Paper trails
A few weeks after Milwaukee — after the Reddit wave, the interviews, the late-night research spirals — a white envelope showed up at my door. The return address was Brooklyn. Inside was a stack of zines: my first set of Train Songz back issues.
They weren’t slick. They weren’t algorithmic.They weren’t designed for virality. They were handmade. Physical. Thoughtful.
I came of age in the 90s, when zines were the lifeblood of indie culture. Punk zines, hardcore newsletters, Maximum Rocknroll — all proof a scene existed. In my early interviews, I heard it again and again — “you’ve got to check out Train Songz.”
It’s a handmade archive of a fan community refusing to exist solely online.
The zine launched for the fall and NYE 2023 run, and issues two and three quickly followed. This fall the eighth edition will hit the lots.
Train Songz traffics in the kind of content that has always made zines essential: fan essays, illustrations, inside jokes and reflections. Curious about the various lengths and styles of “Wild Bill Jones”? They’ve got you covered. Issue one set the tone, with detailed stats on the number of actual train songs that appeared in sets, along with insights like an audience can expect a train song 70 percent of the time when Billy is wearing a hat.
It reaches beyond Brooklyn, pulling in contributors from around the country.
It’s the scene documenting itself, in its own voice, with its own obsessions: railroads, setlist statistics, the vast universe of old-time music, and, naturally, songs about trains.
In a world where everything is content, Train Songz feels defiantly human.
Of course, for someone like me who’s scrambling to get up to speed, Train Songz offers a vital education — not just by unearthing the stories behind these age-old tunes, but also by documenting the scene in the real time. How much better is an enthusiastic review of the live debut of “Richard Petty” printed in ink? (Issue one!)
It’s fun to read the issues chronologically and watch the creative development and growth of the platform: new features, advertisers, charts, games, comics and contributors, more familiar deep dives on old time tunes. By issue 5, the masthead listes nearly 20 contributors.
In the time since I grabbed my first issue, it’s become clear that Train Songz is more than just a media entity — it’s a hub. You’ll find artists in their pages selling custom tees outside arenas; the Train Songz data comes through a partnership with the awesome BMFDB site, run by a couple of dedicated fans in Ohio; and Train Songz has even begun hosting shows along tentpole tour stops.
I have no doubt Train Songz will continue to evolve, but remain a core part of the BMFS universe.
Train Songz taught me a few things about the scene:
This scene is about myth-making: Train Songz articulates the railroad mythology that runs through Billy’s music and American roots culture.
This fandom cares deeply about preservation, which mirrors the archival instinct behind fan projects like BMFDB and the broader culture of tapering and documentation.
Next, the scene contains multitudes — thinkers, writers, observers, data analysts, historians, jokesters.
Finally, Billy’s audience has more in common with punk and DIY ethos than people realize. There’s the same spirit of self-publishing, self-organizing, and self-understanding.
Beyond being an education, Train Songz reminded me that what I’m making shouldn’t feel sterile. It should feel lived in. Handheld. Messy. Alive.
Like a zine.
If Milwaukee showed me the size of this story, Train Songz gave me a glimpse into its soul.
