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Killer Rack
In their generous and often euphoric first book, Sylvan Spring is constantly and irresistibly in motion.
These are poems for the sad bitches, the silly billys, the divine transsexuals, the girls who were first to get piercings not in their ears, the ones who dream of dissolving into a river, the Cocteau Twins obsessives, the average bros, the immaculate twinks, the retired popstars turned chicken farmers, and fans of 2001 masterpiece Charlie's Angels.
These are poems for the sad bitches, the silly billys, the divine transsexuals, the girls who were first to get piercings not in their ears, the ones who dream of dissolving into a river, the Cocteau Twins obsessives, the average bros, the immaculate twinks, the retired popstars turned chicken farmers, and fans of 2001 masterpiece Charlie's Angels.
- GenresPoetry
88 pages, Paperback
Published February 1, 2024
8 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 8, 2024
I think when I eventually leave Wellington I will probably take my copy of Killer Rack with me as a cultural artifact of the queer art scene there. I do not know Sylvan Spring, but since it’s Wellington, I wouldn’t be surprised to find we have mutual friends.
It is impossible to talk about KILLER RACK without talking about the music. From the track-time style page number to the title lifted from Caroline Polachek, it was definitely the part of the book that got me thinking the most. The book is mostly populated with staple Gen Z queer artists (Charli XCX, SOPHIE, Troye Sivan, the song “Murder On The Dance Floor”) that you are likely to hear in Ivy bar. It also prominently features the music you get into when you’re a queer teenager and discovering alternative styles and music (Cocteau Twins, My Chemical Romance, Jeff Buckley.) I would recommend listening to each track as it’s referenced, even if you’ve already heard it.
While every vocal artist referenced is at least decently popular, the remixes referenced will send you on a little bit of a chase. The most niche one being “you oughta know” by Alanis Morrisette, but in remix form uploaded to Soundcloud in 2012, sitting at around 300 likes as of writing this review. There is really not much chance you would be able to name this remix upon hearing it if you aren’t DJ ReOffender (bad name for a DJ) or Sylvan Spring themself. It’s not on YouTube or Spotify. It’s taking an incredibly well known thing and turning it into something so niche almost nobody would know about it, and taking ownership of that. Finding pride in isolation. Knowing that your experience is so uncommon that it’s often easier to just let yourself be misunderstood than to keep explaining it. Taking ownership of your body, your gender, your psychosexual hangups surrounding Charlie’s Angels, and facing the world unbothered.
There is an undercurrent to that though. The poem ‘wasteland’ speaks to a feeling of disconnection with Aotearoa, and that connects to the music. Not one New Zealand musician is referenced as a cultural vantage point for being queer in New Zealand, and that’s because NZ doesn’t really have much of a queer music scene. There are lots of queer musicians. But not many queer musicians here that are putting out commercially available albums or appearing on TV. Putting a big asterisk on this paragraph labeled AS FAR AS I KNOW, maybe there is one I don’t know about. But to me, the most functional queer art scene in Wellington (maybe New Zealand) is the poetry scene, where there are myriad publications and events willing to feature you, and the university presses that might just turn your work into a book. I love the Wellington queer poetry scene, and I think KILLER RACK is one of my favourite books from it.
I have been caught on the poem “I Believe”. It shares a title with Caroline Polachek’s song penned as a tribute to SOPHIE, a figure that comes up across KILLER RACK as a sort of ideal for trans art. SOPHIE was absolutely not caught up in angst or explaining herself. She just made bangers and blasted cigs. Sylvan Spring says on “I Believe”, there’s a cockiness to writing poetry. I think this is half right. I think there’s a defensiveness to writing poetry. A need to explain yourself. In a book that (TO ME) highlights the joy of not explaining yourself, it could have been a contradiction that defeats the whole point. The fact it comes off as nuanced and self-aware as it does means you just have to give Sylvan Spring their flowers as a writer. KILLER RACK is fun, free, funny, horny, radical, extremely online, and reminds me of everything I love about the people I know here. I wish the author the best and also hope more people review this and give their thoughts
It is impossible to talk about KILLER RACK without talking about the music. From the track-time style page number to the title lifted from Caroline Polachek, it was definitely the part of the book that got me thinking the most. The book is mostly populated with staple Gen Z queer artists (Charli XCX, SOPHIE, Troye Sivan, the song “Murder On The Dance Floor”) that you are likely to hear in Ivy bar. It also prominently features the music you get into when you’re a queer teenager and discovering alternative styles and music (Cocteau Twins, My Chemical Romance, Jeff Buckley.) I would recommend listening to each track as it’s referenced, even if you’ve already heard it.
While every vocal artist referenced is at least decently popular, the remixes referenced will send you on a little bit of a chase. The most niche one being “you oughta know” by Alanis Morrisette, but in remix form uploaded to Soundcloud in 2012, sitting at around 300 likes as of writing this review. There is really not much chance you would be able to name this remix upon hearing it if you aren’t DJ ReOffender (bad name for a DJ) or Sylvan Spring themself. It’s not on YouTube or Spotify. It’s taking an incredibly well known thing and turning it into something so niche almost nobody would know about it, and taking ownership of that. Finding pride in isolation. Knowing that your experience is so uncommon that it’s often easier to just let yourself be misunderstood than to keep explaining it. Taking ownership of your body, your gender, your psychosexual hangups surrounding Charlie’s Angels, and facing the world unbothered.
There is an undercurrent to that though. The poem ‘wasteland’ speaks to a feeling of disconnection with Aotearoa, and that connects to the music. Not one New Zealand musician is referenced as a cultural vantage point for being queer in New Zealand, and that’s because NZ doesn’t really have much of a queer music scene. There are lots of queer musicians. But not many queer musicians here that are putting out commercially available albums or appearing on TV. Putting a big asterisk on this paragraph labeled AS FAR AS I KNOW, maybe there is one I don’t know about. But to me, the most functional queer art scene in Wellington (maybe New Zealand) is the poetry scene, where there are myriad publications and events willing to feature you, and the university presses that might just turn your work into a book. I love the Wellington queer poetry scene, and I think KILLER RACK is one of my favourite books from it.
I have been caught on the poem “I Believe”. It shares a title with Caroline Polachek’s song penned as a tribute to SOPHIE, a figure that comes up across KILLER RACK as a sort of ideal for trans art. SOPHIE was absolutely not caught up in angst or explaining herself. She just made bangers and blasted cigs. Sylvan Spring says on “I Believe”, there’s a cockiness to writing poetry. I think this is half right. I think there’s a defensiveness to writing poetry. A need to explain yourself. In a book that (TO ME) highlights the joy of not explaining yourself, it could have been a contradiction that defeats the whole point. The fact it comes off as nuanced and self-aware as it does means you just have to give Sylvan Spring their flowers as a writer. KILLER RACK is fun, free, funny, horny, radical, extremely online, and reminds me of everything I love about the people I know here. I wish the author the best and also hope more people review this and give their thoughts
April 16, 2025
What a terrific collection of poems! This might be one of my favourites to come out of Wellington in recent years (which is a tough call, because there's a lot of excellent poetry being published by Te Herenga Waka University Press these days).
There's so much variety here, in terms of style/form and voice. I often find that even (perhaps especially) when poets don't work within rigid forms a lot of their poems end up sounding the same anyway (this could just be me, I'm not terribly well-read in poetry). With Sylvan Spring, that is absolutely not the case, and I loved how fresh everything seemed. I couldn't pick a favourite, but I thought the playlist poems were especially cool.
There's so much variety here, in terms of style/form and voice. I often find that even (perhaps especially) when poets don't work within rigid forms a lot of their poems end up sounding the same anyway (this could just be me, I'm not terribly well-read in poetry). With Sylvan Spring, that is absolutely not the case, and I loved how fresh everything seemed. I couldn't pick a favourite, but I thought the playlist poems were especially cool.
May 20, 2025
A gorgeous, fulfilling, enriching collection of defiant queer poetry. Lots to say but I'll have to re-read it to get those thoughts out.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews