The Scenics Video Preview : First wave Toronto art punk from 1978 By Dale

During the first wave of punk rock in the mid-to-late ‘70s, there was already a subgenre splintering off, riding side-by-side with this new-fangled brand of rock’n’roll. These bands of the more art-inclined subgenre held their own—notably NYC’s Suicide, Television, Richard Hell And The Voidoids, and Talking Heads.

Summer 1976: cut northwest of NYC into Canada, almost eight hundred miles away to the city of Toronto. The meeting of two guys in their late teens sparked a band as worthy as their NYC contemporaries. That band is The Scenics.

This brand new video below features the 1978 track “I Killed Marx,” from their brand new collective release, In the Summer / The Scenics Studio Recordings 1977-78.

To check out other Scenics recordings, years of interesting history, and other recent going-ons, visit their website, or drop by and say hey to founding member Andy Meyers at his Facebook page:

–Designated Dale

How Razorcake Is Sort Of Made: A documentary

Matt Hart’s video handiwork takes you through the best part of zine making: picking up the finished product! 

Pro Tip: do plenty of stretching before loading and unloading an entire pallet of zines.

We consider it a bi-monthly zine workout. Enjoy!

Music by Chantey Hook – Underground (which you can buy right here!)

PS. Razorcake does not approve of the ads that appear in our videos. Razorcake does not pay YouTube for any services, nor has Razorcake monetized any of the videos that appear on our channel. The ads you see are inserted without our permission!

Issue #80 Anniversary Party Video Roundup By Genesis Bautista

The Razorcake Issue #80 Anniversary Party was held on May 31. Summer Vacation, DFMK, and Handski performed. There were readings by Bianca Barragan and Patrick O’Neil. Of course, all of this information can be found on the show flyer—the same flyer I stared at on the day of while I clutched my aching stomach and tried to be in close proximity of my bathroom.

I’ve gone to shows whilst sick (I apologize to anyone I might have infected at a show like this), so I was contemplating doing it again. I woke up that Saturday morning ready and excited to go to the party. I got ready for my big day ahead and heated up some left-over vegetables from the day before because I was too lazy to make a proper breakfast. That is when my gastrointestinal torture began…

As I took my last bite, I heard my stomach gurgling. It was that moment I realized the sheer horror of my left-over vegetable breakfast. Within seconds my stomach began to feel irritated, aching and gurgling for help. What had I just done to my stomach? What had I just done to my day? I couldn’t hold it. I rushed to the bathroom and knew I would be spending my night with my toilet.

The following hours were spent in my room lying on the floor, sweat dripping from my forehead, holding my guts, and dashing to the bathroom. What wrong had I done to cause this misfortune upon myself? Am I really so sick that I won’t even make it to the show tonight? I couldn’t bear the thought of missing the show. I told myself that the sickness wouldn’t stop me, that a little stomachache was nothing. I tried to hold to my resolve, but my intestines rumbled more and more, causing me to barricade myself in a toilet paper fortress. As eight thirty drew closer, I knew my illness had defeated me—that tonight would be a no-show kind of night. No live music, no interesting readings by interesting folks, no memories outside of the confinement of my home. I cursed my stomach sickness for my boringly ill night.

Thus, I wish I could write more than just the information on the flyer. I wish could write about how enthralling Bianca Barragan and Patrick O’Neil’s readings were. I wish I could describe in full detail how Summer Vacation took the stage, and got everyone to shout “I am a dirty little emo boy!” when they played “Vice City,”; how DFMK induced the crowd to mosh, and that one dude who attempted to crowd surf during their set; how Handski got the whole room to dance, and writhe frantically; how the whole place was musky and humid, and everywhere you turned you saw a sweat-drenched body—write about the gleeful smiles from the crowd that witnessed the adrenaline musical event. I wish I could detail the whole event in its epicness, instead of my stomach ordeal, but I would be bullshitting you, because I wasn’t there. Most of all, I wish I would have never eaten that bowl of left-over cooked vegetables. Damn you, zucchini, carrot, tomato, and corn mix breakfast.