From a 2005 entry at, of all places, The American Prospect:
Back in the lo-fi bliss of mid-1980s, the Columbus, Ohio band Great Plains wrote a song called "Letter to a Fanzine." It was a brilliantly Janus-faced take on indie rock's navel gazing, neatly encompassing satire and self-satisfaction. ("Isn't my haircut really intense / Isn't Nick Cave a genius in a sense?") Rock critics of that era rejoiced in Ron House's nasal sneer and the garage-band swirl of organ and guitar laid down by brothers Mark and Matt Wyatt. The question at the center of "Fanzine" -- "Why do punk rock guys go out with new wave girls?" -- remains the band's most-cited bon mot.
But like any novelty tune, "Fanzine" was a dead end. The ultimate joke-as-epitaph. Great Plains' three records on Homestead went out of print, seemingly buried along with the other trendy labels (4AD, SST) the song name-checks. House's next band, Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments, found greater success than the Plains ever glimpsed. They copped a major label record with 1995's Bait and Switch (American).
Thus were Great Plains pegged as court jesters to a long-entombed scene. In some ways, this tag was strangely self-perpetuating. A two-disc compilation released in 2000 on Old 3C Records, Length of Growth, kicks off with an intro from novelty rock king Dr. Demento. A subsequent odds'n'sods collection, 2003's Cornflakes (also Old 3C), includes House and the band bulldozing through borderline psychotic cover versions of "This Magic Moment" and "Call On Me."
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