Encoule’s Grand Depart


Encoule’s Grand Depart

Bonjours, trakMARXists, et bienvenue to the final issue of trakMARX: 30-issues, 30-years since Punk died, 30-fags a day, £30 a quarter . . . it’s got a certain poetic ring to it, n’est ce pas?

This is the end, trakMARXists, my only friend, the end. Yup, sadly, everything must come to a close, nothing is permanent, &, for trakMARX, the number 30 is most definitely terminal. We have ‘ummed’ & indeed ‘arred’ long in to the night & beyond regarding the conundrum, but in the end the editorial decision was unanimous: we did it our way!

No more group hugs in the East Wing Green Room (it’s flooded), no more Image Processing Love-Ins in the grand ballroom, no more team building croquet exercises on the South Lawn! It’s ‘adieu’ to Guy Debored’s Sub-Editorial Whist Drives in the Orangery, ‘au revoir’ to Debbie Hurry’s Victorian cookery classes . . . ‘auf wiedersen’ to Johnny Truant’s Neo-Pagan ‘Disciplines’ Workshop!

“Why, Encoule?” I hear you say, “Why are you taking our trakMARX away?”

Calm down, mes enfants, I have some disturbing news for you: Encoule is ill (see “Adventures Too Close To Home”, elsewhere in this issue)! C’est vrai! Following months of investigation into my pseudo-alcoholic tendencies, it has been established, beyond all reasonable doubt, that Hep C (type 3) is the cause of my ever-impending cirrhosis! I begin treatment this September: a 6-month course of Interferon injections & blood monitoring, designed, it would appear, to get on Job’s nerves. I have been warned: expect flu-like-symptoms, depression, tiredness, aching joints & migraines.

Don’t just take their word for it, here’s someone already down with the program:

“I'm in the middle of the treatment you are speaking of, and it's HORRIBLE... however... it's better than the alternative! Have to suck it up to get healthy! I have 7-weeks of injections left. My energy level is about nil. Take a suggestion from me... if you can cut down work load or even get disability during this, it is very helpful... there is absolutely no way I could work during this.”

Bearing in mind the above, you will not be surprised to learn that the idea of being a single-parent family, an electrical contractor, a fanzine editor & a guinea pig, concurrently, is not one that overly appeals. The decision has thus been taken: trakMARX 30 will be the final issue! From 10/10/07 the front page of the site will be updated to launch . . .


“trakMARX Museum Of Punk Rock As Outsider Art”

* All 30-issues: visible, easily navigable & resolutely indefatigable!

* Available to download for free!


Despite what Marcus Gray may tell you, trakMARX wasn’t built by my fair hand alone, & with that in mind, I would like to thank the following ‘imaginary friends’ for their unswerving dedication to the cause:

Marko (tMx’s artistic director & general web maestro), Suburban Kid (aka Simon Mattock), Guy Debored (aka Left Hand Man), Kris Needs, Alex Ogg, Marcus Gray, Brian Young, Joe Donnelly, Seymour Bybuss (aka Ben Browton), Chuck Warner, Johnny Deluxe, John Robb, Ben Myers, John Savage, Dee Generate, Lemmy Caution, Bryan Swirsky, Joseph Loderer, Dick Porter, Debbie Hurry, Dave Adair, Harry O, John Lenin, Robert De Janeiro, Mike Twat, Leicester Banks (RIP), Marquee Smith, Barry Island, Elvis Preseli, Evan Halshaw, Nick Kuntz, Terry Ennui, Ian Damaged, Billy Childish, Julie Hamper, Rat Scabies, Brian James, TV Smith, Gaye Advert, Glenn Gunton, Norman Joplin . . .

The milk-bottles stand empty outside the tMx Bunker. The wind lashes in over the helipad, lifting leaves & discarded crisp packets upwards into the greying skies of this decapitated summer, beating a path to the somewhat distressed veranda door (must get Ted to fix that!). Only the sound of the local Women’s Institute rehearsing their production of “The Society Of The Spectacle” (in association with Vision Express) upstairs in the North Wing disturbs my thoughts as I type.

In conclusion, you have all (yes, every single one of you!) come to mean a great deal to me over the past 6-years, & I will (excuse me, sniff) surely miss you all madly, truly, &, quite possibly, even deeply!

Au revoir, mes amis!

Jean Encoule – tMx 30 – 07/07