Rag Mag 25
What's up rag mag? Hope yr hanging in there in this crazy world. Make some time with your family and friends and enjoy the times we have. Don't let the bastards grind you down. This week we have part 2 of Creature on the Road 2 - the Elizabeths run from Mr. Mittens, Wasteland Chick's reviews a song from the musical Heathers, Splinters by Leela Corman, new art from Coco A Go-Go, and Creature's Double Feature.
Hit us up at ragmagclub @ proton.me with flyers, art, feedback, column ideas, or just to say hi. We archived several columns and music reviews on the new site (rag-mag.ghost.io), so check it out.
Punks help punks
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-jack-rebuild-his-life-postcancer
Coco A Go-Go
Trying to stay positive and creative, but with the fascist federal government ordering troops to Portland using "full force", I mean, shit. Been a busy couple weeks, so Creature's double feature this week features some blatant self promotion, links, and a sympathy vs. empathy explainer courtesy of a Sammo Hung film (I'm as shocked as you are).
First up, my noise rock/punk band Tigers on Vaseline is playing our first show on Saturday October 4th at Lost Bag here in Providence with Erica Dawn Lyle, Ashley Frith, and Anka Raczynska. Flyer below. Ask a punk (aka me) for directions/details. For a better write up on the show as well as an incredibly touching tribute to Bruce Loose from Flipper (and scarily accurate assessment of my own feelings on Flipper), go visit Jacob in his castle. The current political situation has had me jamming Bill Fox/The Mice's all timer Not Proud of the USA on repeat. Lastly, despite still being on the other platform, here's a link to a really well articulated piece by a local religious coalition leader on recent events published by Steve Ahlquist (and thanks to him for his irreplaceable and tireless reporting on local RI issues).
Yr ol' pal Creature loves old martial arts films and I am a huge fan of Sammo Hung's choreography and direction (and how can he be that damn graceful), but his humor in movies usually leads more to be desired. I re-watched one of his early masterpieces Pedicab Driver for the first time in forever and was blown away by a (much longer than my screenshots below) scene wherein one of the characters learns that his new girlfriend is a sex worker at a dinner with friends. With all the talk of empathy in the air and people demanding context that someone believed in sympathy, just not empathy, here's a handy explainer of why we need empathy.
SYMPATHY
Above the characters discover that Malted Candy's new girlfriend is a sex worker. They react with anger and insults, but the friend told Malted Candy because he felt sympathy. He felt sympathetic that his friend was in an uncomfortable situation and extends that feeling of kindness. While understandable to not want to hurt your friend, this reaction to the situation leaves all characters unhappy.
EMPATHY
Above the characters learn empathy for Malted Candy's girlfriend and self-reflect on their own actions and prejudices. This is what the right says doesn't exist and is dangerous, the ability to place yourself into another's situation, try to understand where they are coming from, and change your own actions and attitudes so that we can all have a better outcome.
Records of the week
First up is a new one from Kaleidoscope - Cities of Fear on La Vida Es Un Mus Records. Another killer record from the d4mt lab Brooklyn guys featuring members of straw man army, ivy, deformity, tower 7 and so many more. This sounds a lot angrier than the earlier records from this crew, and they rip through 8 raw songs. Heavy 80s anarcho-punk vibes with raw, chaotic energy. Good lyrics and a cool poster is included as well. Rips.
merricktall
Next is the new Eskolopendra - Criminal LP on metadona records. First time I think I've heard a band from Tenerife (Canary Islands). Punk truly can thrive anywhere. Love the vocals. Catchy, dark and primitive, it sounds like the teenage punk band you wish you were in.
Luke
Soul song of the day
I was digging at the flea market a couple weeks back and found a pretty clean copy of the northern soul classic Nothing but a Heartache by The Flirtations which I grabbed for a friend. Of course it made me spin this record over and over. Here's the official video. The best.
Splinters by Leela Corman
Wasteland Chick
Tsk, tsk. Every time! Salutations, fellow Wasteland Chicks. Welcome back, where your local tween punk has obsessed over a new musical, and this time it’s Heathers! Now before the nostalgia bomb hits hard for a few of you readers, let’s get to it before the void consumes us. Anyway, today we’ll be reviewing the song “Candy Store” from Act 1 of Heathers: The Musical. To start off, I give the rhythm and melody a 9 out of ten. It’s vibe-able, and also has a great balance of rhythmic drum beats and dramatic stings. I also love the little musical annunciations of some of the words characters sing. It-It’s just wow 😀. Anyway, next we have the lyrics which I give a ten out of 10. The lyrics are just amazing! Everybody sings awesomely, Heather Chandler’s vocals are incredible and perfectly manipulative of Veronica, surprisingly Heather McNara is awesome in her few singing lines where she tries to convince Veronica that Martha isn’t worth it as a friend (It’s mean but I love Heather Chandler’s singing delivery of “Say goodbye to Shamu”, like, so SMOOTH!), and Heather Duke is Heather Duke. Chaotic show-stealing queen. OVERALL REVIEW TIME!: I give this song a 9.9 out of ten, the rhythm and melody are near perfection and vibe-able, the lyrics express the Heathers’ attempts to seduce Veronica into joining the group (Am I using that right?), and the lyrics are sung so smoothly by everybody. Also, SHUT UP HEATHER! Context: I couldn’t find any memes of that moment 😣. For the love of Ghost Zombie Jesus, don’t blow up your school without me fellow Wasteland Chicks. BYE!
Sincerely and dearly, Wasteland Chick
Creature on the road 2- the Elizabeth’s run - By Mr. Mittens
The drive down was nothing but a light breeze. I even took the last part on the main road, hell my cab was empty and the rock salt had long been sniffed, there was nothing they could steal or be bribed with, and the beautiful pinpointed hyperfocus that the salt had provided me was just what I needed to drive the way they liked. The mood was so light that I even wasted a filter on my breather and rolled down the windows just to feel the salt encrusted breeze on my cheek. The heat was abysmal and it lapped at my arm and face like a boiling wave, I let it wear me down until finally I had to roll the windows back up. Still, just the smell of all that water was enough to keep my head high. I wanted desperately to use my last few credits on a couple new songs, something to keep the party going, but I knew that the minute I pressed the pay button, a gnashing and sour feeling of guilt would attack me. I couldn’t guarantee that this job would end with credits, shit I couldn’t even guarantee that I wouldn’t lose credits I didn’t have. Negative credits is a hell that eats its own tail and you with it. I’ve climbed out of it so many times only to willingly fall back in every time. I resisted the urge to waste what little I had, but I knew it would only circle back again in due time.
I reached the pickup at 4:33, not bad really considering the roads in town are covered in an inch of muck and bird shit from May to December. The best you can do is allow it to pull you forward and hope the smell doesn’t seep into the vents. The countdown to 6pm, was running smoothly, I could hear it ticking like a heart beat in my head. I parked the van beside a square concrete building painted a tiresome and ugly red. “American Red” is what the paint cans called it, and it was mandatory for any and all buildings not being used for law enforcement or corporate business. American Red means you’re a searchable entity. The trick is to keep your building looking somewhere between mildly faded to almost due for a repaint, with several test sections left in fresh paint on the walls so it seems like you’re already tackling the problem. Fresh red means a brand new business or worse, an establishment that’s actively making a profit. Everybody springs for the small can and a few splatters. The government has a chokehold on that particular color and they love to play with the price they set on it. You want to stay in the middle so as to seem not new enough to raid and not flush enough to steal from. Hell, I know a kid who makes her living just aging the walls of fresh buildings. She’s got a whole system set up with chemicals and shit, one quick mist and by morning that shit red looks five years older and five times more tolerable. It’s a ridiculous enterprise, but so is life really.
I honked my horn twice and waited, putting my legs up on the dashboard and stretching my arms. I could feel a slight tingle on my cheek, sun burn most likely. It was only a mild sting and not totally unpleasant. There’s something about that warmth right on your cheek that feels wonderfully innate, my pop said that people just sat out in it with just a few scraps of clothes and a towel to sleep on. He said that when he was a boy the sun was like a friend, a warm hand that felt nice on your back. Back then, the sun didn’t rage and fume you, it didn’t eat away at your skin bit by bit until finally it sloughed off like a cancerous river. I can’t really buy into that, but man if he was being honest, that sounds like heaven to me. I checked my face in the mirror looking for any change in color. The longer I stared the more I tricked myself into seeing a slight tan spot growing on my cheek. I’d probably have to get it checked just to be safe, I could hear my pockets emptying at the very thought of getting another mole zapped. I scratched my face and honked one more time, hoping Bug would come crawling out of his little hole of an office and bring me my cargo.
That's it for this week Rag Mag. Here's some flyers and keep sending stuff in (ragmagclub @ proton.me)
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