31 Mar 2025 10 min read punk

Rag Mag 9

Hey Punks, Welcome back to issue 9 of Rag Mag. It’s getting scary out there with people being kidnapped off the street by masked thugs purporting to be ICE agents, but all I see is fucking thugs. Stay strong, look out for each other, and don’t back down. Got some more flyers for events including protests coming up, so hope to see people out there. Back to the reason for this mag, which is talking about punk, the best unimportant thing in the world. This week Dan Wars’ It’s Casual is back with a great tale about the legendary D.S.B. tour back in the early 2000s (ed. note, he’s also hosting his weekly horror night this Tuesday - check the flyer). Wasteland Chick takes on Angry Samoan’s classic “Lights Out”, Leela Corman returns with another Splinters, and, as always, yr ol’ pal Creature’s Double Feature. Stay safe and hope to see you soon.

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I found out last week that my old friend Katie Kay had passed away. Her legal name was Katie Valdivia. Nicknames without explanation are a common thing for punks. I always called “Katie the K” after the old disc jockey.

I was never terribly close with Katie but spent a ton of time hanging out with her and around her. She was funny and warm and I always really liked her, I have some great memories of her.

In November of 2003, the Japanese punk band D.S.B. (Defiance of Shit Bastards) did a three day East Coast US tour- Providence, NYC, and Philly. I went to the Providence show, a Friday night in one of the old Olneyville warehouse spaces, The Pink Rabbit. In classic Providence DIY style, the gig didn’t start until after 11pm. It was wild and fun and kind of a blur, I was partying pretty hard that night. The band looked cool as fuck and the show was packed. I had a memory of there being a giant hole in the middle of the space that dropped down a couple of flights to the ground level and kids slam dancing perilously close to it, but that was most likely a different space and during a Limp Wrist show.

It was one of those nights where the entire room felt very alive, the air crackling with energy. The band looked cool as fuck and put on a great show, loud and untamed. People slammed and piled on each other. Beer was spilled. Bottles were broken. It was lovely.

My friends and I drove back to Boston while the sun was rising, getting back to my apartment, Bloodstains Across Somerville, with enough time for a power nap before a very hungover shift at the erotic bakery I worked at downtown. That night I went out and got drunk, possibly at a show at the HOSS but more likely at 80s night at Man Ray. I got home after last call and found my roommates and some friends hanging out in the kitchen. I cracked a beer, lit a smoke, and plopped down on the sofa, slipping comfortably into one of the conversations going on. At a certain point the party moved outside and eventually into a minivan and ultimately to Philadelphia for the third D.S.B. show.

I’m pretty sure it was Katie Kay’s minivan with too many kids packed in, making an overnight drive down the coast to the city of brotherly love to see a band from Japan play in a church. I had no intention of joining this expedition but a lot of my life when I was a young punk was defined by random experiences and going with the flow. You might tie your shoes in the morning but the mortician might be the one to untie them in the evening, you never know where the day will take you.

We got to Philly early and I went for a long walk to find coffee and a pack of smokes. It was early Sunday morning and the streets were empty, the city just starting to wake up. I really like this very precise and delicate part of the week, the intersection of the very last of the still awake weekend party monsters and the first of the Sunday morning early risers, passing each other in the street and then standing in line together at the cafe.

The show that day was a matinee at the First Unitarian Church, the gig wasn’t for hours but people were already starting to gather outside. Besides the friends I drove there with, there was a strong Boston presence. I caught up with people I knew from Philly and NYC, lots of laughs and hugs. I love fucking around and hard hanging. The gig was a blast but radically different than the Providence show. Most of the same bands played both days but that was in a dark and dangerous warehouse and this was in a brightly lit church with an audience that was significantly younger and more clean cut.

Between bands I was hanging outside with Katie Kay who was feeling a little blue over some romantic complications. I told her that I needed five minutes and the keys to the minivan to cheer her up.

Back then I regularly wore cop shirts, light blue with dark blue pockets and flaps on the shoulders. I was wearing one that day. At the minivan I grabbed a cop hat I had brought with me. I’ve always kind of had a thing about uniforms, costumes, and a good gag. I walked back to the show, which was located on a busy one way street, grabbing a trio of large traffic cones I had noticed earlier. I used the cones to block the road and using a whistle and some clip on sunglasses I had brought with me, started directing oncoming traffic into the large parking lot across the street. The only exit to the lot fed back into the one way up the street, essentially creating a loop that was impossible to escape. This was a really busy road and people weren’t too happy about this detour. I just kept on blowing my whistle and telling people to move along. As you could imagine, things got fucked up right quick. The parking lot I was directing cars into became hopelessly gridlocked which caused the street to completely back up. This blocked the intersection up the road and caused ripple effect traffic jams through out the entire area.

Nobody was going anywhere. Eventually a motorcycle cop came zooming up the street and I ran inside with Katie Kay, both of us giggling uncontrollably. I ditched the hat and cop shirt and bought a T-shirt from the band NO FUCKER, which I still have but hasn’t fit me years. I blended into the crowd and when I popped my head outside forty five minutes later for a smoke, the street was still really congested and there was a mess of cops still trying to sort things out.

In retrospect this was a dangerous and lousy thing to do but I was young and dumb and eager to cheer up a friend and cause some mischief. That was a good weekend, back in 2003. Rest in peace Katie the K. I’ll catch you on the other side.

Dan Wars

Humanvapor@gmail.com

Art by Mr. Mittens

“Splinters” by Leela Corman

Wasteland Chick

Please tell me someone else my age knows this show. It’s freaking funny. Salutations, fellow Wasteland Chicks. Welcome back. Now normally during this, this Wasteland Chick is dreading school on Monday, but today I’m looking forward to Monday off! Heck yeah! Anyway, let’s play a game: How many Tesla’s did yours truly flip off today? If you guessed 3, you’d be correct! I think. There was a double Tesla, so we can’t be sure. Anyways, let’s get down to business: Today we’ll be reviewing a personal favorite picked by our own Mr. Mittens! A plot twist! Mr. Mittens has chosen “Lights Out” by the Angry Samoans. This song rules. I’ve been listening and vibing out to this with Creature and Mr. Mittens for years and we love it! It’s just a good song. Starting with the rhythm and melody, I give it a 10 out of ten, it just rules. It’s very excitable and punk, giving a good ear feel to the song overall. Next, the lyrics. The lyrics are, and I hate to sound like a broken record (someone should start taking score), kind of repetitive, but are very cool. It’s almost like a punk poem in a song. Definitely a karaoke song for sure. Let’s get down to the overall review: *Insert the music from the Spongebob Krusty Krab training video here* Overall score is a ten out of ten. An awesome, vibe-able, cool song to listen to whenever you’re driving to the local pizza place, going up country (Chester reference, anyone?), or just hanging out, this song is awesome. Fun fact, while in a drive in for the crappy movie, Dr. Strange Multiverse of Madness, I made Mr. Mittens crack up when I sang the lyrics “Poke poke, poke your eyes out” when Dr. Strange pokes a creature's eye out. Hilarious! And now a riddle: How much more can Trump take from us, first it’s our rights, now it’s our sanity! Don’t let those assholes worm their way into the black matter of your brain, fellow Wasteland Chicks. Bye!

Sincerely, WASTELAND CHICK

Overhang Party

Yr dear pal Creature loves punk music, but moreover I love raw emotional music made by real people for the purposes of expressing themselves. And fuzz guitars, I love fuzzed out guitars. Which brings us to this Double Feature, the first 2 albums from Japan’s Overhang Party.

Overhang Party’s first s/t LP was self released in a mere 200 copies in 1993 on guitarist Fukuoka Rinji’s Pataphysique Records, which still operates to today releasing records by his latest band Majutsu no Niwa (see link). There was a reissue sometime in the 2000s that seems to still be affordable despite being limited to 500 copies. The minimalist white on white aesthetic is striking as is the music, a psychedelic noise rock album that is also surprisingly dream-like with its long songs and droney synthesizer, meeting fuzzed out psychedelic guitar. A hell of an opening statement.

Overhang Party - “Second”

At first glance, the black on black worn sleeve feels heavy, but pretty minimalist. It’s also a near identical inverse of the first LP. A glance inside though, and there is a heavy duty black on black insert with all of the lyrics in a really nice minimalist package, an insert with song titles and credits (if you can send me a copy, please do I need it), and an additional insert we will talk about in a minute. The lyrics are abstract and poetic, fitting the mood of the basic rock riffs with super fuzzed out guitars and drifting out into fuzzy psychedelic noisy bliss. Gone is the synthesizer sound from the first album and now onto basic 2 and 3 chord rock and roll songs soaring into fuzzed out chaos. One of Creature’s all time faves. But now, the promised insert. It’s a statement from Pataphysique Representative (which I assume must be the band/Fukuoka Rinji) with a strong statement about their vision and the reason for the elaborate packaging, all limited to 200 copies again. They cite as inspiration words from the ultra-nationalist Yukio Misima (who performed seppuku after leading an attempted coup to restore the emperor), while being adamant they are not the right wing. Kinda wild to think about that with the ultra-nationalist fascist piss babies currently throwing a white nationalist temper tantrum here in the US. Anyway, no right wing sounds herein and I take it as them admiring the symbolism in standing up to current majority. A beautiful, fucked up sounding record that I love.

It’s been a hell of a week, so going to keep the records of the week short and sweet. First up, a new reissue of the classic Japanese hardcore band Outo - Fragments of Outo, which compiles their tracks from several classic comps (and includes my fave recordings by them). I like cola!

Next up, sometimes ya just gotta chill out and listen to the Marine Girls - you must be mad b/w don't come back. Dreamy indie pop from these girls. Perfection.