Robert Griffin was the fella behind the early 90s fanzine-with-a-record-from-a-band-from-Cleveland Seven. He also ran and still runs Scat Records, who, among their many other accomplishments, were the label who basically hipped the world at large to Guided By Voices, a band that only folks like Tom Lax knew about before the 1993 Propeller/Vampire on Titus CD hit the street, courtesy of Scat. And then the world fell in love, as you’ll remember.

Griffin also put out the phenomenal 3×10” release Those Were Different Times in 1997, which gave the world some incredible til-then-unreleased 1970s Electric Eels and Mirrors gems. He was in the band Prisonshake, and when I started communicating with him around the time Seven – Scat Records Quarterly #2 came out in 1990, I was blown away that I was actually in analog communication with a guy from the aggro mid-80s post-punk band Spike In Vain, whom I vainly held to my bosom as one of the secret treasures that only I knew about. I wrote about them in Superdope #2 the next year thanks to some info that he – and only he – was capable of providing me. 

And funny enough, Griffin plays something of a role in one of own my major life events. I took my now-wife of 25 years, Rebecca, on our first-ever date to see Guided By Voices at the I-Beam in San Francisco on July 2nd, 1994. I was a big fancy man, “on the list” with a “plus one”, thanks to Griffin, and of course that helped cement the date with this target of my affection. Who wouldn’t be totally impressed with a “potential boyfriend who gets on lists with a plus one”? – only to find at the door that “Nope, there’s no Jay Hinman on the list, sorry, nope, go away freeloader”. Thankfully I was able to rustle up $16 for a couple of ducats and she somehow stayed with me regardless. She’s upstairs right now. Griffin didn’t know what happened, and hey – it’s all cool in 2023.

Seven #2 from 1990 was about 7” singles only, as were the other issues. I applauded and still applaud the concept. I’ve had my own deep forays into singles-only collecting, and even in recent years I’ve bought a bunch of 45s on Discogs and in stores to build back all the great records in my favorite format that I’d sold over the years, then thought better of it and promptly sold those records yet again. #2 comes with a Starvation Army single I’ve never listened to, as well as other wacky inserts like photographs, cheapo toys (a plastic snake, a skeleton hand and a black balloon), and other assorted real inserts, including a Scat Records catalog.

The idea to do a different sort of fanzine with packaging as the linchpin was another strong marketing play from a guy who was and probably still is interested in doing things differently from the indie herd, even if it meant spending more. The thing is even numbered, and mine is #343/1000. Serious record dork alert. The fanzine itself is OK. There are many reviews of small indie pop records, loads of Cleveland things and a focus on the Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile records that were pouring forth like Old Faithful around that time. 1990 – a weird year for the underground. I see it as a transitional year from the shitty late 80s into a much more fruitful underground (New Zealand, garage punk, Siltbreeze etc.) from 1991-94. 

I remember being moderately frustrated by the Cleveland-centricity of this fanzine at the time, primarily because I didn’t really like the bands. Griffin’s own band Prisonshake were good but so much of the local stuff that Seven flogged just didn’t have any real heft once I’d get down to buying it at Epicenter or Aquarius or wherever. Fair enough, though – I’d write disproportionately about my San Francisco Bay Area favorites in my own fanzine, and many of those bands proved to be utterly baffling outside of the 415 area code. I hadn’t looked at my copies of Seven in many years and now I’ve got two others in front of me, so I reckon we’ll take a look at those in these pages when the time is right.