Jon positive spent approximately thirty years appearing and recording with bands that performed competitive and demanding underground rock tune, and, as he writes, at no element have been any of these bands “ever threatened, even distantly, via real fame.” but whilst the participants of his Eighties post-hardcore band complain Magnet got here jointly for an not going reunion travel in 2011, diehard fanatics traveled from in all places to wait their indicates, regardless of creeping middle-age responsibilities of parenthood and 9-to-5 jobs.
Their devotion was once testomony to the striking endurance of indie tradition. In indie rock’s pre-Internet glory days, bands like whinge Magnet, Black Flag, project of Burma, and Sonic Youth—operating some distance outdoor advertisement radio and significant label promotion—attracted enthusiasts via observe of mouth, collage DJs, checklist shops, and zines. they discovered glory in all-night recording classes, shoestring van excursions, and never-ending appearances in dirty golf equipment. a few bands with a foot during this scene, like REM and Nirvana, ultimately attained mainstream luck. Many others, like complain Magnet, have been loved simply by way of the main obsessed fanatics of the time.
Your Band Sucks is an insider’s examine that interesting, outrageous culture—how it emerged and advanced, the way it grappled with the mainstream and vice versa, and its atypical rebirth in recent times as numerous bands reunited, in short and bittersweetly. With behind the scenes entry to many key characters at the scene—and lots of wit and sharply worded opinion—Fine can provide a memoir that affectionately but seriously portrays a massive, heady second in track history.
Praise for Your Band Sucks:
“Everything a cult-fave musician’s memoir could be: It’s a seductively readable booklet that calls for no prior wisdom of the writer, complain Magnet or the other band with which he’s played.” —Janet Maslin, The ny Times
“Jon positive has produced as evocative a portrait of the underground track scene as any wistful, graying post-punk might want for.” —The Atlantic