Punk’s not dead
By: Mandy Keifetz
The Trashmen’s SURFIN’ BIRD
By: Joshua Glenn
Favorite proto-punk records, c. 1964–1973
By: Mike Watt
I saw the dils many times starting in 1977, driving up to hollywood from my pedro town to see gigs w/d boon and georgie.
By: Lynn Peril
“Love’s another sterile gift, another shit condition.”
By: Chelsey Johnson
In seventh grade, I flung myself into the social machine.
By: Vanessa Berry
If a sugar bag could be a punk accessory, anything could be.
By: David Smay
“She’s shaping my body like a lump of mud!”
By: Marc Weidenbaum
Resolute and dissolute, unrepentant and penitent, erotic and hermetic.
By: Tor Aarestad
“Please send me evenings and weekends.”
By: Deborah Wassertzug
Jerking between extreme closeup and wide-angle shots.
By: Anthony Miller
An exorcism of enmity beyond the bounds of decorum and rationality.
By: Gordon Dahlquist
“Are you lonely all needs catered/you got your brains dehydrated.”
A riveting racket which screams — yo, this shit is fucked up.
By: Adam McGovern
Just one day on which perhaps the arms could be laid down for good.
By: Miranda Mellis
“Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard…”