Jerks™ founder Matt Sloane curates his vintage finds like a record store

Counter to some spiritual beliefs, the material world does hold weight. An object can be a way of memorializing human experience, our feelings, memories, and connections. We start collections that solidify our sense of identity, create narratives that bear witness to all we’ve done, what and whom we’ve loved. Some find solace in snow globes — others have hoarded Pogs. There are coin collectors, sneakerheads, and that girl on TikTok with hundreds of “Dandelion” colored crayons.

The archiving tradition mirrors fandom in many ways — and for that reason, the alternative music world has always embraced it. Whether it’s rare vinyl variants, tour posters, or merch — to be a part of, we compile shrines to our passions. Bands themselves showcase their own musical references, and history, from stages small and large — Paramore’s Hayley Williams wore archive Blondie and Siouxsie and the Banshees gear on the Eras tour, whereas Pete Wentz ziplined across the stage at When We Were Young in a ’90s Earth Crisis shirt. 

Read more: Night Gallery and Yasi Salek of Bandsplain bond over the power of bootlegs

Over the last decade, in the post-hipster landscape, we’ve seen a wave of articulate vintage curation swell, with much focus on archive designer pieces, Y2K style, streetwear — and sought-after, paper-thin band tees. While those of us who’ve been fiending for a 1987 Butthole Surfers surfing graphic shirt since it was confiscated in middle school — namely me, and I’m still looking, if you see one — the hunt has long since been a cycle of scouring eBay, thrift shops, and flea markets. But more recently, I’ve stumbled upon dangerous places like Nashville’s Black Shag and Austin’s Stitches Vintage — highly curated, thoughtful brick-and-mortar havens for music nerds like myself to source a rare Misfits crewneck, and the ultimate Crazy Town 1998 tour tee, respectively. However, it wasn’t until over the summer, on a trip to London, that I fully arrived. Matt Sloane launched the South London-based brand Jerks™ a little less than a decade ago as an online platform, under the moniker Teejerker. At the time, the focus was entirely on, unsurprisingly, T-shirts — rare vintage ones, from merch drops by artists like Aphex Twin, Hole, and Björk. Since, not only has business soared, Jerks™ now has a regular pop-up at Heaven by Marc Jacobs and Aries, is a trusted source for celebrity shoppers, and has expanded out of the T-shirt realm and into ephemera of all kinds, band-related and beyond — hence the name change. Not to mention, there’s a proper Jerks™ shop now. 

Boiling it down, what truly sets Jerks™ apart is Sloane himself. He’s got an eye for items that will pull at your heartstrings, and by proxy, your wallet’s. Entering the space he’s crafted, you can feel it buzzing, each piece alive with its own story, song, moment in time. And for those who can’t trek to the U.K. to quench their thirst for that grail tee, there’s a bustling site where Sloane launches new inventory regularly — and having witnessed the Jerks™ inventory room, and its rack dedicated to every Hole T-shirt you’ve never seen, I can confirm every drop is stacked.

Firstly, how did you get here? 

I grew up in the South of England, in a coastal town called Bournemouth. Being right by the coast, there was a bit of a surf and skate scene, which was cool. I was obsessed with skating when I was younger — if I wasn’t in school, I was skating, and if it was raining, I’d be playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. Getting into skateboarding early definitely pulled me into alternative culture. I remember watching Toy Machine’s Jump Off a Building around age 9 and just being blown away, especially by the soundtrack. I had a few older friends I’d skate with, and I learned a lot from them. One guy on my street, Dale, lent me Slipknot’s self-titled album when it came out, which was a big moment — kind of scary but fascinating, too.

When it comes to collecting and selling, I went through a few collecting phases as a kid — Pogs, Pokémon, etc. — but records really stuck. I’d spend most of my spare cash on records I had to have. I think it was only a matter of time before record collecting and my love for used clothing turned into some weird project. Luckily, that happened at the right time, and in 2017-ish, we really caught the wave of curated vintage.

From band merch to film and ephemera — the way you’ve curated Jerks™ shows that cultural objects have immense meaning outside of their functionality — not only to a single person, but can also symbolize a time, place, or group experience. Can you speak to this?

I’ve always been drawn to the idea of nostalgia and how certain things can transport you back to a specific moment or feeling. I find it kind of metaphysical how an object, record, poster, T-shirt, etc. can evoke so much feeling beyond what it is on the surface. I think it’s especially true in subcultures. There’s a sense of discovery when you’re a bit of a lost teenager, coming across something alternative that speaks to you in a way nothing else has yet. And it’s not just about the thing itself; it’s about how these cultures reference and influence each other. The connections between them make it even more powerful and important at the time.

I actually experienced this recently when I was clearing out my teenage room. I found these homemade Justice and Ed Banger shirts I’d made, along with an old Boys Noize T-shirt. It was like instant, vivid flashbacks to being obsessed with French electronic music at the time. I couldn’t believe how heavy Justice were, like sampling Master of Puppets, and how they were wearing metal tees but playing club nights. At the time, hearing anything from Ed Banger in Bournemouth felt like the most exciting thing ever. We’d be out trying to sneak into the uni’s electronic nights a few years too young — because that felt like where we belonged at that time. 

You’ve definitely created something unique, a brand that lives outside of “hype” culture but has its own feverish hype around it. What for, and where, are you looking when you source?

When it comes to what I’m looking for, there are a few key factors. With music T-shirts and ephemera, I’ve always drawn inspiration from record stores. This whole project started with the idea of creating the T-shirt equivalent of a great record store’s curation — that vision has stuck with me. But more recently, it’s not just about old stuff; we’ve had pieces from bands like Turnstile and Title Fight that have flown out, proving that newer items can carry just as much weight as vintage finds. Broadly speaking, I want everything to feel special — thought-provoking, inspiring, and like it could genuinely become someone’s new favorite piece.

I’ve always been turned off by the bulk vintage model — the kind of places that just wholesale-import a load of stuff and hang it up on rails without much thought. I want to hand-pick everything, to be the complete opposite of that, offering pieces that feel curated, intentional, and meaningful. These days, I’m floating between the USA, Japan, and Thailand when I’m buying physically. Equally, there is always a lot of good stuff online, especially with the additional sales platforms that are out there now. We have a couple of people who help [with] online sourcing for us. They send through possible Jerks™ stock, and then I narrow down from there. This helps a lot, as it’s quite time-consuming to be trawling through eBay, etc. for hours.

What’s your best memory of finding a piece?

A few stories spring to mind, both from a finding POV. About three years ago, I was in an old warehouse full of deadstock stuff in Dallas. It was my birthday, 110-plus degrees in a warehouse with no AC and a tin roof. It was a brutal day, and it wasn’t looking too fruitful, digging through loads of old sports stuff, not of interest to us at all. Me and my friend pulled out a beat-up dirty box, and among more random sports crap, there were two My Bloody Valentine Glider long sleeves from 1990. I was fully in shock to see these tees. They were so out of place, both a bit stained and used but still extremely rare, and valuable, items — finding one would be wild, but two is insane. Happy birthday to me.

The next one was more recent, at Paris Fashion Week. A friend of mine works for Dime and was in town setting up their showroom. They had to have some last-minute painting and decorating done, so a team came in — and to my friends’ surprise, this middle-aged Parisian painter was wearing an original the Breeders Last Splash T-shirt from 1993. Mark got to talking to him, expecting him to be a mega fan, but no. The guy had no idea about the shirt and through broken English was just explaining it was his work shirt. A trade ensued, and the painter was extremely happy to trade his old work shirt for a new pair of Vans x Dime shoes. As any good friend would, Mark came to me with the story and a trade, and I’m pretty sure I still have that tee now.

Finally, I was in Austin and able to come in contact with quite a lot of Daniel Johnston’s actual shirts. It was a crazy time capsule as they were dirty, had dinner split down, and so on. He’d even Sharpie’d on his name to a kind of rugby top. I actually didn’t buy any of these. [They] felt more like museum pieces rather than things to flip, but really cool nonetheless. 

If you could only source or sell one band’s merch for a year, who would it be?

Maybe Radiohead. They’re not my favorite band at all, but they did make a lot of sick stuff through the years — loads of good album artwork, and they were way ahead of their time when it came to merch. In the late ’90s, they even had their own brand called W.A.S.T.E., which was pretty progressive — they were doing things like cut-and-sew production and custom tags, really taking ownership of their merchandise in a way that most artists weren’t at the time. They also did cool promo campaigns, like gluing the OK Computer cassettes into cassette players to send to the press — so they could get the album reviewed without it being leaked. There are very few of these cassette players out there, and they’re pretty valuable.

First piece of merch you ever purchased? First album you bought?

My first CD was Eiffel 65 – “Blue.” Still think it’s a banger today. In terms of merch, I think it was a blink tee.