style cunt politics. We were grossed out and impressed in equal measures, so I suppose it worked. I was told a few years later that her girlfriend at the time of the gig had beaten her regularly during their relationship. I don't know if this was fact or just a nasty rumour, but it was the first time that lesbian domestic violence had entered my consciousness. It sounds naive now, but back then, processing the idea that this kind of abuse wasn't limited to the hetero world was a huuuuge, disturbing headfuck, even if my own dysfunctional background meant I understood the invisibleness that often cloaks domestic violence victims, and the paradoxes that are normally at work, masking everything; how you can be a gutsy, assertive rebelgrrrlhero to your friends and also, away from them, a closet victim, too lacking in strength and self-esteem to exit an abusive relationship/friendship/family dynamic, or ever expect anything better for yourself. I never saw the tampon-missile dyke again, but I remember everything about the gig: how my friend dropped an E and had a panic attack just as The Breeders tore into the opening chords of No Aloha; how I learned to use my arms to protect my ribs from being crushed against the metal barrier when the chorus on Cannon Ball kicked in and the huge, sweaty, heaving crowd behind me surged forward; how I basked in the thrill of pretending I was strong enough to single-handedly withstand that sea of moshing, pogo-ing bodies like some mini Hulk; how I knew all the lyrics, sung (screamed) the loudest and won the coveted set list prize at the end of the show when Kelley Deal instructed the security guard manning the barrier to pass me that magical sheet of crumpled white paper.

Monday, 6 August 2012

2nd International Alt Press Festival

My haul from the Alt Press Fest, which was held at Conway Hall in Holborn this year because its old home, St Aloysius Social Club in Euston, is now a boot camp for young Catholics and trainee priests. 

Required reading for anyone who attends music gigs: