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Lydia jams some of her 2015 obsessions and then some

MRR Radio #1481 • 11/29/15

Lydia goes solo, has a nervous breakdown revelation and decides to flee the country. ...

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MRR's first fest in almost a decade! Still Not Quiet on the Western Front fest ...

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MRR Radio #1480 • 11/22/15

Amelia, Amanda & John Khan bring you the very best in punk with the jingle ...

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Mollot (photo by Mackenzie Burgess)


“New Blood” is our weekly feature spotlighting new bands from around the world! See below for info ...

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RIP Dickie Hammond (with HDQ)

MRR Radio #1479 • 11/15/15

This week Matt and Lena play mostly new stuff they're digging, as well as a ...

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Threat by Example. An interview with Martin Sprouse by Martin Sorrondeguy.

October 6th, 2015 by

This originally ran in MRR #291/Aug ’07. The 25th Anniversary Issue which you can order here

All photos courtesy of Martin Sprouse.

OK, Martin, why don’t you start off by talking a little about yourself—tell me who you are and how you first got into punk.

My very first exposure to punk was in 1977. My next-door neighbor was an art student, and he became punk overnight—like crazy Sid Vicious punk—overnight. I had just seen something about punk on the news, and all of a sudden one day he shows up—he’s got a punk rock girlfriend, a Sid Vicious look head-to-toe, messy hair and spiked jacket and harnesses and boots—the whole Vivenne Westwood type of thing. They looked amazing, like the most outrageous thing in the world. He played some music for me; I didn’t understand it at all. I was just a skater kid, and I was just thinking, “That is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen.” But it was also cool, because he was the nicest guy in the world. This had to be ’77. So that was my first exposure, and I had a positive impression of it, but I didn’t understand it at all. It was just too crazy. And I was probably just a little too young to get into it, you know? Later on, when hardcore came out in the early ’80s, it all made sense. It was kind of connected through skateboarding. Punk and hardcore kind of fused for me, being young and in Southern California where everything was happening. It was like, “This is it!”



Where did you grow up?

San Diego.

You got into hardcore when hardcore pretty much started, so what was your first show? What was that experience like?

It was a local San Diego show, just San Diego punk bands.

Do you remember who played?

No. I remember seeing Black Flag early on, and that was life-changing. It was crazy. Southern California was really violent at the time, but we were young, so it all kind of made sense, but at the same time it was really sketched-out, you know? So it had this crazy energy, really exciting, really underground, really small, really young, youthful, violent. Rebellious in all the right ways. You know, when you get older, you over-think everything, everything’s theory and process. This was full-on energy, Southern California hardcore punk rock. It was scary too, but in a good way. It just defined you immediately. Everyone that you were friends with didn’t like you anymore, you know, because you were a “punk rock faggot.” I think that was my name for most of the rest of high school.

1984 Leading Edge crew

1984 Leading Edge crew

When did you start Leading Edge zine—how did that come about?

A couple of us who grew up together, we all got into punk and hardcore about the same time. It just sort of happened; it was very spontaneous. We weren’t really the fucked-up kinda kids, we were all skater kids. We didn’t really become the stereotypical early-’80s punk rock asshole guys. We immediately became friends with people that put on the shows, we started reading the little underground xeroxed fanzines, we became friends with the bands. It became a natural extension for us to do something. We’d go to LA and get these fanzines from all over the place and that’s how you’d learn about everything. So immediately, it was like, “We should do it,” once we started going to LA. We started Leading Edge in like ’82 or ’83. It was a while after we’d seen some shows. The first issue must have come out the summer of ’83.

Why did you do it?

Just to do our own thing. It was obvious to us…’cause San Diego had the military there, so a lot of punk guys were in the military, it had the violence, a lot of drugs, a lot of fuck-ups, y’know? It just had a bad reputation. There were a lot of fights in LA, but there were twice as many fights in San Diego. It just sucked. Out natural extinct was not to be a part of that. We didn’t want to be the stereotypical SD “Self-Destruct,” “Slow Death,” fight-starting, maybe shaved-head, junkie thug, beating everybody up. None of that had anything to do with us—but we liked the energy of the hardcore scene. There were also a lot of young hardcore bands that weren’t part of that; younger bands that weren’t doing stupid shit, but still playing really fucking great hardcore. They kind of identified with us and vice versa, and we started a fanzine that would represent that, while at the same time respect all the other stuff that was going on. I wasn’t just focused on skate punk or straight edge punk or positive punk, we were covering bands from all over.

84 interviewing Tim for L.I

84 interviewing Tim for L.I

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Blast From the Past: Xcentric Noise

August 4th, 2015 by

this ran originally in MRR #339

by Andy “Shesk” Thompson

I’m listening to the Beating the Meat LP from 1984 to get me self in the mood, but it really pisses me off every time I hear it… It was a great compilation, a culmination of the stuff I’d done to date, all the excitement of receiving the tapes, the tape-to-tape duplicating, the stupid sound effects, the letters, the DIY!! When I went into a studio with the quarter-inch tape to put it together (Angel Studios near Hull, with Steve Larkman the engineer — I’m sure he thought I was nuts), I paid about £240. I designed the cover and wanted to do the usual inner sleeve — since packaging was always well important and far more interesting and exciting than a two-track single in a plain sleeve — but I had no money and accepted an offer to release it…and was ripped off, struggled to get any copies, the cover was just turned orange and had no inner sleeve, it never looked or felt right — and yet sounded amazing! There was no communication and it took ages for me to get back my costs for the studio, which only happened because I knew the guy at the distributor Jungle Records and he felt guilty, ’cos he knew I was on a loser. I managed to get a few copies off him, too, but not many. I dunno how many were actually made or sold.

And for the record, I made nothing from Beating the Meat and was forever pissed off that all those years had been hijacked!! Just one of my many regrets, but at least it got the bands heard again around the world! Please have it for free (download via mediafire.com) ’cos I’m not re-releasing it, not that I ever got the master tape back anyhow. I’ll be happy you just at least hear all the bands on it, ’cos that’s all Xcentric Noise was about — trying to pass on some of the excitement I was feeling, spreading this amazing music with message and passion and screaming anger and everyone doing it yerself! It was just so energising….


shesk_oldI first got into punk about May ’77, the moment I first heard it. I was only fourteen years old, previously had liked T. Rex and Sparks and some Bowie. I remember going into school the day after seeing a newspaper with the Sex Pistols in it, and talking music with my mate Mu. He said, “You’d love punk — listen to John Peel.” Bang, it was instant — a real slap in the face. My tranny radio and the pillow were my friends for a few years after that, and definitely the best part of the day! I guess maybe I’d finally found somewhere I felt I could belong, somewhere outside the norm.

I grew up in Little Weighton, England — a village with no streetlights, pretty cut off from the world. I guess I didn’t fit in with the norm, a kinda loner but with friends, the weird one, and the only one really into punk down our way. But ’cos I played football pretty good, I didn’t get fucked around, just the piss-takes like normal. They never got punk rock! I just ended up doing stuff all the time in me room while always liking and supporting the underdog (Hull City / Norman Wisdom [RIP] / Newport County); I was anti-injustice, anti-apartheid and anti-poverty, and I hated pop music, disco and shit soft rock crap.

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Blast From the Past: Bum Kon

June 16th, 2015 by

This interview originally ran in MRR #305 which you can pick up from our back issues page here


I don’t know what it’s like now for kids growing up in this modern age—what with the internet, MySpace, mp3s, filesharing, YouTube, and whatever else—but back in my day (the ’90s) you found out about music from your friends. I’m talking about actual real-life in-person interactions (remember those?), or trading tapes through the mail. I’ve got a couple people whose taste in music I trust above all else, and when one of them whispers the name of a band, my ears instinctively perk up. That’s what happened when I heard, “Chris, do you know this group Bum Kon?” A little subsequent research told me they were an early Colorado hardcore band, that they had an EP from 1983 called Drunken Sex Sucks, and that they were named after a Korean policeman who went on a killing spree. Yeah, sounds like it could be cool… Now how do I track down a recording?

Fast-forward a few years, and I make my way out to San Francisco, where Maximum Rocknroll has a library of over 45,000 punk records. Bum Kon was one of the first I pulled out to tape—along with Raw Power Screams from the Gutter LP, Rattus WC Räjähtää LP, the Feederz Jesus EP, the Stalin Mushi LP, October Days 12″, and a couple other as-of-then un-reissued classics. I don’t know what I liked more about Bum Kon—the breakneck-speed blasts of adolescent hardcore punk fury, or the genius art on the cover of the EP.

I soon landed a job working at one of the few remaining major independent music distributors in the country here in SF, where among my co-workers was not only Andrew Murphy, former Denver resident and proprietor of the Colorado-centric Smooch Records, but Bob McDonald, former vocalist of the band Bum Kon. It was during the mastering process for Local Anesthetic, Andrew’s compilation of early Colorado punk singles, that the complete, unmastered, and largely unheard-since-1983 session for the EP turned up. I expected it to be good, but fuck… this thing needed to be released. Though a couple other labels were interested, Andrew’s Smooch imprint was the natural choice. I was thrilled when he asked if MRR wanted to co-release it! Now, with the complete 25-track 1983 recording session out on CD, and the vinyl version coming later this month, we thought it was the perfect time to do an article for the magazine.

Andrew and myself conducted the following interview with Bob McDonald and Johnny Meggitt in August of 2008. Besides doing vocals for Bum Kon throughout their entire career (the EP and two LPs) as well as the illustrious and infamous Bad Circus, Bob more recently sang for the band Mr. & Mr. & Mr. & Mr. Evil, and fronts Hank IV (LP out soon on Siltbreeze!). Johnny is also a veteran of the early Colorado hardcore scene, having been in Child Abuse, Acid Ranch, Brother Rat, and Bad Circus. He was also the vocalist of the now-defunct Subtractions, and currently plays in the Get Offs. We spoke about Bum Kon, their contemporaries in the Colorado scene at the time, Bob and Johnny’s experiences getting into punk in Denver, and quite a bit more. Just prior to the interview, the four of us watched an old video shot at a show in Fort Collins, CO, in 1984. The footage featured performances by Bum Kon, Acid Ranch, and Peace Core, and interviews with members of the band and the audience.

Introduction by Chris Hubbard.

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Relatos sobre la Escena Subterránea Peruana: Parte III

November 17th, 2014 by


Here is the Spanish-language version of part three of our three-part history “Notes on the Peruvian Underground.” This originally appeared in English in MRR #359. You can read part one in English in MRR #353 (parte uno en español aquí) and part two in English in MRR #356 (parte tres en español aquí).

Autor: shane g.g.
Traducción: Julio “el chibolo” Durán con aportes de P.J. Lucas

…Y luego viene un culo de otras huevadas

Hay tantas huevadas con las que podría seguir jodiéndolos que esto podría convertirse en una malacostumbre de ir contando historias sin parar y sin saber cuándo callarme. Sigo con ganas de empezar este último grupo de historias sobre la escena subterránea punk del Perú remarcando algo así como las diferencias esenciales entre las décadas de los 80, 90 y 2000, estableciendo una especie de división cronológica rigurosa entre un momento histórico y el siguiente, dibujar una línea clara en la arena temporal. ¡Los 80 fueron punk y hardcore y políticos! ¡Con los 90 llegó el grunge y esto llevó a un punk despolitizado! ¡A partir del 2000 hasta el presente surgen bandas indies y de fusión con mercados nicho para cada consumidor imaginable!

¿Pero saben qué? No es tan simple. No en Perú. Probablemente no lo sea en ninguna parte. La temporalidad es un asunto problemático. Y, de todos modos, las décadas y años y fechas son marcadores arbitrarios para señalar una diferencia histórica.

El noise y el grind y el crust core en Lima, por lo general, se asocian principalmente con los 90. Era una mancha de chiquillos (Leo Bacteria, Richard Nossar, Oscar Reátegui, José Morón) la que ayudó a formar estas mini-escenas. Pero lo hicieron solamente después de entrar en el “rock subterráneo” a fines de los 80 cuando ya había degenerado en facciones porosas de hardcore, punk, metal-crossover, y, por supuesto, de cholos, misios y pitucos. El resultado fueron varios proyectos noise: Atrofia Cerebral, MDA, Insumisión y Dios Hastío. Este último está aún activo y dejando sorda a la gente en mugrientos locales del centro de Lima. También hubo otras bandas más nuevas que surgieron con una combinación de influencias hardcore, punk y rock garage. Aeropajitas, Pateando tu Kara, Héroe Inocente y Manganzoides se impusieron como algunas de las favoritas en Lima en distintos puntos de los años 90. Todos ellos aún participan en tocadas de vez en cuando.


¿Eso significa que todas las bandas de los 80 están muertas? Pues casi. Algunas resistieron por un tiempo o hicieron retornos inesperados. G3 agregó un segundo guitarrista e hizo un giro evidente al grunge en los 90 básicamente hasta que se separaron en 2000, y luego Gabriel y Gonzalo empezaron Inyectores. Leusemia reapareció en 1995 con un nuevo álbum y ha seguido tocando desde entonces con distintos miembros. Los únicos miembros originales que han durado son Raúl Montañez y Daniel F., siendo este último uno de los pocos subtes de la generación más antigua que ha podido ganarse la vida tocando rock’n’roll sin tener que tener un trabajo formal (y uno de los resultados es que se ha hecho unos cuantos enemigos). Voz Propia debe ser una de las bandas activas con mayor continuidad que surgieron de la escena del rock subterráneo a mediados de los 80–acaban de lanzar su décimo larga duración, “The Game is Over” en 2011. Read the rest of this entry »

Relatos sobre la Movida Subterránea en Perú: Segunda Parte

November 10th, 2014 by


Here is the Spanish-language version of part two of our three-part history “Notes on the Peruvian Underground.” This originally appeared in English in MRR #356. You can read part one in English in MRR #353 (parte uno en español aquí) and part three in English in MRR #359 (parte tres en español aquí próximamente).

Autor: Shane “Gang” Greene*
Traducción: Julio “el chibolo” Durán con aportes de P.J. Lucas

No se trata solo de la música, hijos de puta

Se trata de los patas flacuchentos a los que les gusta poguear, pero que no pueden cachar; de las gorditas con pelo azul que les gusta tirar; del pituco huevonazo ovejita negra que busca la manera de cagarse en su papi banquero; del cholo bicho raro clase media al que le gusta la distorsión más que vestirse como bacán; de los lameculos introvertidos y las marimachas salidas del closet que te mandan a la mierda; de los ideológicamente descontentos; de los socialmente discapacitados; de los mentalmente inestables y de los materialmente detestables; de los retorcidos pero no precisamente idiotas. Tipos raros, maricones, borrachos y fumones. Así es, Dr. Allin, lo ha formulado usted muy bien, de verdad, muy bien. Y no olvidemos a los aburridos estudiantes de arte y futuros intelectuales.

Sabemos que el punk no se trata solo de la música. Se trata de este tipo de reuniones poco probables de gente desagradable que la música termina agrupando. Se trata de los misfits (con ‘m’ minúscula). El punk encuentra la manera de faltarle el respeto a las fronteras, incluso (o quizás, especialmente) cuando determinados punks comienzan a gobernar el inconformismo y se lo imponen a los recién llegados que andan desprevenidos. El punk va en busca de hogares destruidos y familias perfectamente equilibradas al mismo tiempo; busca personalidades al borde de la anti-socialidad y las coloca en la misma sala con los seres humanos más lindos y generosos que ofrecen todo su amor incondicional. No hay lugar al que uno vaya en donde no existan misfits. Extrañamente, tampoco existe un lugar específico en donde encontrarlos. Simplemente, aparecen; y el punk les ofrece un lenguaje, un contexto, un par de amigos: otro desadaptado que puede o no ser de confianza pero con el que puede ser chévere huevear un rato. Es todo un poco como en el cuento de Bartleby, ¿no? Preferiría no hacerlo, huevonazo…


Todo esto también es cierto para los punks que crecieron en la cloaca de mierda que era Lima durante las décadas tumultuosas del Perú de los 80s y 90s, en las que ser un desadaptado podía significar que te mataran, te arrestaran, te detuvieran o te metieran en cana. O que te obligaran a esconder la cabeza bajo la tierra. O que te hicieran pensar si era mejor hablar de paz en medio de la puta guerra. O buscar refugio en tu distrito residencial de clase alta, relativamente seguro, alejado de la masacre de miles de indios pobres y provincianos en el campo. Muchas decisiones que después tendrías que asumir. Yvivir cuestionándoselas o terminar como un muerto más. Muchas decisiones que, en realidad, no ofrecían opciones.

Es imposible ubicar una personalidad única, mucho menos un perfil simple de quién o qué es un “punk peruano”. Sí, surgen patrones estructurales mayores. Más gente de clase media y clase alta que gente de clase baja; más blancos o mestizos que indios; muchos más chicos que chicas. Y no hay duda de que el punk fue y sigue siendo casi completamente urbano; o que, hablando musicalmente, es profundamente Euro-Americano en la mayor parte de sus manifestaciones pasadas y presentes. De hecho, solo unas pocas bandas selectas (Del Pueblo o Seres Van de la década de los 80) estuvieron lo bastante inspirados para crear una nueva textura musical agregando instrumentos andinos o afroperuanos (quenas, zampoñas, charango, cajón) a ese género emergente llamado “rock subterráneo”. Batería, guitarra, bajo y un pata cantando con un micro. Ese es todavía el 1-2-3-4 del rock’n’roll casi a dondequiera que vayas.

Pero a pesar de todos estos factores estructurales, las personalidades punk son, en verdad, y de una manera fascinante, difíciles de definir. Como “un traje que no le queda a la persona para la que fue hecho” –la etimología de misfit avalada desde el Siglo XIX–, los punks peruanos no se adaptan bien a nuestras variables científico-sociales cuidadosamente modeladas. Sus pensamientos son demasiado irruptivos; sus actitudes, demasiado disruptivas. Quizás prestando atención a las posibilidades polisémicas de sus deshonrosos apodos podemos apenas aproximarnos a una descripción de su inadaptabilidad.


Está Leo Escoria, porque está ‘astalasuevas’, y también Leo Bacteria, porque era infecciosamente gracioso hasta que se suicidó (Que En Paz Sigas Jodiendo, Leo). También está Daniel F, porque es feo. Está Chiki, porque cuando era adolescente se parecía a Chiquidrácula, el personaje de la televisión mexicana de los 80. Está Loquillo porque, según dicen, es un loco de mierda, y el Negro Brunce, porque es negro y porque ‘Brunce’ es probablemente el apellido peruano más raro que haya existido. Está María T-ta porque le gusta mostrar las tetas en público y Támira porque es un poco tímida y artística (así que no necesita apodo). Está Mono Blanco, pero no tengo idea de por qué es un mono blanco, y Chancho Viejo porque, asumo, es un cerdo no tan joven. Está Sandro Dogma, más modesto que dogmático, pero con el valor necesario para llegar desde Lima hasta Nueva York sin un puto sello en su pasaporte. Están el Chato Víctor y el Chato (Inchaústegui), porque los dos son bajitos. Está el Gordo Gabriel y el Gordo Memo, porque, bueno, son recontra gordos. Está Pedro Tóxico porque es una linda persona que escribió esa letra hermosamente venenosa para el clásico de Sociedad de Mierda “Púdrete Pituco”. Está Boui (no Bowie) porque es alto, delgado y de piel clara, se tiñe el pelo de blanco, y se mete un culo de cocaína. Está Miguel Det (no Death) porque tiene una parte metal, otra parte punk, y todas las partes oscuras. Y porque, francamente, son palabras que no tienen sentido fonético desde otro punto de vista lingüístico, que se pierden al ser traducidas para el público gringo.

Es verdad. Hay un culo de misfits en el País de los Incas. Programen una visita; organicen un tour; sáquenle unas fotos a estos jodidos nativos que viven en la Cagada Ciudad de los Reyes. Read the rest of this entry »