We’ve teased one or two things lately and, at times, it might have felt that we’re drip-feeding never nevers. But when we started Showboat almost a year ago, we had designs on something bigger than a shirt collectors’ app - as important as that is to us.

And we’re getting closer. We’ve built the app and if you’ve seen our socials or read our newsletter, you’ll know we’re building our own culture too. We know it’s one that is resonating with you all and that means more to us than anything.

So, while we put the finishing touches on our next big thing™️, we thought we’d devote a good chunk of this issue to someone who’s built their own thing, nurtured a subculture and given football fans something to treasure.

Here’s how we line up for Issue #8

📋 Team selections - The definitive Showboat cultural picks
🍻 Pre-match interview - A Pint with…Lower Block
💥 Showboaters - Those peacocking in our community this month
👕 Post Match Clobber - Shirts we can’t get enough of
🔊 Singing us off - Manchester’s finest bows out

Team Selections

↣ Kick the Latch by Kathryn Scanlan - Quite simply the best thing I’ve read in years. Buy it. You’ll finish it in a day. LK. 

↣ Some Like It Hot by Bar Italia - London’s most enigmatic band ditch the mystery and deliver something more interesting: revelation. RL. 

↣ The Mastermind - Kelly Reichardt’s film that follows the world’s worst art thief will have you transfixed. AR.

↣ Gordon Moakes (ex-Bloc Party) wrote this beautiful piece on the bass player’s bass player, Gary “Mani” Mounfield, for The Quietus on Monday. It’s worth your time. LK.

Matt Lidbury worked in Fleet Street newsrooms before starting something of his own, something that captured football culture in a more authentic way. Lower Block became an outlet not just for him, but for photographers, writers and fans who wanted to see the game the way they saw it. We grabbed a few pints with Matt in one of our favourite North London boozers, the King Charles I, and chewed the fat.

So, how did Lower Block start?
It began as a passion project, really. I’d been working as a picture editor for national newspapers, commissioning photographers all over the world, but I wanted to do something that felt more me. It was a brilliant grounding but, honestly, it got boring working through so much bad news all the time. Lower Block gave me a way to still tell stories, but my way. Something creative. Something with a bit of soul. Football’s always been the constant in my life, so it made sense to merge that experience with the game. It wasn’t about goals or players. It was about the people, the places, the feeling of it all. The stuff around the game that makes it matter.

How long before you wanted to match print with what you were doing online?
I love printed matter. I grew up with newspapers, magazines like Shoot and Match. So I thought - why not print these images properly? I started doing photozines. The first one was on Pompey Casuals. Since then, I’ve done forty-eight. Each one focuses on a different corner of football culture - from British terraces in the ‘80s and ‘90s to the architecture of Milan’s San Siro - all made in collaboration with photographers. They get 50% of the profits. I’m not trying to make fifty-quid photo books. I want something accessible. Football wasn’t built on expensive things - it’s about fans, community, being part of something.

Why the physical thing?
There’s something about holding it. It gives you skin in the game. Social media’s great, but you see something for half a second and it’s gone. A zine makes you pause. You can flick through it in the pub, hand it to your mate. That’s football culture - the shared moments. The zines are the same size as old football programmes - A5, simple, tangible. That’s important.

It’s funny, because football itself feels less tangible these days.
Totally. Look at Premier League clubs - they’re run like fashion brands. Arsenal right now? More successful as a fashion label than a football club. They’re collabing with Maharishi and adidas, and fair play, but most fans would rather see trophies than limited-edition tracksuits. I think clubs have stopped listening to their real supporters. They’re chasing tourist fans who’ll buy shirts in the megastore. But what about the two thousand who go away every week? The ones who’ve been going for decades? They’ve priced them out. I’ve been going to Spurs for thirty five years, and my dad’s been going for fifty - but it doesn’t feel that type of loyalty means anything to big clubs.

So, is Lower Block about preserving that past or documenting the present?
It’s both. Football’s identity lives in its memories, but also in how people connect to it now. Some people want to look back - nostalgia, emotion, remembering where they were. Others are curious about how football feels today. So I try to strike a balance.

Have any of the zines surprised you in how well they’ve done?
Yeah, a few. Italian football ones always fly. There’s a romanticism there that crosses borders. But the British ones - the old stuff, Burnley, Scunthorpe - that’s what Lower Block is really about. Those fans get it straight away. They see someone doing something cool around their club and they buy it. If you do a Manchester United issue, how do you reach the right people? The real ones, not the global followers? It’s tough. But that’s part of the fun. Each project is a challenge - how do you reach the community that cares?

And where does it go next?
I’ll always do the zines - they’re the lifeblood. But there’ll be exhibitions, collaborations, stuff that builds on it. I’m not chasing money for the sake of it. I’ve got an obligation to the photographers and to the culture. If something doesn’t feel right, I can say no. It’s like in music - the bands that last aren’t the manufactured pop acts. They’re the ones that stay true to what they started as. If it stays authentic, people will keep coming. Football fans can sniff out what’s real. That’s why things like Lower Block exist. To document the real stuff - the grit, the humour, the connection.

No one gets into it for money at the beginning, do they?
They really don’t. Not the players when they start, not the fans. It costs you money to follow a team. But you do it anyway, because it’s yours. It’s about the lived moments. It’s not about money. If one zine ends up getting passed round the pub, that’s better than ten people buying it to sit on a shelf. That’s what football’s about, isn’t it?

What’s the most photogenic stadium?
It’s all subjective, but for pure visuals? Probably The San Siro. You can’t beat it — those lines, that concrete, it’s cinematic. But for me, it’ll always be White Hart Lane. Not just because of architecture, but because of the memories. It’s who you were with, what you were feeling. A stadium’s like a pub or a club - it holds emotion. I look at old photos of the Lane in the early ‘90s and I feel happy. Photography can do that - freeze the feeling.

And terrace fashion?
The casuals changed everything. The 1980s were the peak. That era invented the idea of football fans dressing well. Before that it was flares and sheepskin coats. Then lads started coming back from Europe with adidas trainers and Lacoste polos. That look’s never gone away. It’s still part of the DNA of the game. I’m not glorifying violence, but the casuals had style. They made terrace fashion cool without meaning to. You still see traces of it everywhere - even in high fashion.

Has the game gone?
Football’s changed loads, yeah. But as long as people still care enough to talk about it - in pubs, in zines, wherever - the culture’s alive. That’s what matters.

Showboaters

↣ John Devlin’s new book Hoops Through History pores over every QPR kit ever made. Considering they’ve got a back catalogue of shirts to rival any club, it’s a blinding addition to any collector’s bookshelf.

↣ Yardball might be our new favourite thing. It gives kids a chance to play football the way many of us used to - smashing a ball against walls, ice cream vans and through tyres.

Post Match Clobber

↣ Everyone’s second favourite nation have dropped a humdinger just in time for the World Cup.

↣ Ronaldo might be the biggest wally in the game, but he’ll look half decent next summer in this for Portugal:

That’s Issue #8 in the books, folks. We’re buzzing to have you on this journey with us. We’re on Instagram too, if you’d like a more frequent Showboat dose.

Cheers!

Lee, Rob & Antonio

We’ll sign off with Mani’s masterpiece this month. A bass-line that trembled through halls, arenas and generations. His joy was matched by everyone who heard it. Go well.