Constant Wonder #1

Re-reading Brian Berger’s Constant Wonder #1 for the first time in 30 years has given rise to a few thoughts, let’s say. And before I illuminate said thoughts, I’ll re-introduce this guy to the best of my abilities. I had bought his various early 90s fanzines such as Crush and Grace and Dignity at various west coast Tower Records at the time, and found them confounding, but chin-strokingly interesting at the very least, and musical taste-expanding at their very best. Berger was into records, big time. He knew his shit, and wanted to make sure you knew he knew his shit. I previously wrote about two of his mags here and here.

He also was very much in the business of manufacturing a complex persona for himself. It was an “erudite horndog” sort of vibe; and that of a purposefully off-putting guy who’d publish whatever crawled into his head that might further emphasize your recognition of his erudition and confrontational manner. These might be little one-act plays; mock paeans to himself; lengthy in-jokes about indie rock bands; lyrical dissections mixed up with deep nods to whatever author he was reading in grad school in Iowa City, and so forth. It can be totally fucking maddening. 

That said, when he’s actually writing about music as music, especially here in Constant Wonder #1 (there was never a second issue), he can be entirely convincing. I know for a fact that this 1992 issue spurred me on to greater investigation of both the Ass Ponys, whom I really dug, and the American Music Club, who I’m honestly still waiting to find even a shred of connection with. Berger wasn’t the only one with an AMC fetish for sure; Gerard Cosloy, who laid down the initial fanzine template for Berger to follow in a dozen different ways, was also a major fan and booster. 

But I trust – and trusted – Cosloy’s taste far more than Berger’s. When the latter savages a band he’s seen live, like The Walkabouts or Die Kreuzen, you’re never really sure if it’s the band’s sartorial sense or their music that’s really rubbing him the wrong way. He truly does enjoy talking about their clothes, sense of style and physical attractiveness perhaps more readily than one might expect from such a smart fella, and jeez, the lengthy quiz about personal drug use to the main guy in Paul K. and the Weathermen (a former smack addict) is an absolutely cringe-inducing bit of heroin chic.

Aside from all that, seriously, this zine is pretty right-on. I’m all for someone holding a band’s album up to the light and turning it inside-out for paragraph upon paragraph, even if that band is an indie pop thing like The Bats, De Artsen or Straightjacket Fits. And for all the mean-n-nasty savaging that goes on here – listen, someone needed to talk about “The Nation of Ulysses” as probably the worst virus to hit the bins in 1992, and I’m glad Berger did the dirty work. Utterly embarrassing and a stain on the scene. And like me, he l-o-v-e-d Urge Overkill’s Jesus Urge Superstar in the late 80s, but has many ingenious ways to pick them and their own manufactured personas apart for their immense musical treachery in 1992. 

As I wrote before, this Berger guy was a “person of interest” in certain quarters around this time, and it’s clear he relished the part. Since he’s undoubtedly about 54-57 years old right about now, and as far as I know, completely vanished from the scene he was so fond of making mirth and courting disfavor in, I’d honestly kind of enjoy to get the guy’s take on how he views his contributions 30+ years ago. Did he morph into an even greater asshole? Is he now a wizened sage who used his extensive education for reflection and greater magnanimity? Brian Berger, if you’re out there, let’s you and me do an email interview for the Fanzine Hemorrhage website and find out, how about?