The Rock N' Roll Horror Zine

Ghost Town by Chase Block “Are you done yet? It’s almost the good part!” Graham was eager to share his passion for movies with, well, anyone. In this particular instance he was summoning his wife, L.J., who sat across the room, her ginger face glowing from the light of her computer monitor. “No. There are no gigs in Arkansas this weekend. Everywhere in Little Rock and Fayetteville is booked. Why does it have to be Arkansas?” “The list!” Graham referred to a list of states they had played. Their band, Ghost Town, was based out of Oklahoma City, and Graham had got it in his head they should try to play a show in every state to ‘get the word out’ on their way to superstardom. So far, they’d played nearly every state that bordered Oklahoma. Arkansas was next, yet superstardom was still a long way away. Despite shifting responsibility to that piece of paper, L.J. definitely blamed Graham. “Get in here!” L.J. rolled her eyes, then her chair to see whatever it was Graham...

Rock Opera By D.J. Tyrer A small pub in Deptford wasn’t Rob’s idea of a place to make history, but as Staples said, the history of rock belonged to such places. But, still, a rock opera in a dingy back room with an audience of around twenty? You wanted Wembley Stadium and thousands of adoring fans. Still, there was a vibe, and not just the hum of a dodgy amplifier, either. “One-two, one-two, screw the Milk Snatcher.” Rob gave the mike a tap, making certain it worked. Despite the grandiose term ‘opera’, it was a small affair. Doubtless, if they ever reached Wembley, there would be a huge chorus of singers and a multitude of backing musicians, but tonight, it was just a simple affair. There was Rob on bass, Knicknack on drums, Rodders on sax. Staples was both the lead guitarist and lead singer, which mainly meant narrator here. The other singers were Amy and Trish and Staples’ younger brother, Slug. Slug couldn’t really sing, but his rasp was just perfect for the terrified ...

It Just Sounds Better On Vinyl By Ben Fitts I’m very excited. I just got the new record by Capra Coven from Light Side Records downtown. I haven’t heard them yet but my friend Jack says these Englishmen are the best heavy metal band ever. He told me that they’re heavier than Venom, Bathory and Mercyful Fate all put together. As if that wasn’t enough of a selling point on its own, the local preacher came to our high school to warn us not to listen to Capra Coven. He said they were Satanists and would corrupt our innocent young minds. So like pretty much every other kid crammed into that gymnasium, my reaction was sign me up! I can’t wait to listen to it. I stare at the drawing of a severed goat head decorating album cover, then slip the black record out of its sleeve, place it on my turntable and drop the needle. The black vinyl spins and the needle traces its way through the grooves, but no music comes out. Instead a blood red finger reaches out from the twirli...