“We can’t overthrow the government, but we can take care of each other. It can be political and joyful.”–Dani, Dry Socket

Cover by Jessee Zeroxed
Cover photo by Albert Licano

Dry Socket interview by Sean Arenas

Let me make one thing clear: shit isn’t good in this country. We have a lunatic for a president, armed bootlickers abducting children off our streets, and innocent people being shot in broad daylight. When things feel most dire, I always turn to punk by playing the records that keep me inspired and catching up with like-minded friends at shows. Something is reassuring about a room full of pissed-off people coming together to find joy in their rage. Portland’s Dry Socket knows this intimately.

Formed in 2018 as a “weekend band,” by their own admission, Dry Socket has since grown into one of the most lauded hardcore acts around. That didn’t happen by accident. The five members earned that reputation by paying their dues in countless other bands, booking shows for years, and writing relentlessly ripping songs. More importantly, as machismo and bigoted bullshit have begun creeping back into the scene, Dry Socket is here to put knuckleheads in their place.

They’re unapologetic about what they stand for, pointing a raised middle finger at racist, transphobic, and sexist assholes—both in power and on our stages. As they put it themselves: “Tired of being scared / Exhausted by their hate / No longer living to appease and placate / Their muzzle is a slow death.”
Dry Socket refuses to be muzzled.

Cigarette Camp interview by Sanden Totten

Cigarette Camp is a miracle.
Musically, it’s a miracle how fantastic their songs are. It’s the same formula we’ve all adored for decades now. Four chords, fast drums, ragged singing, and punchy hooks. And yet it feels fresh and urgent, like you’re hearing punk for the first time again. All while being catchier than the flu.

But the fact that the band exists at all is also a miracle. In 2020, guitarist and songwriter Jeff Poot practically died. He was found unconscious in his car, parked with the motor running. He’d been there for hours. Jeff suffered a serious brain injury and had half his skull removed. Doctors literally called him a miracle man for pulling through. He had to relearn everything from walking to eating… to sleeping. And somehow, after all that, Jeff started a new band and came back with one of the strongest albums of the year. A lot of their songs grapple with Jeff’s recovery, but other songs are just rippers about stuff like punk houses, getting records in the mail, and shitty landlords.

If you know Jeff, you know he’s a force in the Boston scene. He’s been in great bands like Witches With Dicks, Brain Killer, Sunshine Ward, and many others. He’s also a zine maker and photocopy savant. For Cigarette Camp he teamed up with Uncontrollable Frank (Orange Whip, Ancient Filth, Funeral Cone) on bass and drummers Keith Henderson (Shorebirds) and later Jamie McBaby (Awful Man). So far they’ve released three EPs, a cassette, and their debut LP Steps.

John Curry interview by Gabriel Hart and Lisa Fancher
(The Flyboys, The Plugz, Flesh Eaters)
Play Fast, Bright Clothes, Jump Around

My first encounter with The Flyboys was sometime in the early ’90s at Underdog Records (owned by Mike Lohrman of The Stitches), where we hung out all day as teenagers. Among the rare records high up on the wall—all of them too expensive for us to casually afford—was The Flyboys 12” EP, the first release on Frontier Records that had somehow evaded our awareness. Its bright red and blue cover with silhouetted warplanes remained a mysterious relic staring down at us, until we finally asked to hear it on the store’s turntable. I remember being instantly transfixed by its manic jackhammer rhythm in tandem with pop sheen. Songs like “I Couldn’t Tell,” with delicate harmonies colliding with their pummeling buzzsaw riffs, others with space-age synths driving mini-epics like “Picture Perfect.” Like a lost band that seemed destined for the infamous Beach Blvd. compilation with their brother band The Crowd, but perhaps zigzagging too erratically to be captured into any regional scene.

Despite us being second or third wave punkers, The Flyboys somehow felt like our own personal discovery. But because it was the pre-internet era with no easy way to find any details about them, we’d just ask our friend to climb up there and put the record on every time we came in, until those seven songs became part of our collective DNA. Eventually we found out they were the same band backing up Chris D. on the scorching debut Flesh Eaters 7” (another rare record we revered), so John “Jon Boy” Curry and his crew became cemented as essentials to our gang. And although The Flyboys were mainstays at clubs like The Masque and The Hong Kong Café in the late ’70s, they were one of those bands that got pulled under history’s riptides because of oddly timed happenstance, internecine sabotage, or cliquey associations (or lack thereof).

Three years ago, I met John Curry by fateful accident, really. I’d been having breakfast with him and a dozen other recently transplanted artists every Friday at our high desert coffee klatch for months before he and I got to genuinely connect, before I first got to say, “Oh, you’re that John Curry!” and hatched a genuine friendship. I soon found out he had a brief stint in The Plugz as well, co-writing one of my favorite songs from that era, “Better Luck.” Last year he let me know Frontier Records would be reissuing their discography The Complete Flyboys 1978-1980 on April 10, 2026, and I appointed it my duty to sit down with him and Lisa Fancher of Frontier to shed proper light on a particularly underrated band of the original (and even pre-) L.A. punk era. –Gabriel Hart

John Reis Part III interview by Todd Taylor and Jim Ruland.

Although it may not seem like it from my previous two introductions to John Reis, I’m not a nostalgic person. Far from it. I’m still striving towards a better world. We sure as fuck aren’t there now and I don’t yearn to return to a previous time. Sure, I’ve had my share of good times. I’m just not actively trying to re-create them in a futile attempt to recapture a “golden era.” I’ve seen too many people fossilize, become uptight, stop searching, and rope burn themselves for holding onto the past as it slips through their fingers.

There are bands I love and admire, who I grew up in punk in tandem with, but it’s hard to go see them live because they haven’t released any new music in over a decade. It’s tough for me because the punk I love isn’t just a commodity. A vehicle to fill up fests. A soundtrack to alcohol sales and overpriced parking. Glorified karaoke with a prewritten script and wardrobe. Continued creativity is a prerequisite for me. Your mileage may vary.

It’s just that I’ve spent almost thirty years constantly listening to John’s music. It’s not diminishing returns, watching a candle slowly extinguish, fooling myself that the puddle of wax is still a wildfire of creativity. I still make fun of dirty hippies yearning for a day that’s been dead for a long time. I don’t want to be a hypocrite.

I find it incredible that I’m still high-rotating Time to Let You Down, Swami And The Bed Of Nails’ 2025 LP, as much as I did when I first heard Circa: Now! in 1993.Let that soak in and absorb a little bit. How many musicians have more than five LPs in them that aren’t shameful at the end of the run, where it’s instantly recognizable as them, and their fire’s still burning unexpected holes in your ears? It’s a rarified place, especially in punk, where the narrative is often, “Their first 7” ruled. They sucked hard after that.” It’s like zines, in a sense. Pretty much anyone can do one. Or a handful. And I applaud the effort, but let’s see how you’re doing when you’ve released your hundredth. When you’re no longer shiny. No longer young. No longer novel.

In this third and final installment of the interview Jim and I did with John, we cover the end of the Hot Snakes, how Drive Like Jehu deciphered their music for a classically trained organist for a free outdoor reunion concert, the runs of The Night Marchers and The Sultans, and the rebirth of Rocket From the Crypt, thanks to a… kid’s show? We also talk about the unexpected death of Rick Froberg. The unparalleled grief and pain of losing a lifelong musical partner, the lingering effects of COVID still felt today, and John’s bold agreement to my assertion of him being the GG Allin of ketchup, mustard, and relish. –Todd Taylor

One Punk’s Guide to Volunteering at an Animal Shelter
By Jennifer Federico

Throughout the time I’ve been volunteering at Los Angeles city animal shelters, I’ve realized a lot of people have no idea how they work or what happens inside them. This is understandable. If you’re not engaged, how would you know? I have no detailed knowledge of how a food pantry works, other than a general concept, for example. You don’t know until you know.
Nonetheless, when talking to people, or being on the receiving end of their anger, I’m frustrated with some of the misconceptions and straight up falsehoods that people carry with them—and, unfortunately, spread—related to animal shelters.

Although I’ve been volunteering in Los Angeles, California for eight years and volunteered in Oakland for a year before I moved down here, these are the only places where I’ve volunteered at an animal shelter. Things might be very different in other cities, states, and countries. I’m only sharing information about Los Angeles and can’t speak for how things work in other places, although I suspect there are some similarities in other shelters in the U.S.

“Empathy is not a finite resource. We all have extra space within our hearts and minds to criticize every detail and empathize with the people caught within this violent machine.” –Donna Ramone (instagram)

“We were angry about this unnecessary war of aggression, but we were united in our dissent.” –Jim Ruland (instagram)

“I’ve built a web, not a pedestal. And webs are actually more resilient.”–Lorde Destroyer

“Progress isn’t inevitable…, Every victory has to be defended.” –Sean Carswell (instagram)

“That feeling of NYYYYAAAAARRRRGHHHHH I LOST MY FUCKING BUTTON always packs pretty much the same emotional wallop.”–Rev. Nørb (instagram)

Wars of distraction with a sleight of hand and a Napoleon complex. –Art Fuentes (instagram)

“Will the punk rock shows in 2076 look like the polka festivals today?... this punk rock thing just keeps on spitting out great bands.” –Rhythm Chicken (instagram)

“Taking in new information, reflecting on it, and updating your worldview is how emotionally mature people behave.”–Willow

“If I could’ve summoned a truly honest response to my life as an eighth-grade outcast, I would have woken up every morning and punched my dad in the face.” –Molly McCloy (website)


And photos from the lovely and talented:

Chris Boarts Larson

Mari Tamura

Albert Licano

This issue is dedicated to memories of Racimo, Lucy, and Squeakers