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MRR Radio #1587 • 12/10/17

This week Matt pulls some rarities out of the vault to make the scums and punks drool. Intro song: STENGTE DØRER ...

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MRR Radio #1586 • 12/3/17

On this week's MRR Radio, Rob goes ballistic for late '70s and early '80s Bloodstains punk rock from around the ...

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Maximum Rocknroll #416 • Jan 2018

Another new year, another exciting issue of Maximum Rocknroll! MRR #416, our January 2018 issue, begins with a sad note as we ...

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"Who gives a fuck?"

MRR Radio #1585 • 11/26/17

“[...] Elvis gives them a short speech about the death pangs that humanity must go through in order to reach ...

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MRR Radio #1584 • 11/19/17

Another fuct up Rotten Ron and Horrrible Halitosis Punker Power Hour. Intro song: DRUGCHARGE - Husk Rotten Ron fucks it up so you ...

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MRR wants you as its next Coordinator!

December 20th, 2014 by

Maximum Rocknroll magazine is seeking a Distribution Coordinator. This is an unpaid, full-time volunteer position. MRR’s four coordinators live at MRR HQ rent-free. Distribution Coordinators are responsible for getting the magazines and our merch to stores, subscribers, and individuals around the world. To be a coordinator you must be able to work legally in the US, and you must keep a part-time (paying) job in addition to your MRR responsibilities. 

It’s not all work and no play, though. Being a coordinator is fun, fulfilling, and one of the best learning experiences you’ll ever have. But let’s show, not tell — here is the first column our newest coordinator Grace wrote for MRR, in issue #377. As a former coordinator myself, I actually got choked up reading Grace’s account of her first weeks in the wild world of MRR…

If you are interested in applying, please download the questionnaire at the end of this post.


I arrived in San Francisco on August 1st. It has been a whirlwind month, mostly filled with bright spots. New city, new start. Adjusting not to working from home but rather to living at work. I’m developing bits and pieces of a routine: I eat a whole avocado almost every single day, rifle through the Amoeba new arrivals at least four times a week, go running in Golden Gate Park as often as I can force myself to. Before print week started, I went surfing in Bolinas. We drove a VW bus through the cliffs of Marin and drank Tecates on the beach and I swam in the Pacific Ocean for the first time, next to a cormorant. Later that night I slept through my first earthquake. California, baby. I text friends in London before I fall asleep— they are waking up, starting new days before I am ending my old one. It all takes some getting used to but slowly this place will start to feel like home.

I knew some people in the Bay before I moved here: from the tour where I booked the Philly show for their band, or that time we crossed paths at a fest, or the internet (ugh). A friend I have known since the first grade moved out here to go to medical school, arriving just a few days before I did. He came by the house to do shitwork my second or so weekend here. He’d never listened to a punk record in his life but he knows the alphabet, so we put him to work re-filing 7”s. Every so often he’d pull out a record and ask, “Is this good?” Our response was always, “Put it on!” He was working on the Gs that day—Generacion Suicida has won a new fan. Later that night he ordered a subscription to the magazine.

It was amazing to see someone interacting with our collection in that way, a potent reminder of the fact that there is no better place in the world to learn about punk and hardcore than inside this house, even for those of us who know a thing or two about it. I try to listen to something I’ve never heard before every single day—with 47,000 records and counting, there’s no excuse not to. I am filling up tapes and adding to my want lists and exploring the corners of punk that I always meant to get to and those that I didn’t even know existed. The archive is daunting—more than once since I’ve been here, a band has walked in to tour the compound and been absolutely baffled when faced with so much choice, unable to remember what kind of music they even like. Too many records, not enough time.

Hours alone can be hard to come by in a house with keys held by so many, and it took a few weeks before I was able to have a night to myself. For all the music I am excited to discover, there is still something to be said for the old reliables, the records that you know inside out, yet still sometimes feel as if you are hearing for the first time. I ate some tacos and drank lukewarm leftover coffee and cranked Rocket to Russia and did a kitchen mosh to Blitz singles and listened to the Sex Pistols and Los Punk Rockers back to back and tried to figure out what to call this column.

If you’re are reading this, you already know that we famously have Tim Yo to thank for the green tape that edges all of our records. You probably also know that he made handmade sleeves for records that he really liked or whose art he thought was subpar. Encountering those on the shelves somehow still continues to feel like stumbling across a secret. The collages have a surprising tactility to them, a layer of crisp, yellowing shellac overtop the images. I was sitting alone in the house, thinking of my former homes in Philadelphia and London and Washington, DC, and I kept going to pull more comforting records off of the shelves, and over and over the ones I took down happened to have Tim’s covers: the Raincoats’ Fairytale in the Supermarket, Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Hong Kong Garden, the Neo Boys EP, the Teddy and the Frat Girls 7”. Every single one of our records has green tape around its edges, but only a tiny fraction have these handmade sleeves and I was somehow being magnetically drawn to them. They say Tim haunts this house—I believe it now. I took it as a sign of sorts. This column takes its name from the last song on that Teddy and the Frat Girls 7”, one of the most demented records ever made, the product of maniac teen girl punks who then disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve loved this record for a long time. I scanned the insert, collaged some letters on top, drank a beer, and listened to these mutant sounds at top volume alone in our big kitchen. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long while.

I’m not some Teddy and the Frat Girls superfan (is it even possible to be a superfan of a band that only ever recorded five nearly unlistenable songs?). What I am a superfan of is the idea of that band: people who make psychotic, deranged, angry music because they have to, not because it’s cool, who make sounds that aren’t like anything we’ve ever heard before, the noises that come out of genius girl brains across time and space.

I spent the month of July squatting a spare room in Peckham in London, in the flat of this magazine’s Bryony Beynon, my soul sister extraordinaire. A much needed holiday and a mentally and emotionally rejuvenating trip. We each tore through the Viv Albertine autobiography in a little less than twenty-four hours, rabidly reading in silence in the middle of a horrible heat wave. We raced to the finish, because there was so much to talk about once we were done. In her column this month, Bryony writes about the way Viv captures female friendships so accurately, how the sounds of the Slits could only have emerged from the electric connections between those four badly behaved women. It really is an extraordinary text and should be out in the States this fall. Get it. Viv also talks about living through London in ’77, about the idea that many who were there then felt as if they had been a part of something so great and so exciting that they would never be able to capture that kind of dynamism and momentum ever again, about how that feeling probably factored into her decision to put down her guitar for decades after the end of the Slits. This magazine also casts a long shadow. It’s hard not to constantly think about history here in the compound. There are reminders of it everywhere: Tim’s handmade record sleeves, the magazine covers plastered to the walls, the photobooth strips of coordinators past and present stuck to the fridge, the still overflowing green-taped mailbox labeled Bruce Roehrs. Through accidents of timing I crossed paths with almost all of the women who have coordinated this publication in the past during my first month here—I can only hope that one day I am as effortlessly cool and brilliant as all of them. There are big personalities here, but this place is bigger than any of us. How do you make room for history in your life while also making history make room for you? I’m figuring it out.

We at Maximum owe a lot to our past, but the only reason we’re still around is because of a persistent insistence on the here and now. The thing that makes this magazine so great is that it is a publication written by the people it is written for. It has always been that way. MRR is what you make it, which means that history is ours to write. Punk’s not dead unless we kill it. Remember that we wanna hear from you about what is going on in your town: send us a report on punk fashions (The Dangly Earring: Who Wore It Best?), email us a drawing that we can put on a pin or a sticker, interview your favorite band and ask them questions that aren’t “what do you play?” and “how did you meet?” and “tell us a little bit about your songwriting process,” burrow deep into their brains and show the rest of us what makes them tick and why that makes you tick in turn. Keep sending your records in for review, so that we can ruin them with green tape and they can enter the vast and magnificent archive we have here, and make your friends do the same. Shitwork for us from afar! Did you already spot all of the misplaced commas and typos that we missed on these inky pages? Save us from ourselves as a proofreader! Can you type a mile a minute? Transcribe the soon-to-be classic interviews languishing in iPhone Voice Memo apps. Offer to do some sick layouts. Take out an ad for your beret emporium, send us some money so that we can put those damn records in poly bags and keep them from sticking to themselves, renew your subscription so that your bathroom can always be full of the best reading material for visiting punks taking a shit. This is your magazine and I am psyched to be here. Survived the first month. Ready for many more. Write to me and tell me what record I should pull off the shelf and listen to, post me a tape of the most deranged lady punks from your town, send love notes, hate mail, questions and concerns to

If coordinating MRR sounds like the life for you, write to  for an application.

Video of the Week! Distorted: Reflections on Early Sydney Punk

December 17th, 2014 by


This month’s Maximum Rocknroll magazine features an interview with Des Devlin, the filmmaker behind the documentary Distorted: Reflections on Early Sydney Punk. Before you roll your eyes expecting yet another punk retrospective featuring career punk “spokesmen” telling you how cool everything was before you were around, give this film a look. Shown from the perspective of people involved in building a scene almost from scratch in the late ’70s, the documentary is subtle, sometimes slow-paced, but very moving and inspiring. This is not the story of a “cool” or legendary scene, but one that feels like it could have been anywhere (anywhere but London/New York/Los Angeles, that is) and could’ve taken place in any subsequent decade. Distorted presents a collage of different kinds of people who, for whatever reason, found a community  in punk, and were compelled to create something to contribute the scene. The aspect of the film that might be the most inspirational is the way everyone in it, as well as the filmmaker himself, seems to have stuck with the punk ethos to varying degrees after all these years. They are people you’d like to hang out with and hear more from, not just about the old days but about art, politics and life in general.

There are many quotable pieces in Distorted, but we were especially chuffed with this portion — which happens to mention MRR founder Tim Yohannan — the story behind the title of the great Rocks EP, You’r So Boring…

The complete film, Distorted: Reflections on Early Sydney Punk, is available to download for free at distorteddocumentary.weebly.com. Read the in-depth interview with filmmaker Des Devlin in MRR #380.

Brontez Purnell and Janelle Hessig present The Cruising Diaries!

July 4th, 2014 by


Well, I don’t know where you’ve been hiding if you’ve never heard of Brontez — Bay Area scene celebrity, creator of the great Fag School zine, mastermind behind punk/power-pop (power-punk?) sensations Younger Lovers, and of course his stint as columnist in Maximum Rocknroll magazine!

And Janelle Hessig‘s list of credentials is too long for the attention span of — well, me — but let me just name drop the essential Tales of Blarg zine, editor of MRR‘s classic Punk Comics Issues (not to mention her conributions to our Punk Comics Blog) and a zillion great bands like the Tourettes, Panty Raid, Baby Jail, and most recently the Wet Spots.

Put these two hilarious and creative geniuses together and you know you have some next level wizard magic. Enter their upcoming collaborative book, The Cruising Diaries. Described as “a collection of writer/musician Brontez Purnell’s various sexual follies and misadventures around ’00s Oakland. Taco truck blowjobs, ‘shrooms, Santa – everything you could want from an illustrated sex memoir and much, much more,” you know this is going to be some laugh-out-loud madness like you’ve never seen before. Just check out this very  NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK preview video:

Pre-order the book from Janelle’s gimmeaction.com

“ADULTS ONLY! (Eat shit, babies!)”

And if you’re in the Bay Area on Sept. 12, 2014, don’t miss the book launch party and BBQ at Oakland’s 1-2-3-4 Go! Records.

Video of the Week: St. Ripper Knife Comb!

February 13th, 2014 by

Hey, it’s not too late to order your ltd. ed. Knife Comb, and it’s never too late to enjoy this amazing “infomercial” made by Boston punx ST. RIPPER. Komb sales benefit the band’s upcoming tour, and the video benefits punx everywhere. A++!


May 24th, 2012 by

San Franciscans, you are in for a treat! Happening now through June 23rd at the Luggage Store Gallery and other venues around the City is a huge art show — nay, art experience — curated by drummer, street artist, writer, and punk mainstay Erick Lyle, along with renowned SF artists Chris Johanson and Kal Spelletich. Streetopia, which opened on May 18th, features over 132 artists, performers, writers, filmmakers, activists, thinkers, and public policy makers to address the show’s themes of Utopian aspiration for the city.

Bill Daniel's evolving photo exhibit about SF's Mission Bay — now at the Luggage Store Gallery

There are too many awesome events to mention, so you should check out the full schedule on the show’s website. Some highlights include “Planting Trees in the City and Tree Giveaway” with the great fanzine editor, artist, and graffiti writer Joey Alone at the Tenderloin National Forest on May 27th. In “The Uses of Market Street” on May 29th writers and historians Chris Carlsson and Erick Lyle retrace the path of countless demonstrations, working-class parades, queer celebrations, bombings, and more on SF’s main drag. On June 5th award-winning investigative journalist (and punk rocker!) A.C. Thompson presents “Muckraking For Anyone” in which he lays out the basics of investigating government agencies, corporations, and individuals, and helps you figure out how to research any subject that intrigues you. Fans of legendary SF punk band HICKEY will not want to miss The Matty Luv Tapes on June 17th where you can help finish some of the Matty Luv’s incomplete songs. And on closing night, BIG BOYS‘ guitarist Tim Kerr and friends present “Freedom” where (again) you can join legendary punk musician and artist, Tim Kerr for a group performance of his musical piece “Freedom” and see  SF-exile bands BLACK RAINBOW, SUN FOOT, SHELLSHAG, and other surprise guests.

Find out all the deets at streetopiasf.com

Don’t miss out! Tell your friends! Go early, go often, before it’s too late… Then — go start your own Utopia!