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| This is an excerpt from the print edition of Dirty Linen Magazine #100 (June/July 2002). the magazine is available on newsstands and by subscription. |
Dirty Fanatics
The True Dirt on Dirty Linen's Evolution
by T.J. McGrath
But the woes of youth cannot be shaken by wisdom and foresight. Such was my OC fever back in 1971 when I first heard Fairport Convention's "Tam Lin" and in 1983 in Fairfield, Connecticut, when I began publishing Fairport Fanatics USA, a fanzine devoted to Fairport Convention and hundreds of other folk-rock bands that tickled my fancy.
Modeled on The Ledge, a brilliant and compact fanzine highlighting Fairport and edited by Martyn Kenney in Bristol, England, my own little Xerox scribble was more for my own amusement than anyone's. Looking like a child's doodle, the first issue had only two pages and was mostly a rant about the glories of Fairport with a listing of all of my favorite albums. I mailed it off to a few music buddies and then forgot about it. As a semi-joke, I sent a copy off to Dave Pegg, the bass player of Fairport, who actually wrote back to me after a month or two and encouraged me to "keep up the good work."
This was enough to float me on to Cloud Nine, and make me want to tackle Issue #2. Moving off the chicken-scrawled articles, I found a handy typewriter, some scissors and paste, and a stapler. Now I was in business.
Let the real fun begin. I found that my obsession with folk-rock knew no bounds, and that the hook was in good and tight. I gathered news, trivia, and albums on Sandy Denny, Richard Thompson, Linda Thompson, Iain Matthews, Ashley Hutchings, Dan Ar Bras, Trevor Lucas, Jerry Donahue, Dave Swarbrick, Martin Lamble, Dave Mattacks, Simon Nicol, and anybody remotely connected to the Fairport family tree. I then started collecting research on some legends of the folk-rock scene like Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, Nick Drake, Dougie MacLean, Nic Jones, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Clive Gregson, Stan Rogers, Jackson C. Frank, Leo Kottke, Greg Brown, Paul Brady, John Martyn, Joni Mitchell, and Tim Hardin. Bands were also fair game: Steeleye Span, Bothy Band, Byrds, Incredible String Band, Albion Band, Pentangle, Buffalo Springfield, and dozens more. Anybody or anything with an acoustic or electric guitar was enough to get my motor running. As long as they were sincere, passionate, and had something to say, I could find space for them in FFUSA. My OC had kicked in for good.
I tried to pack each issue with as much newsworthy tidbits on folk-rock as I could find. Even though I was leaning toward the British scene, I didn't want to make this an "exclusive" territory, so I tried branching out a wee bit. Folk gunslingers from France, Japan, Norway, or Uruguay were always welcome to the party.
And new friends were at every corner. Lahri Bond offered to do cartoons and caricatures for each issue, and they were hilarious, and soon he designed the masthead of FFUSA. Jim Lee had a wealth of "folkie" folklore tucked into the back of his head, so he jumped on board the ship without much prompting. Mark Fleischmann, one of my first music friends to really encourage my writing style, proved to be an excellent sounding board for ideas and articles. Finally, Paul Hartman, a computer wizard from Baltimore, seemed to have a real vision on how this little fanzine could branch out and grow and become a "real magazine" with a little sweat and know-how.
But the real supporters were the subscribers who believed in the magazine enough to actually send me money. The first few issues were sent out free to friends, but by Issue #5 I was charging $3.00 for six issues. What a bargain, or so I thought. To keep the fanzine afloat, I had to cover my printing and mailing charges, but I still wasn't charging enough money. Nobody was getting paid for their work, including the editor and publisher; it really was a labor of love. I was picking up new subscribers at a steady clip, and the checks were streaming in for renewals.
The first issue went out to 20 friends; by 1987 I had a subscriber base of more than 500 loyal readers.
Now picture me in my attic on the floor with hundreds of copies of the fanzine being collated by hand and having to staple each and every issue and cart them off to the local post office in time for delivery. I was still holding down my other "real" job, but I was finding that the fanzine was zapping all of my extra time and energy. Now imagine my three-year-old son crawling in my lap as I'm typing away, wanting to play ball. And finally, I had the perils of beginning a doctoral dissertation hanging over my head like a noose. The pressure was on.
Something had to give. I loved the fanzine, but its success was siphoning my world away with each issue. The mail was backing up, the phone calls were coming in during every waking hour, and there was always that next deadline right around the corner. Help!
Paul and Sue Hartman saved my life. Paul especially was devoted to FFUSA, and out of all the contributors, he probably put in the most hours. He seemed to have a knack with news stories and editing, and he gave me lots of ideas about marketing and promotion and how to best use my computer to produce each issue. He was the most invested friend and subscriber in the success of the fanzine. By Issue #19 (24 pages) we had Fairport USA T-shirts, a comprehensive discography on folk violinist Ric Sanders, Green Linnet and Festival Tours advertisements, and loony contests with real prizes for Brit folk-rock buffs. Not to mention over 12 pages of fact-filled news on just about every folk-rock heavyweight in the business.
When I asked Paul to take over the magazine in 1987, I knew exactly what I was doing. I was putting it in the hands of someone whom I trusted to bring Fairport Fanatics USA to the next level of quality and content.
Well, it's 2002 and Dirty Linen has been a raving success, and you can't argue with that. One hundred issues is nothing to sneeze at, and when I see copies in my local bookstore, not to mention all over the country at newsstands, I'm proud to have been part of DL's history and evolution. Dirty Linen has outgrown the Fairport fanzine image and is now recognized as the premier world "roots" magazine on the newsstand. Artists as diverse as Solas and Gigi grace the covers, and the articles are well-researched and written by talented journalists. One hundred pages are now standard for each issue, and there's an artist tour schedule insert that's the most comprehensive in America.
Thank you, Paul and Sue, and to the many writers, photographers, and editors who make Dirty Linen the kind of music magazine we all look forward to reading each issue. We started out small and humble, and just look at us now!
I've got to give out a few bear hugs to some important people who believed in the magazine and the vision from the very beginning. True believers like Brian and Rose Wolfe, Kim McGrath, Wild Bill Hancock, Evan Smith, Scott Appel, Pat Humphries, Ken Hunt, Joe Boyd, Pam Winters, Ginny Landgraf, Flip Feij, Martin Woodward, Robert Lehrian, Michael Hunter, John Penhallow, Deborah Bazer, Linda Cohn, Don Brockway, John Wilcox, Julian Dawson, Nancy Covey, Simon Tassano, Al Riess, Jim Abbott, Henry Kaiser, Ed Haber, Ilana Pelzig Cellum, Frank Kornelussen, Colin Davies, David Suff, and hundreds of others who keep the spirit of good music in tune and flowing. God keep ya warm.
And especially all of the Fairport boys who gave me something to write about: Dave Pegg, Simon Nicol, Dave Mattacks, Dave Swarbrick, Maartin Allcock, Iain Matthews, Richard Thompson, Jerry Donahue, Dan Ar Bras, and Ric Sanders. One of the biggest regrets in my life is missing a Fairport Convention (with Sandy Denny) show in Northampton, Pennsylvania. Damn those final exams!
Obsessive-compulsive fan behavior at a young age is to be condemned. What's the point of snapping up every Taiwanese vinyl pressing with Roy Orbison on the cover? How about writing down every song performed by The Ventures and categorizing them all by theme and song length? Too much of a good thing is wearisome to the soul and haunting to the mind, and when it comes to music, it can become particularly overbearing and threatening. Believe me, I was there.
