Write Yer Ane Zine

Words about DIY punk; records, shows, interviews, whatever.


I weave beauty from cancer in the morning

to allow the demons to awake slowly

These days, we’re just not thinking

while I / they / who skipped ahead

dog years in regression

devolution through devaluation,

just another clearance sale

spunked from Eton Reich

as a mongrel people

worship The Sun.

It rises in a Swiss bank

as stolen nazi gold upon

a fucked up chucked up crown

of brainwash-constrictor snake thorns.




Mailed myself back to the light as a bundle of old records, unsold, packaged by a friend, destined for the ashes of grandmothers’ only village. Wrong flag, braw times, royally shafted. Together, legions, we drones play shepherds by voodoo’s smoke. 5XgmTV, aye but, how the why, asked Jojo yo-yo the fighter pilot.

Quality assurance, I guarantee thee, non-compliant sheep, perfidious dog, lie down, crown of crowded cornrows; fuckkk farming, croft yer ane Bristol crème, cunts run countries. Six counties doth not a coalition conceive, but criminality. Duco fucked a monk foetus to save children of Israel in Catalonia catacombs.

Tradesmen, ocean grown. Hollywood’s greatest directors worship idolatrous illustrations o’ Ben Hur, evolutionary biology heretical, your supremacy, I swear upon thy burning cross. Ken, the one ye nailed the sun to, bathing satanic majesty in da Nile. The greatest Reich, Einsenhower, shuffles Roosevelt’s tarot.

Iron man, DC aye? Celtic Unity, hysteria. Gallus frog marches Pepe, misunderstood existentially; Scratchy, Big Mo, Homer; sketched before disappearing wisdom fell acidic allies down Eric’s forked tongue, towards ska-punk gallows. Fascism fears paella not, olive oil drown my illusion, omertà shit.

How many fukkkin times, chef? Insubordination, old school, meant plank meet posture. Some-necked giraffes ken karate; pencils, untrained, snap aforementioned ligaments. Excuse me, violence, reality burled. Feel bad ye what, shat yersel? Maestro called, call him bounced cheque, mate.

Wake, bake, ye walking wake’n’wank, this is yer conscious speaking. No sunbirds, statistics, post-match analysis necessary, take aw yer pull, grind them. Queensferry rules, bring yer ane bombs, bullshit battalions bail before “bad boys” bully bullies, armed with voice, bass, guitar, skateboard. Cake?

Toots, listen, Brad’s an archetype; the Joe Rogan with insight, if ye insist, yet resist. Psychic linguistic Pictish cider, no brain damage on this, Mike. Roy, the wee or big wan. Fuck roundabouts, Zebedee, real magic is Bungle’s pain in stereo silence. Broken speakers. Tell no lord, lies commander.

Smitty? Saw him wes’on glock over flock street, UZIfied fishing, TECKLE. Karl, Ash nipped off themsel, why bother rushing? Greed, meet Envy in Zionist hate, almighty me squire, what jolly spiffing flasks full of falafel, yessir. Three bags, indeed, sir. Bargains for big baws, wee Johnny Part Time, count yer jaws.

Ken fine I kick it, cunto, ken? If in doubt, spit it out, forever friends, GISM. Poker. Malt liquor. Salt lakes. Suck my dildo, van heeder. Pounded fist in ham peace, guggit, barkers, honkin’, ye reeking maggot jam tart bar steward walking union street queen. A mole.

Offend me in GCHQ magazine, full frontal, beamed in, Scotty Boy, too hot for TV, paid with Kaufman’s unscripted credit card removal company, pissed on by carer’s deserving means but lacking production. Kippers, nae per diem. Did it, done it, lined it up, snorted, burnt doon. Straw men? Chip rappers.

Flood windmills with Steve Bannon. Information overload; chessboard overlords of the annihilated sewers, all roads lead to broken promises, land theft, Rome. Picked it up, irish irony, in the north, karma west of white cliffs, Nelson. Port and lemonade indulgence, Dennis. A river.

Denial is potent. 0141.com

For eighty eight zombie corpses

Dragged through the streets

To hang their heads off.

Divine intervention.

Sweet. Sweet papaya.

A Poem; Black Hall Hole 7

Shrödingers mathematical truths

simply required forgetting

everything ye have ever learned.

Burn all post-endarkenment heretics.

Mother Earth-raping genocidal fools

masquerading as followers of Christ

are the true serpents.

Smith wrote the bible of capital in

The KKKingdumb of Fife, but

who remembers his theories of

moral sentiments?

Literally millions of people,

just none of them with the stolen

resources to leverage wealth

from ancient land that is life itself.

She belongs to no one,

we merely the labourers

born to serve

Queen Bee, back from the heart.

Darkness, wrote Conrad,

leads to apocalypse.

The books of revelations was a test.

To the ridiculous,

the sublime,

for the fools who they knew

could never understand the jokes.

An ancient, evergreen genius;

trolling sheep with fairytales.

The story repeats algorithmically;

ideology via meme

when none of the folks preaching

have read the books,

let alone understand that

propaganda is both art and science.


Shepherds dinnae tend the flock,

collies do.

Revisit Pythagoras.

YouTube researchers; read books

Book readers; meditate

Book readers and meditators;

read more books and mediate.

One of seven is an eighth fold.

Chop wood, carry water.


Chop Plato.

Hang Descartes, was it Chris?

Already done.

The academy always misses the point.

Chop Mushrooms, drink water.

Pink triangles.

No my problem, mate.

Acrostic Poem; Jordan Petersen Is Dumb As Fuck, Ken

If anyone wants to sponsor a YouTube debate between me and this clown, I’m down. Pick yer subject, expert.


Joy of joys

Oh Lord

Ratify my existence

Deify me

Anointed paedo paid-for crown

Nagasaki Washington

Preferably evacuated

Except for

The pentagon

Everybody who works there

Reside in other

States anyways

Everybody knows

Nottingham forest, yeah?



Defines most of those



By private entities

Another aside



Upwards becomes






Wish It Was Lies #2


“Walt isnae the only wan what mastered the trickery of confidence, wiz he Frankie? Dinnae queer it, shitcunts smell oor ane. Eh ken some cunt wanked in the shitter at the Pooper’s gaff.

Didnae own fuck all back when, mind? Slumming it wi the scum on the train wi yer moonboot pals at Spiked hain a guid laugh at aw cunt, were ye?

Rise up for fascism, lick boot harder, now, at the command o yer guardianship. I back the horse that eventually kicks yer smug puss right in, ye fucking galaxy-brained one-line fraudulent charlatan fuck.

Eh ken ye’d blame the yanks while stealing their stolen airwaves, scumfuck.”


Dochie O’Drieg

Ego as bludgeon, tongue becomes blade. Same sword slays serpents. Always serve the servants, oh lord.


Meditations on meaninglessness, zen is nothing. Absence makes the heart hate fondu. Suckling secretions situate shitey neoliberal pop-psychiatry as standard.

personal collection (Lismore, 1800s)






“Quantum Leap as a gateway drug”

Wish It Was Lies #01

“Just fucking tell the truth. Maist cunts dinnae believe a word we fucking say anyways, think we’re fucking freaks. Ye can tell these pricks a million miles away. Just get cunts telt”.

Indulgence of rampant, merciless and relentless fevered egos that cause harm, beyond keeping oneself safe and enforcing boundaries, leads to spiritual death. I am a monster. An ethereal spirit. A construct. A wordsmith. A bullshitician. A wearer of masks. I understand music better now.

I broke in Perth, for the hundred thousandth time. Death by slow poisoning in the Vale of Strathmore, hastened pharmaceutical death in the board room; coercive consent behind closed doors. It’ll be easier this way. Maybe Sisyphus does yearn for an end to suffering, content with absolutely fuck all.

That cunt? Warped the day they fell oot. Tough shift but, from the womb to the boot, rebel without a clue. We’re all babies seeking the ancient wisdom of our grandmothers, cradled in the softness of the bosom. We, fools, look to men and war. We kill ourselves eventually. Good.

The arc of history is long but it bends back towards the just, history teaches us so. Capitalism is the aberration. The freaks will inhabit the realm of the gods, we’re already here. Heaven and hell are real, we create them every day. At least I’m dain what I’m telt for once, not just riffing in e-minor. Sorry Bill, think we were both wrong.

Buddha laughs as Jesus passes the buffalo pipe to Abraham, smoking that peerless Arabian transcendence. The ancient world taught us everything, the great creator made no mistakes.

A Poem; “Riff in Am7”

I am part Buffalo.

Extinct. Timeless.

Forever breathing.

The role of philosopher,

as per my limited understanding,

is to pick pockets of proscribed history

in order to unlearn the lessons

taught to our elders by fascists.

I am no engineer.

Science. Mathematics.

Faith forever aflame.

The role of therapist,

as per my limited understanding,

is to illuminate the illusory nature of our

physical understanding of the universe,

taught to us by our grandmothers.

I am no shaman.

No body. No soul.

Just energy and neurones

firing in the face of forty years

of knowledge,

disguised as understanding,

the forever mask of the true self.

Taught by no-one.

Mirrors finally break.

There is no bad luck.

Just graft. Craft.

Sisyphus is happy.

The politics of identity is boring

when staring down the barrel of the void.

No existential crisis in the abyss,

just deep, ancient ghosts cradling me

in their otherness for eternity.

I am no you.

Me. Him.

Them. Whatever, holy man,

lead the flock to slaughter.

Starvation awaits the greedy,

turning tables at Spinoza’s gaff.

As Jesus and Buddha laugh off their asses,

some merely weep.

It’s all fool’s gold.

I am all of us,

we’re ugly,

known that forever.

Look at the vessel;

scarred by home blade,

consensual violence,

take yer best shot,

don’t be a fucking pussy.

Like Mexican food,

we fold differently,

but spices give flavour

to the driest of beans.

Look what we hold.

Past. Present.

Future, forever,

in our hands and,

with it we can create

something beautiful,

if we stop.

JANUARY BARGAINS & more propaganda from the cowpunk cult


The full 142 release MTAT discography download music collection is available with 50% off the usual price, now downloadable in one package for £44.99. That’s like 30p per release!


We’ve got new music, including the preorder of The Overbites’ “Time To Go” EP, from Fractal.420, Wreaking Joy, Vægtløs, David Delinquent and The I.O.U’s, Truth Ruiner, Knives Chau Fan Club, catslash, The Last Mile, ALLDEEPENDS & more, plus classics from Kaddish, Stonethrower, Broken Stories, Franz Nicolay, UNIFORMS, Seas, Starry, Get It Together, Goodbye Blue Monday & literally hundreds more.

“TIME TO GO” EP preorder; http://makethatatakerecords.bandcamp.com/album/time-to-go-ep

The full MAKE YER ANE COMP collection is included, dating back to the inaugural Book Yer Ane Fest hosted in Perth in November 2008. The first compilation was a run of 100 CDRs we sold for donations on the day. If anyone still has a physical copy, we’d love to see it!

MAKE YER ANE COMP IX will be released this Friday and, we hope, follows in the #makeyeranecomp tradition of celebrating underground punk rock culture whilst introducing new artists, bands & ideas. I (Derrick) curated this mixtape in good faith with love. I did the art on this occasion also.

Hope folx enjoy it. It’ll be released in solidarity with Fans Supporting Foodbanks Dundee, with monies from pay-what-you-want downloads being split straight down the middle.

We ken times are tough for awbdy and it’s a big ask for a diypunk label to be asking the most supportive community on earth for more support, but we can only stoke these flames of discontent together!


Tribalism is an illusion that benefits only the oppressor.

Call it math-rock, post-sludge, metallic hardcore, moshcore or whatever descriptor ye like, stripped to it bare bones, this is simply lead heavy brutal METAL at its most gnarly.

The church of punk, metal and hardcore is a big tent; sectarianism truly Scotland’s shame and the cause of much suffering, when we allow ourselves to believe we don’t worship at the same alter of noise. There are folx in this city who’ve being doing great work, for years, to unify the communities.

This Thursday, your friendly neighbourhood cowpunks extend a hand of friendship to all those who enjoy extreme metal & hardcore, in all its various grotesque shapes and forms, to join us for the the first of a Thursday / Saturday from MTAT & JCHC Zine.

Thursday; Pound (northwestern usa) UK Tour w/ Kakihara throughout Scotland, joined by Codespeaker and Knives Chau Fan Club. 7pm doors, first act on sharp. £8 advanced, tenner on doors.


Friday; Cirque Du Corset return for their monthly alt-drag cabaret residence with your esteemed host SLAY GUEVARA. 7pm doors from 8pm showtime. Hit up their page and / or insta for full ticket information.


Saturday; Jute City Hardcore presents Newcastle & Dundee HXC Unity with Wise Up (Nuclear Family Records) and AGGRIEVED having an away day with Truth Ruiner & Wreaking Joy. 7pm doors, £8/10. Tickets from JCHC.


All shows in Conroy’s Basement at Rad Apples Dundee. Usual house rules apply. Gigs strictly 18+, sorry. Please bring ID (this is the law, not our choice), familiarise yourself with the MTAT House Rules and be aware that we work with Good Night Out Campaign.

Vegan kitchen serving until 8pm all days.
Bar open until 11pm Thursday, midnight weekends. Please be sound to the staff at Rad Apples and all the crew. Ken ye will be!

All gigs tickets; http://makethatatakerecords.bigcartel.com/product/e-tickets


Due to some kind of system failure, all overseas shipping is currently suspended. This is a worldwide issue over which we have no control, sorry. We’ll start shipping internationally again once the Post Office up the road say it’s sound.

Seems none I’ve taken since new year have gone and there’s a bunch stuck at customs in amerikkka. Deepest joy. More information will be shared as soon as it becomes available. Apologies for the fuckery.

That said, I’m positive developments, all ALLDEEPENDS bundles have finally been shipped. We’re working our way through the TRUTH RUINER and VÆTGLØS orders at the moment, keeping time with our stated goal of having everything signed, sealed and delivered by the end of January.

Your patience is deeply appreciated, thank you all for sticking with us!


If ye didnae ken, MTAT has a YouTube channel. It’s been online for maybe 15 years (?) and contains 420+ live performance and music videos from across cowpunk history.

MTAT began before the dawn of Web 2.0 and the birth of social media as we know it, so this page has received scant use over the last five years or so, as “culture” migrated to corporate control. It’s not monetised or used for financial gain, just as a shop window. Real life is not here.

We’re trying to move away and centralise everything, as part of a strategy to move away from social media entirely. By the end of the year, all our pages will be echoes from party central. Tom MySpace won the war; taught a generation to code, sold his company and bailed. Still the best front page for bands too.

That preamble is all to say that I’ve uploaded a whole bunch of videos to Cowpunk TV, including the “Anxiety” music video from the forthcoming “Time To Go” EP from The Overbites, Book Yer Ane Fest videos from ALLDEEPENDS, Burning Flag and Truth Ruiner, Tejas emo kids Riley from SUMMERPUNKS and a couple videos from newyearsemo from Slowlight and Gossiper.

I’ll steadily be adding to the live archives over the days, weeks, months and likely years to come. The work is never done. It’s always more than music.


Please like/share/subscribe!


No fools here!

01/04/23; BUYATICKETFORTHISFEST with JOEY TERRIFYING (only Scottish gig), THE SEWER CATS (Manchester), THE CUNDEEZ, KIDS ON FIRE (Seattle, usa), FLINCH (Glasgow), THE DISORDERLIES (usa), Scottish DIY fayre w/ JCHC Zine, Mutual Scum, Struggletown, more bands & artists and more to come.

Joey Terrifying will only be playing TWO SHOWS. Learn the words, breathe deeply, express yourself clearly. Prepare for ruckus.


05/04/23; PETROL GIRLS (eng / eu) with GET IT TOGETHER (ten year anniversary show!) & ARSENIC ANNIE. 7.30pm, £10/14.
Tickets went on sale last week and have been flying out. Grab one fast!




10/04/23; FRESH (eng) & CHEERBLEEDERZ (eng) with CROCODILE TEARS and possibly one more. Post-MPF Dundee full band show a long time in coming from two of English indie pop’s most beloved exports. Likely to be turbo rammed, Rad Apples open for the SHOW ONLY.

All of these gigs are likely to sell out so please grab tickets as soon as possible to avoid disappointment. Full spring schedule coming soon!

📍 Rad Apples Dundee / Conroy’s Basement

Right, that’s enough blathers. Thank you if you’ve made it this far through the cowpunk cult propaganda newsletter. Know ye are loved and we can’t do this without you.

It’s all go.
What a time to be alive.

Derrick (MTAT)


A Poem; “An Experience of Nausea”

OG photo taken in Belfast, 2017(?)


The shattered self

and an ill sense of being.

Light a faint cold purple,

accepting of penance and repentance.


Spooked by the death of god

and developing understanding

of a thousand others,

living inside of all of us

every day,

at all times.


Fall into warm familiar darkness,

cosmic sadness.

Oscillator; contentment or resentment?


Utter disgust.

Sheer hell, a construction.




The slow unravelling.


Adequately translate

thought to mouth,

words and tangible,

reality-based action.


Damn the deconstructionists,

who enabled eugenicist mind control.

Clowns weaponising meaninglessness, ignorance.

Fuck poetics.

Constant nails down the blackboard,

third eye squeegee time.