IVES L K
N U P
i features
features
16 Bookband
where to eat
30 Neo Punkism
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56 punks dead long live punk
We all grew up on punk
Reikarnasi
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NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS
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Against all authority
SHAwN BARBER
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product party
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40 brooke reidt
COVER: DC PHOTOGRAPHED BY: andrew campbell art direction & styling: Alex Valenzuela accessories: psylo, Johnny ramli, skin, beneath the roses 10
i publisher’s note
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editor s Note PUBLISHER WE SAT DOwN wITH THIS ISSUE AND KNEw wE wANTED TO wORK ON SOMETHING wITH GRIT, SPIT AND TOUGH ISSUES. PORTRAYING PUNK IN TODAYíS GENERATION BUT STAYING TRUE TO ITS ROOTS. DURING OUR SECOND PHOTOSHOOT I wAS DISCUSSING THE NEO PUNK THEME wITH ALBAR TIKAM. ìWHY NEO PUNK, wHEN PUNK IS PUNK?î HE ASKED. HE BROKE ME OUT OF THE GENERIC CLOUD I wAS IN FOR THE DAY FOCUSING ON FASHION wHEN ITíS NOT ABOUT THAT AT ALL. PUNK TODAY IS NOTHING NEw, ITíS THE SAME IDEOLOGY. AND PUNK IS STILL ALIVE AND THRIVING. COMMONALITY IN THOUGHTS AND BELIEF SYSTEMS DETERMINE THE IDEOLOGY THAT BRING PEOPLE TOGETHER AS A COMMUNITY. THEREíS A DESIRE AMONG PUNKS TO BOND AS A COMMUNITY, BUT THE FOUNDATIONS OF PUNK IDEOLOGY NEED REVISING YET STEEPED IN ITS ROOTS. PUNK IS THE PERSONAL EXPRESSION OF wHO YOU ARE TO THE CORE, YOUR EXPERIENCES GROwING UP, HOw YOU OVERCOME YOUR BATTLES AND APPRECIATE wHATíS GOOD AND TRUE. PUNK IS A MOVEMENT THATíS ANTI ESTABLISHMENT AND REFUSES TO SUCCUMB TO SOCIETIES wILLFUL IGNORANCE. PUNK IS A PROCESS OF QUESTIONING AUTHORITY AND THE COMMITMENT TO THINK FOR YOURSELF THEREFORE BY EXTRAPOLATION THERES POTENTIAL FOR SOCIAL PROGRESS. PUNK IS BELIEF TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS AND HONOR THE OUTCOME. THIS wORLD IS wHAT wE MAKE OF IT, TRUTH COMES FROM OUR UNDERSTANDING OF THE wAY THINGS ARE, NOT BLIND SUBMISSION TO PRESCRIPTIONS ABOUT THE wAY THINGS SHOULD BE. PUNK IS THE TRIUMPH OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT! ITíS IN EVERYONE BUT THE QUESTION IS wHETHER YOUR READY TO STAND UP FOR wHAT YOU BELIEVE INSTEAD OF PAYING LIP SERVICE TO IDEOLOGIES wITH NO ACTION AND FOLLOw THROUGH. YOU DONíT HAVE TO BE VIOLENT TO GET wHAT YOU wANT JUST COMPARTMENTALIZE YOUR EGO, STRATEGIZE, AND YEAH BE AGGRESSIVE. SO wHETHER YOUR SPUNKING, FUNKING OR PUNKING, ITS ALL THE SAME, LOCK IT DOWN! ALEX V
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(PT Mitra Mandiri Sempurna) andrew@wwmedia.asia REG. NO. 65/HK.HM/IV/BITD/2008 Andrew Campbell (andrew@wwmedia.asia) Creative director Alex Valenzuela GRAPHIC DESIGNER RACHEL MANTIRI PHOTOGRAPHER Handy Tamam administration manager ocha (traffic@wwmedia.asia) account manager ratu ayu . M (ratuayu.m@hotmail.com) DISTRIBUTION Adhi ketut sales enquiries andrew@wwmedia.asia p +62 813 375 73 471 Jl. DHYANA PURA NO. 5, Seminyak - bali P + 62 361 863 79 79 Views expressed are not necessarily those of the editor’s and publisher’s. All material copyright ©2008 PT. Mitra Mandiri Sempurna. The publisher will not be held responsible for copyright infringements on images supplied by advertisers and, or contributors. www.wwmedia.asia
i contributors
Contributors ANDREW, alex, TAMAM, rachel, Mariah, Lei ghton, Xante, Carolena, yeanne, Brooke
SPECIAL THANKS TO ALEX VALENZUELA Designer & Creative Director www.alexvalenzuela.com vvm - alex@valencevsmodulo.com YEANNE Make Up Artist +62 81805659595 www.yeanne.com MATA DEWA 66 +62 (361) 721177 www.matadewa66.com
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behind the scenes
i review
bookband Fishbone
The date was June 18, 1993, I was 14 and headed to my first festival- Lollapalooza. I was a bit of an introverted alternative music grunge fiend but also loved the intensity of early nineties industrial. Styled out with long bangs, flannel long sleeves and doc martins I was ready to rock it, or so I thought. The knot in my stomach pumped heavily of what Alice in Chains, Rage Against The Machine, Tool, Dinosaur Jr, and Sebadoh would sound like. Most of the bands exceeded expectations, but it was Fishbone that blew me the fuck away. The band came on stage to an ecstatic roar while Angelo Moore aka “Dr Madd Vibe” bounced around the stage with an epileptic break dance. Fishbone was like nothing that had ever been or came after. It sounded like eclectic mix of punk rock, ska, psychobilly funk, and soul. Next thing I know I’m being flung from my feet up onto a romping crowd and lo and behold my first crowd surfing experience. All I could think about was how I lost the pretty girl I was crushing on, her eyes and lips still intact in my minds eye. Shit I lost her, but what the fuck where are my shoes, nevermind why am I bleeding? The painful reality of getting elbowed in the nose set in. By this point I’m already twenty feet from the stage and I hear my name yelled out. ‘I’m coming to get you Alex”, my brother yells, on stage jumping arm and arm with Angelo and then lunges off stage towards me. He’s a big guy and some how manages to pile drive through the crowd to save 16
my dangling body. I wipe my bloody nose and out of adrenalin started fighting back. I was headfirst in the pit, along with the big brother to back me up. Angelo flailed around like a punk gypsy vagrant, singing the hits while we were throwing blows. I thought my rage was over, but next up was Rage Against the Machine so we sparred with the last pit of the day. Walking back to our camp as the sun set with so many emotions rushing through my body and all I could think about was “where is she?” By the time we reached our camp I took a double-take dumbfounded, to my elation she was standing there with a beer in one hand and the other extended towards me. I took her hand and walked to a nearby tree. We watched the sunset, kissed, listened to music and stared into the stars. To flex your shit, stand up and fight, blood stained t-shirt and get the girl in the end, in my book that’s pretty fucking punk rock. Fishbone, Big ups! Official site: http://www.fishbone.net
words Alex Valenzuela
i appetite
dining out BATTLE OF FLAVORS ACROSS THE REGION
Moo Moo's Steakhouse Bar & Grill
Oma THias Kitchen
It was previously the "Bali Aussie" which was well known,but was in need ofmajor renovations. We decided to bring an Australian Steak Concept to Legian, Bali, in a modern contemporary fit out. The whole restaurant has gone under a major face lift and it has created a casual and modern atmosphere, mood lighting creates the perfect setting for Breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Oma Tia’s Kitchen is a sweet little spot facing lush rice fields. It has a pit stop feel but you end up staying there longer than you might have thought. The food is delicious, it has nice service and you also get the family feel there, with Oma bopping around being kind and lovely. Be sure to try their Thai Beef salad, or the variety of pasta dishes, soups and sandwiches. Internet with a segredo coffee is a plus while enjoying the scenery.
Our fully stocked bar includes imported wine from NZ and Australia, local wines, cocktails, imported and local spirits, coldest beer in Bali, Segafredo coffee and full range of mocktails, juice and soft drink. Showing live sport every day and with our own line of merchandise for sale, Moo Moo's is the place to be. MOO MOO's STEAKHOUSE BAR & GRILL 69 Jl. Melasti, Legian – Kuta, 0821-4521 5791
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OMA THIAS KITCHEN Jalan Mertasari No.2 B and 2 C,Kerobokan - Kuta Utara, Denpasar, Indonesia, 0361-3670654
warung TauLAN
warung sobat
This new Japanese inspired warung seemed to sprout from nowhere. It’s located nicely in kerobokan, surrounded by rice fields and an assortment of floral arrangements. The food is presented well and tastes even better. The interior breathes nicely with ample feng shui waterfalls surrounding the whole restaurant. Its so easy to stay much longer than expected, in fact while your add it take a nap to the sound of waterfalls. This one is definitely soothing to the soul.
Warung Sobat Dua has great staff and great food ranging from Indonesian to European cuisines. After eating at Sobat a couple times you get hooked! The food is delicious and for the price it almost seems unbelievable. When ordering whomever your with make sure you each get a different dish to taste test. You’ll find your happily savoring a new dish each time you go.
WARUNG TAULAN +62 818 05440220
WARUNG SOBAT Jalan Batubelig, Seminyak – Bali,
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i shopping
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i scoop
neo punkism What are we looking at these days with punk fashion? Are we just fashion victims without the careless anarchistic disregard for society of our predecessors? Without doubt, neo-Punk fashion is more about fashion and less about the message. It’s in huge contrast to punk’s origins, which was all about driving a giant stake through the heart of the bigbrother’ish establishment created to control mass society. That’s not saying that all punks of the 70s and 80s had something of value to offer. Some were… well… just punks, busy messing up their own perceptions and role within society. Music was at the core of this; a way to make a statement by vomiting lyrics onto a classless crowd hungry for release through larges dosages of drugs, alcohol and hard music. From the complete anarchistic ways of the Sex Pistols to the anti-political lyrics of the Dead Kennedys, punk music has been the force in the fuck-you-antiestablishment movement since the early 70s and through the 80s. Neo Punk carries the fashion
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words Andrew Campbell
i scoop
statement albeit with a very watered down movement behind it. So, where is the anti-establishment punk movement? Does it exist anymore? Are kids just getting around in punk style while still watching MTV and thinking they are rebelling? Is neo-punk mainstream or does it have any counter-culture aspect to it? I mean come-on, the radical green movement has more balls than the current punk scene! On the other hand, it’s not like we should condone crazy Romper Stomper racial white supremacist shit going on in our society, that misses the point. Punk is about questioning every value we believe in, asking why governments do what they do, who do they represent, is your country letting you live the life you desire? It’s still the drugs and the loose lifestyle, yet punks aren’t getting locked up for misbehaving on live TV or being banned from selling and playing because of lyrics that slam the consumer ideology. In the mid-1980s to the early 1990s, various underground scenes either directly evolved from punk or at least applied its attitudes to new styles, in the process producing the alternative rock and indie scenes. Bands like Bad Religion and NoFx created a following of kids in old jeans, t-shirts with band artwork and trucker hats turned backwards. They were probably no less tough than their punk predecessors, but they were mainstream, a collective of homogenized rebels without a cause and a basic sense of fashion they believed to be a statement, but in actuality was more about the music genre than any message to the establishment. However, some bands were still fighting. Rage Against the Machine was totally anti-establishment and a heavy influence in the neo-punk music scene in the 90s. Their concerts were full energy anarchic mosh pits that had venue owners shitting themselves out of fear of riots after their shows. I am sure most of the crowd went back to their 9-5 day jobs the next day. A shitty hangover and a few bruises as a reminder to their participation in fucking up the system!
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One thing is for sure, neo-punk kids don’t get any less tough as we move through the decades. When it comes to street fighting, kids are as tough as ever. What’s happened is the image of punk’s sub-culture, and romantic fragments of punk’s ideology, have become totally mainstream. It’s totally counter to counter-culture. And they are weak as piss when it comes to standing up for any rights whatsoever unless it’s about getting bitches and makin’ money for nothing as MTV so heavily promotes. Perhaps if we look into the hip-hop scene we see traces of punkism. The fashion sense is not what we would call punk, but the attitude is definitely punk. There is a struggle, a need to fight, to stand up… Class, ethnicity, and the American dream all clash in the street culture. If punk’s core values are about making a statement and stirring the pot of social structure, Chuck D was punk to the core. And gangsters running around in baggy jeans, handguns, and careless disregard are also damn punk (with an elevated approach to personal hygiene and class positioning, of course!). Has hip-hop music and culture replaced punk’s traditionally underprivileged positioning? Our modern punk bands like Blink 182 for example have become totally mainstream and middle class. And why rebel when life is comfortable in the middle class? This could be true, especially in western developed countries, where life has become nurtured and the Nintendo powered indifference to what is going on in the world is rampant. Is there the need to speak out in seemingly open societies where it feels like we are free to, but in reality it has little effect. Government disregard for public opinion and super complex strategies of control allow for subversive sub-cultures to flourish far more than previously. So can anyone be blamed for lethargy? When you go out and make a statement without an audience, and when life is so comfortable, is it possible to rally the foot soldiers? Who wants to stick there neck and become ostracized? And on mass, as individuals, are we getting stronger or weaker and is this lethargy creating a heightened level of herd mentality? Are we herding or is that just an exterior illusion? We could be preparing for the progressive retreat into our own individuality, to a place where we feel less inclined to make a statement through our appearance and actions. The internal mechanics of our mind could be becoming the place where the antiestablishment war is waged. Fuck anarchy in the UK, try anarchy in the brain for true individualism. Neo-punk is a movement internally, a place to break down the socially adopted beliefs and start rebelling, becoming punk on yourself. It’s not about what you wear, it’s not about being nostalgic, it’s about drawing upon the way punk originated and applying that in the new age. Neo-punk is about continuing to throw away the nasty habits of blindly stumbling through life. You must make a challenge. Stand up. Become an individual. Rate yourself only against you. Be punk, be individual. 33
i portfolio
In todays art world, individuals who inspire a sense of what it means to be punk rock are few and far between. Shawn Barber is one of these people, and he’s got badass chops and skills to foot the bill. Barber has spent the past five years touring with conventions, parlors, and other artists itching for something different all the while amassing a huge following, with the epicenter in Los Angeles. His latest and ongoing series Tattooed Portraits - Snapshots is a visual powerhouse which documents the art of tattoo. What is profound about his work is not only the juiced up colorful use of oil paint, or the confident brush strokes, texture and drippage, its that his work goes beyond the mediums and techniques and brings the viewer into the hardcore ritual rollercoaster of tattoo art, its process in detailed succession, ink, blood, and the tools which make it all possible, all while honoring other artists along the way. The process ebbs and flows, the history of tattoo captures both eastern and western tattoo styles, the application is streamlined, and the artist has readily available bodies as canvas. The series, now accounting for more than 100 artist portraits, will feature new works of tattoo artists Scott Sylvia, Jeff Rassier, Steve Boltz, Dave Fox, Saluape Aisea, Mike Davis and several others.
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words alex valenzuela
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Brooke Reidt Pretty in Punk Brooke Reidt’s art is an antidote to the dis-ease so many of us feel living away from our birth communities and families in space or spirit, in far flung places, searching for a sense of being helpful to anyone, anywhere. In an industry characterized by aimless drifting on one side and murderous middle class teenage gang warfare of Tweeds Head, Australia on the other side, surf art must both express this pain and soothe it. It is a tall order, but Reidt does it, subtly, and in spades. Reidt splits her time between LA and Bali. She paints, from intricate complex pieces of human scale, to large abstract paintings and huge murals on concrete “screaming color.” Her process seems to uncover and reinterpret the natural world, and her work is at home in many difference ventures such as gallery work, non-for-profit, general badass pretty punkness such as Nylon magazine and Element clothing. Reidt also regularly donates her work to be used for greater good. Recently, she sold a painting in order to fund a 13-year-old girl’s trip to skateboard summer camp. Her work in Bali can be found lurking brilliantly around the corner on the walls of Ulutwatu warung city and Jiwa Juice of Bingin, as well as featured as the most recent Drifter Store campaign. Her work, as first glance, might invoke naturalistic, geometric, psychedelic references. “I begin a painting expressively, making intuitive marks until I see something. I share my vision by painting a fraction of what I see, then turn the painting around to gain new perspective. I’ll paint hints and turn again and repeat the process. This goes on and on until there are so many shapes, layers and something inside rings finished. I'm sure you can feel this energy in my more abstract work, the constant movement. Its like a game or map. Everyone can choose their own adventure.” Living in Bali has been a gift for Reidt. She explains, “Living in Bali rattles me up and shows me the true definition of art. It's so humbling watching women spend all day handcrafting offerings in gratitude of their gods, such a selfless activity that they probably don't even identify as art.” She has also used mural painting as a way to connect with the island, “If I wasn't painting huge murals people would just speed right by me, I love love love how art makes people slow down and connect. As much as it is therapy for myself it's necessary to share it. I'm so shy and terrified while painting murals because it makes you so vulnerable making mistakes in front of strangers but simultaneously it's blissful to make art that you can share publicly for free.” One of the central tenants of her art is to enjoy the best and let go of everything else, remembering that, “Nothing stays the same. There's always more out there, always room to grow. Not even a lifetime can define us.” But don’t worry, Reidt, we know that once a punk, always a punk. (www.brookereidt.com) 40
Words mariah ernst
AGaINST ALL AUTHORITY Photography: Andrew Campbell Styling: Alex V, Mariah Make Up: Julian for Yeanne Hair: James for Essensuals Models: DC, Claudia
DC: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Leather Braclet by Psylo, Braclet & Rings by Beneath the Roses, Belt by Skin, Claudia: Top & Pants by Religion, Shoes Model's own, Chain Necklace by Clutch, Studded Bracelet by Skin, Chain Bracelet by Bamboo Blonde, Rings by Clutch & Beneath the Roses
DC: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Leather Braclet by Psylo, Braclet & Rings by Beneath the Roses, Belt by Skin, Choker by Skin, Cross Necklace by Religion, Pants & Shoes Model's own. Claudia: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Top & Pants by Religion, Shoes Model's own, Studded Bracelet by Skin, Chain Bracelet by Bamboo Blonde, Spiked Bracelet by Clutch, Rings by Clutch & Beneath the Roses, Belt by Skin
Tyler Wears: Shirt & Goggles by Deus Fa Wears: Goggles by Jungle Tribe Harry Wears: Shirt by Vanguard All other items by O.E.
DC: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Leather Braclet by Psylo, Braclet & Rings by Beneath the Roses, Choker by Skin, Cross Necklace by Religion, Pants & Shoes Model's own. Claudia: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Top & Pants by Religion, Shoes Model's own, Studded Bracelet by Skin, Chain Bracelet by Bamboo Blonde, Spiked Bracelet by Clutch, Rings by Clutch & Beneath the Roses, Belt by Skin, Chained Necklace by Clutch
Tyler Wears: Sunglasses by Ray-Ban / Shoes by Vintage Deus Fa Wears: T-Shirt by Ozlem x Deus / Gloves & Helmet by Deus Harry Wears: Sunglasses by Ray-Ban / Shoes by Vintage Deus / Scarf by Gucci / Vest by Jungle Tribe All other items by O.E.
DC: Cotton Vest, Pants & Shoes Model's own, Leather Bracelet by Psylo, Belt by Skin, Bandana Stylist's own, Braclet & Rings by Beneath the Roses Claudia: Leather Bolero by VVM, Bracelets by Clutch & Skin, Chained necklace by Clutch, Tyler Wears: Rings & Vest by Jungle Tribe / Scarf by Gucci / Sunglasses by Ray-Ban Black Sequined Leotard Fa Wears: Sunglasses by Oroton by Religion, Black Shorts Harry Wears: Shirt by Vanguard / Sunglasses by Ray-Ban & Torn Leggings Model's own,All Shoes by Mogil other items by O.E.
DC: Pants Model's own, Leather Bracelet by Psylo, Necklaces by Religion, Beneath the Roses & VVM, Choker by Skin Claudia: Leather Bolero by VVM, TylerChained Wears: Necklace Jacket by Model's own / Boots by Deus by Fa Clutch, Wears:Torn AllLeggings items by O.E. Harry Wears: Boots Model's own, Rings by by Deus Clutch & Beneath the Roses
Claudia: Leather Jacket by Clutch, Top & Pants by Religion, Shoes Model's own, Studded Bracelet by Skin, Chain Bracelet Bamboo Blonde, Cast Shark-skin Tyler Wears: by Rings & Vest by Jungle Tribe / Scarf by Gucci / Sunglasses by Ray-Ban Bracelet by Clutch, Rings by by Clutch Fa Wears: Sunglasses Oroton& Beneath the Roses, Harry Shirt Necklace by Vanguard / Sunglasses by Ray-Ban Belt by Wears: Skin, Chained by Clutch All other items by O.E.
Tyler Wears: Jacket by Model's own / Boots by Deus Fa Wears: All items by O.E. Harry Wears: Boots by Deus
DC: Pants & Shoes Model's own, Leather Bracelet by Psylo, Belt by Ernte, Bandana Stylist's own, Rings by Beneath the Roses
DC: Vest, Pants & Shoes Model's own, Bandana Stylist's own, Claudia: Leather Bolero by VVM, Bracelets by Clutch & Skin, Chained necklace by Clutch, Black Sequined Leotard by Religion, Black Shorts & Torn Tyler Wears: Jacket by Model's own / Boots by Deus Leggings Fa Wears:Model's All items by O.E. own, Shoes by Mogil Harry Wears: Boots by Deus
i scoop
I USED TO MARVEL at the punks hanging out in Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts (or massive two tits, as some of the locals called it). They really favored that spot in front of the oh-so-proper Harvard University and I would regularly pass by these brightly-plumaged, ebullient but larcenous looking kids on my walk to work. That colorful and energetic collection of human jumpingjellybeans was a bizarre juxtaposition over the conservative, ivy-covered backdrop of the school. They loved being out there in the public eye, showing off to the world their spirit, which was brazenly expressed mainly through their choice of attire. Their style had a dangerous edge- all studded in spikes, ripped apart and finished off by these amazingly artistic sculpted arrangements on top of their heads. Their hair was their crowning glory and they spent hours on it. They looked pretty bad-ass too and I avoided any eye contact, just in case. They weren’t like say, ‘Hell’s Angels’ scary (a biker group with a street presence back then in the early 80s) but they did have a scrappy air about them. Safety pins jammed through their faces were a precursor to the tribal piercing trend would follow and take it even a step further. Even though I never actually saw them bothering anybody- they mainly just kept to themselves and their skateboards, their visual presence in such stark contrast to the surroundings was somehow contentious, confrontational.
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These kids were not the original punks though. The first ones took to the streets of London in the 70s and exuded a raw urgency born out of hard-scrabble lives, bleak futures and an acute discontentment with society. Those who started what would later become more of just a fashion trend (as all great movements seem to decay into) were a group of juvenile delinquents with heavy axes to grind, chips on their shoulders (and teeth) and a huge resentment towards and disdain for authority.
sure, but the implication of punk was decidedly present. I liked it.
They called police “The Filth” and with anarchy in their hearts wreaked havoc, venting their rage by instigating brawls just for fun. They had a taste for vandalism, harassment and gluesniffing. The latter was a consequence of widespread impoverishment which was a common ailment of common people in England at the time. Huffing glue was a very cheap high.
While living in New York City in the 2000s, I saw evidence of the further aberration from pure punk style. The new ‘lost boys’ hanging out on their skateboards in Union Square on 14th Street wore clothing that while still retaining a punky look, added newer elements with a touch of alternative aesthetic, baggier hip-hop influenced jeans and dark Goth hair. Gone was the raging attitude, replaced with an air of disenfranchised ennui. They were however, still shredded and chained. Although slightly different now, these were the new representatives of antidisestablishmentarianism. This is how that particular generation dressed to show their discontent and battle THEIR authorities.
I could definitely see the reason for the evolution of their unique hairstyles, as if those shocking neon colors were a logical extension of what was growing inside of their pissed-off, raging brains. During the mid-90s I observed my teenage nephew who was really just a regular kid. His hairstyle was an amalgamation stemming from different origins. I noted how his slightly long hair, cinched up into a high pony tail, was framed by the shaved sides of his head. Did he realize that his shaved temples were a direct reference to the mohawks originally sported by early punk-rockers? It was a much kinder, gentler morphing of the original version to be
But that’s how style goes, they take an element from this, an element from that and combine it. After all, there’s only a finite amount of truly original ideas. The punk style was distinctly and ferociously original, an unmitigated and uncompromising concept in it’s hey day. It was a very specific identity and each detail was executed down to a tee.
What is punk? I’m a punk. You’re a punk. If you prefer to skirt society’s accepted norm, you’re a punk. If you do things the hard way because you believe its right, you’re a punk. If you eschew convention and travel your own path, you are a punk. The original punks are old now, if they were
Words Carolena
lucky. Many are still choosing to swim against the tide, seeking their own course away from the drudgery of a life of the ‘Average Joe’. Doesn’t matter how old they are, they’re still punks. “Like me or don’t, I don’t care”- that’s the punk attitude. It’s a rebellious mind-set. You can tell everything by the music. Rock music in the late 70s early 80s was veering disgustingly away from the actual spirit of the original idea of shocking the parents, being raunchy and smashing barriers. When rock started to be recognized by the music business assholes (the ‘Suits’) as a real money-maker, the push for commercialism was on. This along with the presence of advancing recording studio techniques, the introduction of various musical gadgets and the incorporation of banks of synthesizers into rock caused the music to become overblown and complicated. Fed up with all that, the punks broke it down again. Three chords and extreme volume, that’s all they needed. Minimal. Raw. Deconstructed. No musical training necessarycome one, come all. Just fuckin’ turn it up, bang on a bass, a drum set and a guitar (synthesizers NOT welcome). Get someone to scream their head off and there you had it, the perfect punk rock band cocktail. They saved rock from eating itself. This deconstruction also obliterated the cheesy entertainer/audience mentality and spawned
stage-diving, moshing and the melding of band with watchers of the band, and brought back the true spirit of anarchy to music, the way it was supposed to be. Thanks, guys. LA is the home of designer jeans. People live in them there, even having the audacity to wear them to dine in up-scale restaurants (my black-clad New Yorker heart shudders). Looking to fit in with the culture there I shopped for a pair of great jeans and as I perused the collections of latest designs, I was surprised to find a myriad of carefully and strategically rips added into many versions of these outrageously expensive items. That mainstream incorporation of a punk theme was evidence of the lasting impact of punk fashion and showed that it is firmly planted in our collective unconsciousness. But the prices- really! I refused to pay the inflated amount to have someone else tear up my pants for me. Los Angeles is also the home of the ipso-fact president of the John Lydon Fan Club, Tequila Mockingbird. Formerly known as Johnny Rotten, Lydon was the singer for the ‘Sex Pistols’, the unchallenged creators of punk. I was fortunate to be befriended by Tequila during my 4-year stay in LA. An icon there, she is a life-long punk. Her fascination with and participation in the punk rock scene is legendary- actually even of mythic proportion, and began at the very beginning of the movement.
Now in her mid-50s, she is still a rebellious, fiercely independent-from-society, cursing, drinking, smoking, card -carrying PUNK. A queen of the punks. Because of her unwavering “Fuck-You” attitude her life has not been the easiest. An incredibly talented singer, the moment she would smell a rat on any of the numerous occasions she was courted by the music industry, she never hesitated a second before showing them her middle finger. It was a hindrance to her career and her financial security yes, but her commitment to never being an ass-kisser has afforded her the gift of being able to look in the mirror at someone who has stayed true to her principles and who gave no quarter to the establishment. I visited her one day at her small house off of Sunset Boulevard and she was online managing some of the fan club activities. She showed me an unusual clip of the former Johnny Rotten. It was a current television commercial in which he was the spokes-person for a brand of English butter… is that punk? Tequila still wears jeans and black t-shirts and might compliment her outfit with a spiky studded piece of jewelry or two, if she is in the mood. And it still looks very, very right on her. If she happens to feel like dressing in another way on another day, she’ll do that too. Now THAT’S truly punk.
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i scoop
PUNKS DEAD LONG LIVE PUNK so…where has all the punk rock gone? is it still here somewhere behind the candy coating of neo punk? is it waiting in the back somewhere for its sudden reemergence? is it dead? before we get too far into it lets make something perfectly clear. its not punk we are really talking about here. its about concepts. an idea who's time had come. it was a moment in time, just like any other explosive moment which defined an era. so when we say Punk from now on let us know that it is any and every thing that has happened which inspired a generation for a moment in time. even Elvis was Punk when he first came on stage and shook his hips. police were called in and parents banned their children from watching that dirty bastard gyrate seductively. Bob Dylan caused a famous mass walk out when he switched from folk to rock. Bethoven wore a safety pin in his nose and pooped in his shoe on stage. ok maybe not but he could have. Punks not dead. well, ya it is, but the idea of punk and those who were inspired by it it lives on in a dirty lil rat hole somewhere in the ghettos of our hearts. people by there very nature mutate what they focus on. in quantum mechanics (which is pretty punk rock, lets face it) it is believed that our reality changes when we focus on it. our mere observation on certain 56
particles changes their behavior. and with any thing we embrace we put a little of our influence into it. so Punk was Punk once upon a time and slowly it became something else as it was boiling for years in the mosh pit. it may have kept the same name but lets face it, if we really want to look at it the Ramones are nothing like the Sex Pistols. yet they are both Punk. or are they? nobody knows… or do they. no they don't (some might) listen folks… you gotta understand. there is no New punk. or rather, there is but its called Neo punk and isn't anything like original punk. once punk died a new generation took the leather jacket off the still warm body and put it on and created whatever it is that we see nowadays that calls itself punk. later when its time for that candy coated drivel to pass into the great unknown another generation will try on the jacket and create something new out of the ashes of the old. so really if you want to look at it punk itself came from something like protopunk or something, and before that it was maybe garage rock… before that, some other shit… dosen't matter. the point is if the Sex Pistols or the Ramones hadn't have become so popular it would have melted back into the shadows of the world where all unrecognized genius goes to sulk. but you see,
its not a bad thing that an era comes to an end. it needs to live fast and die young and leave a beautiful corpse or else it wont have the beautiful memory for the ones who remembered it in its all its glory. it gives inspiration to the new generation of those who inspire new greatness and breathe new life into old concepts. not only that but because life is speeding up at a break neck pace new music movements are being born and reaching their crescendos quicker and quicker blurring them all into a seamless cacophonic arc. when you look back down the arc you can follow all music back to the roots of all the music genres and sub genres that ever were. looking down the mighty trunk of the music tree from the branch of Punk you will see that it, like every other branch of music, comes from the same place. banging bones and rocks against a hollow log around a camp fire. some would even say that some music nowadays sounds just the same. but critics are a dime a dozen and should be ignored even if they are right like i am. you know what? no.. lets be honest with ourselves here. there is a minority of genus outcasts who rebel from the status quo and create an outlet to vent against the chains of normalcy. their voice, if clear, and the message, if universally understood will cause
Text & Artwork Leighton Kelley
a revolution and mutation in the masses to think act and dress themselves in the uniform of the new. weather it be a mohawk or a helmet the masses will bind together to create a movement. until, of course, there are too many for anyone to see where the center is any more. the death of a true movement begins when the status quo finally jumps on the bandwagon and you find yourself surrounded by weekend warriors and the message in the music that was once so clear and new is simplified and sold for mass appeal. when you see the underground scene paraded around with models on runways or on the pages of society magazines you can be assured the party is over. what kills a unique movement is the same thing that brings it to life. popularity. its all part of the process folks. its the life cycle of the cool. only when it dies young and leaves a beautiful corpse will it achieve a mystique that will surround it like a fine lacquer protecting it from the inevitability of becoming a joke. just ask Jimmy Hendrix or Picasso. let us kill our heros and build monuments! tear down mediocracy and build up edifices of inspiration and for the love of god, let us know when to call it a day.
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i scoop
We all Grew Up on Punk Simon Firth, in his book Performing Rites, asserted that in discussion of musical genre, "analysis must be, by aesthetic necessity, narrative analysis. It must refer to an implied community, to an implied romance, to an implied plot." So boy meets world. Boy gets fucked in the ass by classism. Boy rounds up his mates and they play punk. Punk was anti-classism, anti-war activism, anti-racism, antihomophobia, pro-veganism, pro-feminism, anti American foreign policy assholery, pro human rights, anti-corporatism, pro-youth, anti-capitalism, and pro nihilism. The final dream was anarchy, the kind of controlled anarchy that destroys inequality and oppression. Punk was a lot of things. When I was 13 to 14 years old I hung out with boys that drew the anarchy A on the back of their hands with a blue ballpoint pen during class. I died my long brown hair half teal. I went to a MXPX and Good Charlotte concert in the small lame city that was the focal point of my suburban hellhole hometown. I bought an album of punk covers of broadway show tunes, such as “Over the Rainbow.� Whether punk is dead or not, is moot. As the enfant terrible of rock n roll, it has been watered down, watered up, murdered, quartered by pop and poked at with a stick by angsty pubescents, then resurrected and made immortal through the miracle of fashion taxonomy, the ability of collective consciousness of fashion to string the dead corpse of a movement and make it dance, DANCE. 58
But one thing is for sure, it died too soon. Punk pushed antiestablishment into the mainstream, made it cool, and asked of the world only for those in control to relinquish power in the name of common justice. However, whatever one asks of the world, one must be willing to do in return. Mention the word misogyny and people scoff. Mention vegetarianism and people launch into a diatribe of why animals desire to be slaughtered and eaten. Mention homophobia and eyes glaze over. Mention racism and people defend their racist generalizations as mere fact. Those in power, whether it be the power of skin tone, the power of murder, the power of acceptable sexuality, or those born with the predilection to suppress the feminine, do not give up power easily. The must first realize that when they give it up, they get more in return. It is an act of faith. But these things will change slightly in our lifetime. Slowly, and without the help of punk. When I was 13 to 14 years old I was kind of angry. I was suppressed. I wore mainly square studded belts and ripped jeans sown together oddly. My friends drank, smoked cigarettes in the high school parking lot. We refused to go to church, ever, based on principle. One of us actually went to far as to take a shit on school grounds, for which they were sent home in a police vehicle. Our parents were annoying. Life was boring. Punk wasn’t a lifestyle or a political platform. It was an excuse. Girl met world. World was unchanged. Girl was bored. Girl got friends together and they listened to punk. World went on unchanged. Girl was never quite the same.
Words Mariah ernst Artwork brooke reidt
i scoop
Surf Punks Forever and God Save the Fucking Queen It was the early Eighties, my best friend Anna and I were gangly prepubescent girls kicking it up and down the Kings Road, as privileged children do, buying Fiorucci jeans and lunching in trendy bistros armed with Cartier wallets and 100 pound bills. We were on exit from our elite all girls boarding school and thrilled to have escaped to London if only for the weekend. We were being watched over by Anna’s large glamourous mother at their prestigious Chelsea address, 4 Upper Cheyne Row. The stuffed wallets were the parents’ compensation for their general lack of presence. We were counting the hours of precious freedom as convicted murderers might relish a stay of execution. For those who don’t know, the Kings Road is a two-mile stretch of hip boutiques running from up-market Chelsea to down market Fulham. On this particular unusually sunny Sunday afternoon it was alive and well with mainly badly dressed English shoppers and peppered here and there with a few deliciously pretentious continental fashionistas. There were also a number of rich housewives sporting Chanel, Hermes and Bulgari hand bags, bought on sale from Peter Jones, probably out for the weekly lunch with their cronies and remarking on their husband’s necessary, vital, absolutely-could-notmiss business weekend sponsored by Playboy. Anna and I gleaned these ugly domestic truths from eavesdropping on her mother and maid chatting in the kitchen, of which the Playboy business trips were a reality. Understandably we were already quite cynical. On this particular Sunday as Anna and I scuffed up and down the street we snuck glances at a few bad boys, alternately cruising and loitering. Handsome young Italian waiters effortlessly sprawled and smoked during cigarette breaks from overpriced pizzerias, smirking and 60
ogling the passing girls… delightfully that included us. A couple of gallant Irish Wolf Hounds were being herded along by a wooly sweatered aristocrat and fat rolling golden Labradors lead their owners out for a daily aperitif. And then there were the ‘yobo’ girls. Our understanding of the class war we were unwittingly engaged in was limited to whipping across the street at the first sight of their scowls and bomber jackets. Yobo was an unflattering English vernacular for working class girls who wore grimy leather jackets, short skirts in winter, smoked furiously and perpetually grimaced with occasional shrieks of humourless laughter. At least that’s how it seemed to Anna and me at our impressionable and judgmental age, but yobo girls did in fact scowl at us quite a bit. Our visible sense of entitlement understandably annoyed them. We were all living in the last of the golden days of the Kings Road, when shopping was still an almost innocent pastime before the English. Before consuming became the compulsive, cleverly coerced, self-hating, economy-driving force we know it as today, affectionately of course. When shops were just shops that sold things really. This was still a golden moment of marketing naiveté before the guards of consumerism got their sticky little fingers on the elegant neck of the Kings Road and quietly strangled it to death, replacing it with a sanitized mall. But that would be a few years later. Then the Kings Road was still a heaving fermenting pit of humanity well, one of those curious junctions where the haves and have-nots shared a communal territory. The only kind of place where social revolutions can be born and happily fester. On this day we had made our way to the irresistible, infamous landmark, The
Chelsea Drug Store. Then the Chelsea Drugstore was a large colorful three story glass fronted building squatting on the corner of the Kings Road and, originally a pharmacy, it had expanded over the years to sell it seemed everything: vinyl records, sex toys, marijuana smoking paraphernalia and more importantly to us, pins. Every on-the-ball teenage fashion magazine had been quite strident on the point that nothing defined a young girls identity more precisely or more powerfully than the right group of pins stuck nonchalantly on the chest of a denim jacket or blazer. Finally, our curiosity satiated and armed with Blondie pins we were making our way back towards Sloane Square and the more gentrified Chelsea area when we found ourselves at the corner of an alley and unexpectedly at an impasse with a group of terrifying looking home grown London punks. Tall and wiry, they lounged against the wall and observed us in silence. There are those memorable moments in a young life when we are moved out of innocence to somewhere altogether unfamiliar. Perhaps more than anything I observed, I was affected simply by their presence. The unacceptable truth that they were, as all the cast outs of society, an unwelcome window and an unwanted mirror to the lost and unacceptable parts of my carefully cordoned self- the universal, internally unwashed angry punk. Abandoned, it seemed, held in contempt, we thought, skulking in the shadowy alleys of our hidden selves, we surmised. Another denied reflection of humanity’s fractured perception of itself, its violent conviction in its contrived categories and invented subclasses. We stared at each other, at each others 'otherness.' It was the beginning of my growing awareness that my socially crafted, approved and validated sense of self was built, and tottered, precariously on nothing more than sophisticated sand.
words xante
Their uniform was fascinating, gruesome, ingeniously terrifying and throw-awaycool at the same time. Threatening steel capped boots, roughed up jeans thick and brittle with what one could only imagine, ripped t-shirts, black leather studded motorcycle jackets or shoddy black military style blazers. All deliciously stabbed to a bloody death with spikes and studs and pins and other various symbols of anarchy and violenceswastikas, inverted crosses, and all things blasphemous. One sported a t-shirt depicting the Queen on the loo. Directly above the heretical image was written 'GOD SAVE THE FUCKING QUEEN'. I recognized finely tuned anger when I saw it. The 'school girl' in me was shocked and appalled even but the burgeoning political rogue was aroused. I was struck by a potent odour. Urine, stale cigarettes and sweat and an unfamiliar sour smell I later realized to be the result of many weeks without washing. Not a whiff of 70’s disco cologne nor thank god a gaseous cloud of hippy patchouli. No. The English on their better days are not known for cleanliness, these fellows were resolute on this fine point. Their hair was shaved and cut in the infamous warrior Mohawk and where it didn’t stand on end it hung in greasy strands. Gone was the vanity of disco or rock star blow-dried hair. Parts of greenish-black tattoos creeped out of leather collars and sleeves. Gruesome thumb size safety pins stuck out at odd angles from the sides of mouths and noses, perhaps a little blood still caked on. Scabs and scars and acne pocked grey skin framed their red-rimmed eyes. My impression was of young men dangerous, malnourished, abandoned and inconsolable. A general expression of angry resignation worn into faces that probably stopped being sweet at age six. One thing was clear. None of them had been to a hairdresser, a body piercing professional or a trendy tattoo parlor. None of them ate salad. All of them did heroin. Theirs was not a lifestyle. This was not body adornment. This was selfmutilation. Any cafe psychologist can tell you that traumatized children helpless to use their anger to remove themselves from abusive and neglectful situations will often in their unheard despair turn that unchanneled anger, primarily against themselves and sometimes against things weaker than themselves in a futile attempt to recover their lost and precious sense of self and their vital sense of personal power.
Note to middle class American surf punks: you don’t look anything like them! In the late seventies England was an aging, crumbling has-been empire built on the pyramid scam of all empires: stealing from commodity rich, defenseless outer regions and in return letting only the barest minimum of profits trickle down to its armies of working class. England, then still deeply indebt to America from World War II and suffering a massive superiority/inferiority complex continued undercover to do what it did best: exploit its defenseless and voiceless. Right O, Bloody Good Old Chap and that sort of thing. Authentic punk, like the gang and prison cultures of the mid eighties in American cities and suburbs, was born out of economic despair and an atmosphere of cynicism and hopelessness. Not as spring is born fresh and vibrant but as a deformed, twisted runt might crawl out of its mothers dying, bloody body gasping and thrashing for precious life. The movement was a violent reaction to the often-invisible violence within the single mechanism of classicism, racism and sexism. The dirty, scruffy, angry fuckyou-ness of Punk was one way a painfully self-aware sub-class could voice itself in an invisibly gagged society. Of course neglect, abuse and helplessness, not to mention self-hatred and its accompanying antidote heroin, are not strangers to the economically privileged. Only a few years later Anna’s beautiful sister Louise would be found overdosed, her exquisite face recognizably burnt by the small electric fire she had fallen asleep in front of in an apartment just off the Kings Road. A few years after that my brother’s heart would stop momentarily in an ambulance not far from the Sunset Strip in LA, from one too many 'rocks' of crack. Punks, celebrities, the rich, the average, we were all, after all, the children of Empires. We were all casualties in the skirmishes of an ongoing war with nature, with each other, with our families and mostly with ourselves. Add a lack of selfacceptance to the human condition and you have a recipe for self-destruction, a strangely attractive addiction the darkness holds a special tempting familiarity, visible in the recent pop culture phenomena of eroticized and glorified vampires and before that, goth.
Two years after the run-in on Kings Road, Anna and I had been lunching at the Dome on Sunset, on her fathers credit card, and then had wandered down the Sunset Strip before we ran into our first LA surf punks. It was a bit of a shock. First of all they didnt smell of urine at all. Their clothes? Unstained, clean. Their hair? Neat mohawks fresh and springy, fragrant even. Their skin? Caramel coloured, smooth as river stones. Possibly moisturized. Their arms? Not wiry at all, well muscled, yummy! - These guys were milk fed. High protein diets and lots of exercise. The safety pins? Quite small. Carefully placed in their faintly feminine, neat, American noses. Personalities? Very friendly! Amiable, all American, quite chatty really… for punks at any rate. "Yeah we're punks," one of them reiterated. "Umm no," Anna said. "You’re not punks. You are candy floss." This sanitized, pretty, almost cuddly by comparison, version of punk and surf punk gave Anna and me a bit of a laugh but also deeper down, a bit of hope. The costume of punk presented a striking paradox - like the wolf dressed up as the grandmother in Little Red Riding Hood, the darkness often impersonates the light. (Yes children I’m afraid its true) For example, the true white collared villains of the world, and we don’t have to mention any names, have already coopted 'god' and all the angelic symbols for themselves- even the fucking peace sign has been co-opted by a VW advertizing campaign. What symbols and costumes are we the left with to mark ourselves as different from the 'enemy'? Sometimes it is necessary to dress up as the darkness itself. The repulsion and attraction that was universally felt to the painful truths that Punk so grossly expressed, and the accompanying glorious, twisted moment of freedom, was exhilarating. Punk in all its inconsolableness is a consoling reminder that truth doesn’t need defending. Like life-giving water, truth always eventually expresses itself, even if only to drip in green-black sludgy lines down the sides of freshly painted 'retail outlets' and corporate financial centers, and the whitened sepulchas, graves painted white to hide their decay, of our time.
i scoop
And like all attempts of the human spirit to define itself as free, the characters, the music and the 'fashion' of punk was, in a word... fuckinbrilliantmate! Addendum: Well this is a bit awkward.. Umm having said all that I have happened upon a few nasty facts and am now, forced by the ethics of the writers code, to completely ruin my dramatic ending and revise a couple of points. Rather like making a door slamming exit at the end of on argument and then slinking back in to retrieve ones keys. So... I was just having a chat with Roy. (Yes Roy Hay the creator and guitar player and songwriter of Culture Club. Ooh I do love dropping names!) We were casually swapping anecdotes and so forth, reminiscing ‘Oh remember the time... you and me and Bono slightly drunk playing miniature golf in Afghanistan... and we passed out somewhere around the 19th hole, yeah and when we woke up we were all wearing chipmunk outfits ...strange really...
"Well, when he put the Sex Pistols together in the early eighties he commercialized punk ...but what it was really...” "Yes? What?” Roy Hay was about to define the entire punk scene! “It was really a movement against progressive pompous rock bands like Yes and Genesis.” “Huh” I muttered intelligently. "Not a tragic class war then? Not a reaction of the great unwashed to the evil crumbling nasty, duplicitous, perfidious, conniving British Empire?” "Yeah yeah it was all that in the beginning, definitely, well actually I don’t know what that fourth adjective meant but probably, but there was much more to it... it developed"
You know... that sort of thing.
“Phew.” I’d lost interest in the whole punk history thing at this point and I was just worried about what my editor was going to say - fuck off you contradictory imbecile- that was one possibility, I was just grateful that my original premise did still hold some water.
And then at some point I mentioned I’d written a dazzling account of my take on punks in London and Los Angeles;
"Yeah" he continued "Actually it was a bi costal movement in New York and London at the same time."
"Oh," he said. "You know that George was one of the first punks?" (As in Boy George) "Umm no," I said slightly alarmed, thinking that my memories of George were about as contradictory of my description of a London punk as one could possibly get except for the heroin part.
“Reeeaally?” Ok now this totally fucked my 'Americans are pussies' agenda (very popular with the English and Australians... and the French and the Iraqis Iranians and....anyway) this new 'bicoastal' fact gave an uncalled for authenticity to American punk. I felt a bit stupid but oh well one can’t be right about everything. At least I’m damn good-looking!
"Um I thought you (culture club) were a bit later on. Weren’t the Neoromantics mid-eighties?" "Well the neoromantics came out of punk and you know Malcolm and Vivienne (Malcolm MacDowell and Vivienne Westwood - you can Google them I did) really created the punk scene out of his shop Sex on the Kings Road and George was part of that scene" "Oh shit,” I sputtered, now seriously alarmed, "So you mean Malcolm essentially invented punk? That utterly destroys my whole hypothesis of punk as an authentic anti-fashion, class war phenomena."
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Anyway Roy and I chatted for a while about Culture Club getting back together and going on tour next summer... what part of the tour I’d be meeting up with him blah blah blah. The last thing he said was “Look I don’t know who you are, how you got my number, or why you have been babbling nonsensically but please don’t me call again.” No I'm just joking Roy and I are bros no really. Note to editor; I wrote this on my iphone, in the middle of the night, sitting on a curb in the street of Bangkok, so give me a fucking break. Thanks, hope the rash has cleared up, Love Xante.
Not corporate owned department stores, 'retail outlets', franchises, disseminating homogenized 'product lines' with the verve Gerbils churned out propaganda and the SS printed fake money. (and reluctantly we passed up the opportunity to have our purchases delivered by the Flying Squad - sexy young women dressed in purple catsuits driving motorcycles - no I'm not joking but that’s another story) (Or in some cases where it includes men wearing women’s underwear there are other less lofty motivations but that’s another article) (I've never actually heard of a writers code but there should be one) It springs fourth from Sloane Square and borders on Belgravia and Knightsbridge in the east and ends thereabouts on the less than spectacular Putney Bridge. Our parents’ compensation for their general lack of presence. started imitating the genius, but evil, marketing strategies of America. I cried the last time I went back to the Kings road. It had died quietly during the late eighties and early nineties and a valued piece of my childhood had disappeared with it while I had been thoughtlessly giving all my attention to my new lovers- the Sunset Strip and Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles - like a wayward now remorseful lover I was too late. Anna when I saw her last refused to talk about the Kings Road save for a few bitter swear words. For those who knew the Kings Road it was an unmentionable sadness. (But somebody obviously made a fuck of a lot of money!) Even The Drug Store has since turned into a McDonalds. But lets not even talk about it. Oh and by the way a sad historical factStarbucks put their first London outlet on the Kings Road in 1999. I felt compelled, in pure revolutionary fashion to dash in, wearing a really cool Che Guevara rebel hat, and hurl a few blistering Marxist statements at them before ordering quite a yummy iced machiato. It’s a slightly known fact that Marx actually drank a lot of coffee ok a somewhat cynical innocence – I had to reconsider my first rule of writing – (no not that silly one about writing what you know- mine was much more advanced) don’t let the stupid little facts get in the way of my imagination (or my prejudices or agendas).
GOODY GUMDROPS @ Maja House, Bandung L.A. duo act Goody Gumdrops rocked Bandung's Urbanite event at the Maja house on the 10th of September. With the collision of DJ Cpenn's heavybass beats with Chris's in-your-face vocals, the whole set led you to climb into the epic buildups and climaxing beats and next shoving you off a cliff with the heaviest dubdrops. They've drawn the initially passive crowd to come "fucking forward" and "wake up" until it's metamorphosis into a tableclimbing, drink-spilling, JD-downing chaos. Eventually ending with a sick cover of rage against the machine's killing in the name which got the entire house moshing. So if you haven't checked them out already, do so at: twitter.com/GUMDROPSmusic & soundcloud.com/gumdrops
photos & Words Rachel Mantiri
i store scoop
reinkarnasi At i magazine store I phive
"FROM EVOLUTION TO REVOLUTION" Reinkarnasi Clothing are an Indonesian-based clothing brand producing a range of shirts, jeans and predominantly t-shirts with a heavy-metal, punk and rock music vision. their prints consists of graphics such as flaming guitars, rock icon references, and plenty of anarchic imagery. You can find thier headbanging range exclusively at the I-Magazine Store (aka PHIVE) in Seminyak. 66
Shop 5, Dhyana Pura
Never Mind The Bollocks Photography: Handy Tamam Art Direction & Styling: Alex Valenzuela Hair & Make-Up: Yeanne & Team Models (from left): Katie Stone, Karolina Vaisnoraite, Mariah Ernst
Page 01 Katie: Top By Tuesday Night Band Practice, Pants By V.V.M., Necklace By Johnny Ramli, Bracelet, Earrings & Rings By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Yaz Karolina: Top & Shorts By Religion, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Yaz Mariah: Jacket By Clutch, Top By Tuesday Night Band Practice, Bracelet By Yaz, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt, Shoes Model's Own Page 02: Katie: Top By Tahira, Bra Model's Own, Jeans By Religion, Shoes By Yaz, All Jewellery By Nipples Revolt Karolina: Top By Tahira, Bra Model's Own, Jeans By Yokii, Shoes By Yaz, All Jewellery By Nipples Revolt Mariah: Top By Tahira, Bra Model's Own, Black Necklace By Johnny Ramli, Gold Necklace By Dallas & Carlos, Bracelets Model's Own, Rings & Earrings By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Phillip Lim 3.1 Page 03: Mariah: Jacket By Tuesday Night Band Practice, Bra Model's Own, Jeans By Religion, Black Necklace By Johnny Ramli, Gold Necklace By Dallas & Carlos, Rings & Earrings By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Phillip Lim 3.1 Page 04 & 05: Karolina: Top By Tahira, Bra Model's Own, Jeans By Yokii, Shoes By Yaz, All Jewellery By Nipples Revolt Page 06: Katie: Top By Tuesday Night Band Practice, Pants By V.V.M., Necklace By Johnny Ramli, Bracelet, Earrings & Rings By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Yaz Karolina: Top & Shorts By Religion, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt, Shoes By Yaz Mariah: Bracelet By Yaz, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt Page 07: Karolina: Leather Jacket By Tuesday Night Band Practice, Leggings By Religion, Bra Model's Own, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt, Page 08: Katie: Bodysuit By Religion, Bra Model's Own, Necklace By Johnny Ramli, Jewellery By Nipples Revolt
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Religion Jalan Laksamana, Gg Kelapa Gading no1, Oberoi, Seminyak http://www.religionclothing.co.uk
La Plancha Double Six Beach, Kuta, (0361) 8900000 www.laplanchabali.com
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Simple Konsep Store Jl. Laksamana N.40 Oberoi, Seminyak (0361) 730393 http://sksbali.com/
La Barca Batu Belig Beach
Clutch LTD www.clutchltd.com
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CAFES, BARS, RESTAURANTS Blue Ocean Jalan Pantai Arjuna / Double Six, Legian Kaja, Kuta, (0361) 747 2308 www.blueoceanbali.com Chandi Restaurant Jl. Laksmana no 72 Seminyak (0361) 731 060 http://www.chandibali.com/ Hu'u Bar Jl. Petitenget (0361) 473 6443 www.huubali.com JP's Warung Jl. Dhyana Pura No 6, Seminyak, Bali (0361) 731-622 www.jps-warungclub.com Kudeta Jalan Kayu Aya No. 9 Seminyak Bali (0361) 73 6969 www.kudeta.net
PHOTOGRAPHY RENTAL Oktarent Jl. By Pass Ngurah Rai No. 361B Blanjong Sanur - Bali (0361)288316 www.oktarent.com Mata Dewa 66 Bounty Cruises Building Jalan Wisata Tirta 1 Pelabuhan Benoa - Bali (0361)721177 www.matadewa66.com
I MAGAZINE STOREI PHIVE Jl.Dhyana Pura No.5, Seminyak Bali, (0361) 863 79 79
Blamo http://www.blamotoys.com
Ernte www.erntefashionsystems.com Heist juz@freestyleworldwide.com I heard they eat cigarettes www.iheardtheyeatcigarettes.com Organized Crime www.organizedcrimeindustry.com Reinkarnasi reinkarnasi.indonesia@gmail.com Trigr www.trigrclothing.com VVM / Valence Vs Modulo www.valenceversusmodulo.com Yokii www.yokii.com.au
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DIRECTORY WHERE TO BUY I-MAGAZINE
RESTAURANT, CAFE
Viaipi jl. Legian 88, Kuta Bali.
Warung D'Sawah Jl. Raya Kerobokan Kelod No. 17 Swich Jl. Werkudara no.538 Legian Kuta Warung Ocha Daddy'Resto Jl. Raya Seminyak No. 52 Jl. Kartilka Plaza Depan bali Dinasty Hotel Ulu Jl. Labuan Sait 5B Pecatu Bukit The Corner Store Bali Jl. Laksamana Oberoi 10A Seminyak Lucky day Jl. Camplung Tanduk Seminyak Earth CafĂŠ Kuta Jl. Laksamana Oberoi 99 Seminyak DiJon Jl. Raya Simpang Siur Kuta Cosa Nostra Jl. Camplung Tanduk no.17 Moo Moo's Bar and Grill Seminyak Jalan melasti, Kuta, Indonesia Max Jl. Benesari Kuta Bali, indonesia
Beach Lounge Pro Surf Jl. Raya Pantai Kuta Bali
Single Fin Bluepoint
Deus Oberoi Jl. Laksmana No.3b Seminyak Bali
Marzano Deus Canggu Jl. Double Six Seminyak Kuta Bali Jl. Batu Mejan No.8 Canggu Bali Zula Jl.Camplung Tanduk No. 5 Seminyak Bali
SPA
Bestest CafĂŠ Jl. Dyana Pura no.101 Seminyak
RETAIL Drifter Jl. Raya Seminyak Skunky Jl. Raya Seminyak Bali Mogil Jl. Petitenget 888 X
Glo Spa Sanur Gopa Town Center Jl. Danau Poso 57 Glo Spa Kunti Kunti Plaza no 119 Seminyak Bali Cool Spa Jl. Kayu Cendana Seminyak Bali
OTHER LOCATIONS Canggu Deli Jl. Subak Sari Pantai Berawa Canggu I-Magazine Store Jl. Dyana Pura no.5 Seminyak
69 Slam It was cloudy windy morning in 2004 when Nic woke up and decided to create mayhem in his pants! Enough of his boring faded briefs ; time for a new generation of underwear featuring playful designs and cool sophistication. First thing first a name with a bit of spice to get things straightened out. 69SLAM now has underwear, swimwear and accessory lines for men, women and children with all products been designed by the energetic team in Bali. 2011 has seen 69SLAM introduce the environmentally friendly and ultra comfortable Bamboo boxer made from 68% bamboo. The moment you touch this product you just want to wear it with its soft texted and natural colours. This is the first eco-friendly product by the team at 69SLAM and word is that they are looking to develop it in the coming seasons There are now 8 69SLAM stores in Bali and product is sold in over 30 countries so check out www.69slam.com for more details. 80
i review
HOTSEAT
Riyoshi Upstairs There is not much sexier than eating raw sashimi off a naked body, back arched and toes pointed. Unfortunately that is not what goes on in the newly remodeled bar upstairs at Riyoshi, but it could happen shortly after leaving if you remember to ask for a doggie bag. The newly installed décor aligns perfectly with Seminyak kitsch, with weathered wooden boards and green splotches for lamps. The new bar manager, Fabio or Pierre or something, descended upon the blind reviewer immediately upon entry and graciously offered any sort of assistance. I happen to enjoy hospitable hosts, and this Jean-Luc fellow made sure we felt like Very Important Bar Flies. On this particular dark and stormy Monday night, the “world famous” (his surprisingly serious words) Riyoshi Jazz Quintet were playing. As if Riyoshi weren’t the perfect date spot already, the bar provides a place to get your date even more drunk with a new cocktail menu. Unfortunately, you would actually be able to hear him over the din of the Jazz music, unlike in the dining room where the stage is located, so the bar is someplace you would only be able to take someone you actually like, not just someone you want to eat sushi off. Hats off Hats off to Riyoshi for taking it up another notch. Instead of takeaway we’ll take another sake. Ryoshi Jl. Raya Seminyak 17, Bali - Indonesia. (0361) 731152 82