Sniffin’ Glue And Other Rock’N’Roll Habits
Mark Perry OMNIBUS
UK punk’s DIY parish magazine gets anthologised.
Bored 19-year-old Lewisham bank clerk and music fan Mark Perry, weaned on glam and currently favouring Zappa and the Blue Öyster Cult, voraciously consumed the ‘big four’ music papers in 1976. Alerted to the existence of a nascent scene revolving around NYC clubs CBGB and Max’s by NME, he found himself in thrall of the Ramones. Catching the band at London’s Roundhouse, he hooked up with like-minded fans Shane MacGowan and Brian James, who told him about his own band, The Damned.
There was clearly something happening, and happening fast. As a veritable plague of new bands, all as urgent and undeniable as the Ramones, spread across grass-roots venues, the established, hippie-heavy music press couldn’t keep up.
Visiting Soho’s Rock On record stall, Perry asked if there were any magazines specifically covering this new music. No, they said, why don’t you start your own?
So he did. Using a toy typewriter, and black felt pen for headlines, he hammered out the first issue of Sniffin’ Glue (featuring dog-rough, enthusiasm-driven reviews of Ramones, BÖC, Stranglers, Television and 101ers) in his parents’ council flat.
The following week Rock On bought his whole first run, supplied an advance to print more, and pretty soon, by word of mouth, Sniffin’ Glue was everywhere. Ubiquitous. Essential. If there’s one story that completely defines exactly what punk was, that’s it.
The 25p Glue was a victim of its own success (by issue 3 there were photos, by issue 7 record company-sponsored ads). Newer writers and photographers (Danny Baker, Jill Furmanovsky) upped the quality, but Mark P (no longer banking, but fronting his own band Alternative TV and, thanks to Miles Copeland, his own Step Forward record label) decided to call it a day. Bowing out with August 77’s issue 12, which sported Step Forward’s Sham 69 on its cover, a free Alternative TV flexi, and a fullpage ad for Polygram’s punk cash-in sampler New Wave.
This complete-ish anthology captures the breathtaking forward momentum of punk’s first year. There are revealing early interviews with Clash, Damned, Clash, Jam, Buzzcocks and even, briefly, Pistols (“I think that was a stupid question and you were stupid to ask it.” Who else but John Lydon?), lashings of heartfelt, if naive, idealism and gloriously unfiltered gloves-off opinions. An aggrieved Paul Weller burned a copy of Sniffin’ Glue on stage at the Marquee.
Like its subtitle says: essential.