Tim Hinely’s been doing Dagger fanzine in various forms, sizes and guises since the 80s, and I suppose this would have to be the first one of his I ever picked up, back in 1988. The guy has given much back to the music that nursed and nourished him, not just in the form of his longstanding fanzine, but also the anthology book about music clubs Where The Wild Gigs Were, which he edited (an entirely brand-new second volume of which is forthcoming, maybe next year). He also helms a Facebook group devoted to fanzines called Zine Chatter that you can look at if you’re willing to log in to Facebook and surrender yourself to the algorithmic maw.

Now back in 1988, Tim was a young stallion going to loads of live shows, as active in the scene from his New Jersey locale as I was from my own California locale. More, even. He finds himself trapped at funnypunk shows, seeing Murphy’s Law and loads of other flotsam. Because I read his mag a lot of the 90s and 00s and associate him with that persona, this 1988 version of Hinely shows a little bit more ‘tude than he’d show later, as he later morphed into more of a pure underground pop guy from these HC beginnings. One of the shows he reviews here is that famous Fugazi one where the singer hung himself upside down through a basketball hoop. Another is the Gibson Bros – yes! – during which Tim falls in love with drummer Ellen Hoover and relays that their set was abandoned because Don Howland was too hammered to finish the show. Sounds like the Gibson Bros on their east coast tours for sure – a real alcoholiday by all accounts. 

All of this action is taking place across New Jersey and greater Philadelphia. Hinely also talks with, as you can see in the cover, The Didjits, Rifle Sport, Bastro and Band of Susans, none of whom I’ve listened to in thirty years – but the interviews are very much fan’s-eye-view, alley-behind-the-club sorts of chats, and therefore quite entertaining. There are an incredible amount of fanzines briefly reviewed as well, showing just what an abundance of ‘em were being published at the time. This was definitely an era where, if Maximum Rocknroll or Flipside reviewed your fanzine, you were certain to receive a plethora of unasked-for xeroxed punk mags from the deepest recesses of the United States; sometimes from prisoners, sometimes from teenagers; always with a “Wanna trade?” note. When I was publishing, yes, sometimes I did wanna trade, but mostly I emphatically did not. I wonder what Tim did. 

Dagger #8 is itself a pretty cheapo xerox, which renders it all pretty quaint and of the times. Some reviews just don’t quite come off the “printing press” and are just faint letters, and a couple others take a comic run right off the side of the page. I do hope the advertisers in the back weren’t charged a fortune. I’m guessing that Jersey Beat and a speed metal band called Methadrine probably weren’t.