Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine

Record Reviews

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

| 0-9| A| B| C| D| E| F| G| H| I| J| K| L| M |

| N| O| P| Q| R| S| T| U| V| W| X| Y| Z|

Below are some recently posted reviews.

RSS Feed

Split: 7” EP
Wow, Acts Of Sedition rip! They’re definitely influenced by bands like Tragedy, but are certainly no clone band. While Acts Of Sedition are heavy and can hit hard with a good riff, they’re also wise enough to write songs that are tuneful and dynamic in movement. Perhaps it’s the Bay Area influence as well? Either way, two really good songs on here. On the other side, we have Sadville... Erm.... A bit of a joykill after Acts Of Sedition. They dip their toe in black metal musically, but lack the sinister darkness and ferocity. In the end, it’s an overindulgent mess. –Matt Average (Inkblot)

It’s Gonna Get Ugly: LP
One 7”, a split 7”, a track on a compilation, and now an LP that some are claiming to be the best record of the year. In the short period of time that the Shorebirds were a band, they definitely produced some great music that not only sounds great but is also quite the testament to doing things yourself. Many people may have initially sought them out on the merits of their previous bands, but there is no denying that their catalog of songs stands on its own in both originality and quality. As for this particular slab of wax, if you haven’t been paying attention and I’m sure most people know, there’re some pretty hard times ahead and this LP is playing over the house speakers of the collapse. Highly conceptual while still being poppy and rocking; it’s hard for a band to go out on a higher note.  –Daryl Gussin (Rumbletowne)

Self-titled: 7”
The sides of this record should have been reversed, since the A-side consists of two generic, predictable, sub-Problematics-esque tunes that blow past the threshold of the mundane into the realm of the banal. They’re fast and loud and not over soon enough. The B-side, while not breaking any new musical ground, has a much more memorable melody and rocks in a manner more closely resembling the Dead Boys. The chorus is sticky and snotty, with a message everyone can relate to: “Get out of my house, get out of my bed, get out of my sight/Get out of my heart, get out of my head, get out of my life.” Fuck, I’ve listened to “Get Out” at least seven times in a row now, and it gets better each time. Beautiful in its simplicity, simple in its execution, and exactly the kind of song one needs to hear post-breakup. It’s a goddamn punk masterpiece. High recommendation solely on the basis of “Get Out.” Also comes with a download card so you can put these three songs on your computer.  –benke (Big Neck)

Self-titled: LP
When I hear some jackass saying, “There’s no political punk anymore,” I just wanna punch the douche. Granted, there are less shrill, blunt political songs asking Phyllis Schaffley to “ram it up her cunt” (The Dead Kennedys said it; I’m just quoting.) nowadays, but I think this is a good thing. Why? Because I find no shortage of smart folks taking stock of their lives and looking at pictures much bigger than they are—from the neighborhoods they live in, to the national political scene, to the glaciers melting (all which The Shaking Hands deal with), but it’s all wrapped together into a seamless burrito of life. It’s one big log. Feeling like absolute shit is directly tied in with a dickhead running the country with regressive policies. And this makes the songs more timeless than being so literal and making a song called, say, “Sarah Palin Would Look Great with a Moose Cock Moustache,” that has its place fixed in such a short period of relevant time. (Quick, who was Phyllis Schaffley?) So, I put the Shaking Hands in the same gruff-voiced, anthemic vein of No Truth Lies and Watson, with some distant echoes of the Beltones in the background. Powerful, motivating songs that sing about a life looked at fully, and, often, achingly, in a subtle way that doesn’t need to separate daily life from political statements.  –todd (ADD / Kiss Of Death)

You Can Steal the Riffs, But You Can’t Steal the Talent: CD
For me, the reason for reviewing handfuls of bands that I’ve never heard of or listened to before doesn’t simply lie in creating a dialogue about underground music, but in the search to uncover new material that should warrant attention that it wouldn’t necessarily normally receive. After about a dozen samples, I’ve finally found my first band of this kind. Playing agile power pop/pop punk that’s got a little bit of a mid-’90s indie rock vibe to it, the Geniuses pull out some seriously fantastic guitar intros that sound buoyant and fresh, evoking a nostalgia for something I can’t place right now. Most of the songs tend to be crowded with gang vocals at the end, which can get a little repetitive track after track, but would probably work to fine effect in getting crowds riled up at a show. My only real gripe is the vocals that resemble a more nasal and high-pitched version of The Loved Ones’ Dave Hause’s singing. Make the vocals a bit more sparse and lower-pitched and let the sound on this awesome album run the show.  –Reyan Ali (Kiss Of Death)

Sight of All Light: CD EP
Sunshine is finally mine/Everything’s going to be okay.” Sounds like Shirley Temple optimism, right? Blinders on. Denial in full effect. But Sight of All Light is a different enchilada altogether. Intense pop tunes played through clenched teeth. Trying to convince yourself that it’s all good but knowing otherwise. These songs are heavy and dark. They feel like that The Safes are venting and purging. Sight of All Light captures the same tone that’s come into my head every time I’ve thought about national politics in the last eight years, only with guitars. I hope the Safes come back to the pop side on their next record, but this is a really good departure.  –Mike Faloon (O’Brothers, www.thesafes.com)

Anarchy in the UV: CD
Wow, long has it been since I’ve heard this band. What you get here is part one of a two-part retrospective of this long-running U.K. peace punk/goth band, founded in 1979 by one cat from Flux Of Pink Indians, two of Vi Subversa’s kids, and a woman named Zillah, whose preference for day-glo is responsible for that color scheme’s existence in some factions of the gloom’n’doom set. The tunes here come from the Ballet Bag tape, the Ballet Dance EP, the At Last It’s Playtime LP and the Money Talks 12”, plus two unreleased tracks. Though a good chunk of this is nearly thirty years old, their Siouxsie-meets-Crass sound is still as catchy as ever, and too much of the subject matter covered is still painfully relevant. Though my prior exposure to ’em was a bit limited, I’ve always had a soft spot for this band, so it’s nice to revisit, to get a better feel for their output, and I can’t wait for the second part of this retrospective to come out. Seeing as they’re apparently still alive and kicking, hopefully some new material is also being worked on.  –jimmy (Overground)

Infected: CD
Ripsnorter has spent many years bloodying their knuckles for the honor of the horror punk genre. Why do they do it? Are they sick? Are they masochists, secretly getting off on pouring their glistening guts out on self-released discs and in front of feeble crowds in dirty dives? Why do all of these horror punk bands do this to themselves? In Ripsnorter’s case, it’s obvious. They do it because they love it. That love comes through in songs like “Infected,” in which the victim of a zombie bite begs for a bullet through the brain. The scenario isn’t simply played up for shock value. Like all good horror, the focus is on the emotions. You can hear the narrator’s conflict, asking to end a life not lived to the fullest in order to prevent him from putting anyone else in the same position he’s in. Here’s hoping Ripsnorter keeps waving the horror punk banner well past the impending zombie apocalypse.  –mp (R.I.P., www.ripsnorter.com)

International Losers: CD
Rich White Males: Q: What if Olga from the Toy Dolls was American and started a pop punk band and they sounded really good? A: Rich White Males. Cummies: A bit of polish here, a touch-up there, make your singer stop impersonating Ben Weasel, and you have yourself a pretty good band.  –Bryan Static (Punk n Junk)

Split : CD
ROTPM play anthemic, lightning-fast hardcore punk that crams lots of builds, bridges, hooks, and breakdowns into songs that fall just shy of ninety seconds. The Fractions do two songs of fun-loving punk with swingin’ ska guitars, and a third song that has horns and sounds like Snuff. The cover photos of a guy in a horse mask fighting a guy in a Dalmatian mask made me laugh. Both bands are from Manchester, U.K.  –CT Terry (TNS)

Paradise Found: CD
It’s quite coincidental that this band is called Reflected, because what we’ve got here is a bunch of narcissistic, phony-ass, whiny, emo, poonhound punk played by a bunch of Hungarians. Do they even have malls in Hungary? –Craven (World)

Perception Becomes Reality: 7”
The reason I picked this out of the box of records at ‘Cake HQ was the note accompanying it that, among other things, said, “Total late-era Black Flag style hardcore.” I enjoy latter day Black Flag, almost to the point of being an apologist. (For the record, I prefer In My Head to The First Four Years—not that I dislike The First Four. Still, I’d take Damaged over either of them, especially if “T.V. Party” wasn’t on it.) That aside, I must say that, while Rational Animals do make definite nods to late-era Black Flag, they don’t encapsulate that sound and feeling. First, RA are too fast and too hard to get that comparison from me, though, like I said, they do make definite nods here and there. Second, RA seem more like they’re entering into psychosis. BF seemed like they were past the psychotic breakdown, like they were full-blown menacing, maniacal lunatics at that point. RA’s songs, lyrically, deal with anxiety and how to interpret the world around them. Later BF never came across that linear to me. They were always beyond insanity, like a bunch of turd-juggling weirdos. So, while I find the comparison to be faulty, I don’t find that these kids (who are just out of high school) are bad at their craft—far from it, actually. If I were to compare them to BF, I would say that this is what you might have hoped for BF to become. That is if you were dissatisfied with latter day BF, which I am not.  –Vincent Battilana (Feral Kid, crotchrotrecords@gmail.com)

Chug a Lug: 7” EP
There’s a simple version of this review: if you like late ‘60s bubblegum pop—Archies, 1910 Fruitgum Co., and the like—you’re going to like this record. There’s also a director’s cut of this review: the Rantouls are a side project from Gavin May, singer/bassist from the Fevers. The man is a pop genius. He knows what he loves and his records never miss the mark. The Rantouls sound a lot like the Fevers and that’s as it should be. We don’t want to hear his ska/metal fusion project. We want him to continue reinterpreting the Buddah Records catalog.  –Mike Faloon (Chocolate Covered)

In the mid-to-late ‘90s, there was a resurgence of dirty, hyper-driven blues-based rock’n’roll. And with any unexpected tsunami where money is to be made, the suddenness of its appearance made it somewhat difficult to initially separate the gold diggers from the true shakers. I put the Quadrajets in league with the BellRays and Zen Guerilla. Their sets weren’t based on theatrics as much as catharsis, wasn’t so much lip-puckery strut as maniacal involvement with their instruments. They didn’t have pleads of “testify” for the audience to be believers in what was being lightning-bolted from the stage. This CD is a collection of many of their early Sympathy, Estrus, and Arkam singles. These fine fellows from the South channeled the molten rocks of punk through the forlorn loss of blues, and their music’s well worth keeping in print and remembering. A high water mark of the genre, for sure.  –todd (Arkam)

This Is Real: CD
The best NYHC I’ve heard in years! And these guys are from Australia! There’s no metal posturing, or pussy emo singing breaks. Just pure, unadulterated NYHC style that hits like a sledgehammer between your eyes! Chunky guitar sound, solid bass, thundering drums, and a vocalist who yells from the gut. The songs move moderately quick with breakdowns, time changes, and gang choruses. All the elements required that makes this style exciting. Fantastic album the whole way through.  –Matt Average (Pee)

Kill Them before They Eat: CD
I can recall back in the early ‘80s when the split first developed between the negative punks and the positive punks. Since I had already done some serious time living-fast-and-nearly-dying-young, I decided to throw my lot in with the positive punks. Yet I found that I had some rebellious urge that would not let me fully embrace total positivity. I found that I had to have my negative punk reprieve from time to time to keep my sanity and my sense of fun intact. In the mid-to-late ‘90s The Prostitutes rallied my negative punk excitement level better than any other band of that time period. They managed to craft a handful of classics that still scorch my soul every time I listen to them. After breaking up in their originating city of Harrisburg, PA, Kevin Prostitute has started up a new Prostitutes in Long Beach. This new album definitely sounds like The Prostitutes of old. It is slightly more polished-sounding than their older recordings but not enough to put anyone off. Kevin’s pissed-off snarl still carries this music head and shoulders above other bands that I hear mining this same sound and vibe. The best comparison I have for this band might be The Pagans. I’ve listened to this album many times and I don’t hear any weak tracks. Of course, I’m also looking for something that singes me the way that “Teenage Girls” and “22” did eleven or twelve years ago and, right now, this album’s “They’re All Dead” is totally doing that for me.  –chris (May Cause Dizziness, www.mcdrecords.com)

Variations: CD
Initial’s normal year offers about one decent release—this year offers two with the forthcoming Guilt collection and Black Cross’ Widows Bloody Widows compilation. Paulson thus presents an interesting problem because, while it’s better than normal Initial fare like the Harkonen release which came out earlier this year and the Ultimate Fakebook record which was really completely unnecessary, it isn’t even close to the awe-inspiring sonic brutality of Black Cross. Paulson veers between skittering drumbeats which wouldn’t sound out of place on a jazzy jungle 12”, moody keyboard-driven atmospheric music which cribs from Three Mile Pilot / Black Heart Procession and unusual electronic effects which fill in the gaps between post-core riffing and attempts at more experimental fare. Ultimately, this record sounds like it was made by a band that had too many musical and stylistic ideas to blend and wanted to try to do too many different and irreconcilable things at the same time. While this is a criticism of sorts, it is—at worst—a gentle one because at least Paulson is attempting to do something that is creative, somewhat innovative, and unexpected. That is something to be praised, not scolded, particularly considering how many bands seem to take the easy, three-chord path out of the muse’s woods. –scott (Initial)

Idiot Nation: CD

Dr. Strange has the uncanny knack of picking out older bands from the brink of obscurity and releasing top notch material that stands up to their classics. The Partisans are a perfect example. Formed in 1978 by fourteen-year-old kids and English label mates with the newly formed Blitz, the Partisans sounded like an amalgamation of the Professionals, Sex Pistols, Peter and the Test Tube Babies, the Buzzcocks, and most obviously, The Clash. Their first album, self-titled, came out in 1983 (It’s been re-released as Police Story.) The summer of ‘84 saw their second LP, Time Was Right. Then, pow, aside from reissues, nothing until they self-released an EP in 2002. The only strange thing that happened in the interim is that the bassist, Dave Parsons, went on to form Transvision Vamp, then joined Bush, of all bands. 2004’s Idiot Nation pulls it off right. No stutter steps. Nothing tentative. Their roots are solidly in place (it’s punk, not an assy form or new wave or a cringing version of metal), and they don’t sound like geezers with their eyes on a brass check. This record sounds like ‘77 well spring punk. Great melodies, singalongs, and appropriate amounts of coarseness and abrasions. All in all, an extremely satisfying listen. How the hell does Dr. Strange keep doing this?

–todd (Dr. Strange)

To the Nines: CD
A new all-star hybrid has been created. Russ Rankin of Good Riddance fame searches for an outlet to express himself when an impending hiatus of his band is imminent. He first finds a taker in Aaron Dalbec of the band Bane. There is the first guitarist. Next, the brothers, Zach and Donivan, from Hagfish add another guitarist and bassist. So while a band is being created, Russ has a conversation with Bill Stevenson about his project. Biff, bam, boom! He is interested and now the project is complete with the addition of Bill on drums. I was apprehensive of this record at first. High expectations can taint the first listen. So I held back for awhile before listening. On first listen, this band sounds very similar to later period Good Riddance. I was expecting more of a metal, hardcore sound from the guitars. But, the thought here is more of a Black Flag meets Bl’ast! sound that Good Riddance was gravitating to. Heavy, without going into the trappings of playing metal. If you pay attention to drumming in recordings, the drumming is amazing. Bill is a banger, and at the same time, a technician. The rest of the band has the sound of a band playing together for many years even though they have been together for less than one. My thinking is now that Good Riddance is no more, this new band will carry on, leaving no regrets for the demise of its past music. –don (Fat)

The Volunteers: CD
Well, Jade Tree finally stopped sending advance releases and started sending totally thrashed promo copies. For the life of me, I couldn’t get the liner notes out of the digipak… but that’s okay, because the tray in the digipak was shattered anyway. I consider these things to be fucking shames because I actually like this. It’s nothing fancy, nor is it new. It’s just well done, introspective, melodic indie rock which will fit perfectly into the record collections of people who like the Kinsellas’ work (see: American Football, Owen, etc.). While all of these songs are pretty, drifting musical pieces which frequently feature breathy vocals and most seem like the perfect thing to put on when putting on the moves on that special someone for the very first time, some of them are just slightly too energetic (see: New End Original) to serve as background music. With all of that said, these songs are simply too immediately catchy to think that this is a record that I would still like in a year or two—they’re too immediately present and enjoyable; as most of us know, the albums we like best are the ones that we have to fight with for a while. This record is simply too genial to take a swing at me on the first listen. While that speaks well of its craft, it doesn’t say much about its staying power or whether it will mean much to me in the future. 
–scott (Jade Tree)

Dry River Fishing: CD
When you first look at this CD, you think, “Oh great, another pop punk band.” But on further inspection, you see this is the original early ‘80s Brit punk band that had an EP on Riot City. My first thoughts are that another old band is jumping back on the bandwagon, but this band’s notoriety was pretty limited to their first single. They had a song from that single on the Riot City Punk Singles Collection CD that came out in the early ‘90s and they were on the Have a Rotten Christmas Volume Two comp LP that I have seen at my brother’s house. There’ve been no patches or t-shirts to really keep their name going after all these years. So it looks like they are banging it out for the true love of playing. The first thing I noticed was that they have progressed musically from their first 7”. The sound I hear is a mixture of Goober Patrol mixed with Consumed on the UK side, and I hear a Pegboy meets Hüsker Dü meets modern day Hot Water Music, if you need a reference using bands from the states. Lyrically, they have not strayed from the issue-related lyrics of the past, yet have further progressed them with more thought and introspect. The old guys can still bang out a tune. No sooner are you ready to throw a CD into the bag that you take to the record store for trade, you find that needle in the haystack.  –don (No Idea)

Self-titled: CD
Funny what a decade can change. This sounds a lot like Bleach to Nevermind-era Nirvana (especially the voice), and it sounds good. Perhaps it has to do with it being a two-piece from Israel. Perhaps it has to do with grunge, over-saturating the airwaves, exploding like a Zeppelin filled with mustard gas, and becoming such a dirty word in a relatively short amount of time that most bands still won’t attempt it because it still has a touch of the plague. So, it feels like they’re doing it for the right reasons. Making good music. Mother’s Anger also has bits of the more roaming Mudhoney, the less experimental Kent 3, and a bunch of “you’re older, grow out of punk” music that I’d don’t know too much about but recognize from my more genteel friends who play it when I’m at their houses. For something I’m not predisposed to liking, this isn’t bad at all. It’s a good middle ground between punk and indie. 
–todd (Dionysus)

Gacy's Place: CD
Late night L.A. radio show, some Saturday circa 1982. Through the mist comes this completely insane individual screaming “Don’t leave me here to DIE!/Don’t leave me here to DIIIEE!” over what sounds like some other nutjob bashing cardboard boxes to the rhythm of some sort of static pattern. Naturally, I’m intrigued, and thankfully, I’m recording the whole thing. Over the course of the next two weeks, I play this track over and over again, eventually coming to the conclusion that a) the boxes were drums, b) what I thought was static was actually the guitar, c) these guys are outta their fucking minds, d) these guys are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my short life. Of course, I summarily lose the tape and forget the band’s name before I can find anything on vinyl. That song, however, managed to permanently etch itself into my brain. Fast forward six years, wherein I randomly pick out some compilation called Killed By Death at some record store because it has the Cheifs’ “Blues” on it and I love that song. The song that follows it, “Gacy’s Place,” comes on and I find myself jumping up and down in absolute glee as the aforementioned completely insane individual is again bellowing at me, warning me that “they’re fucking your kids!” Not having any kids, I take his concern for my progeny with a grain of salt, yet remain stoked that I finally have something by this elusive band to call my own. Fast forward another sixteen years, and I find myself with a copy of a new CD with twenty—count ‘em—twenty tracks from one of the greatest, most deranged, PUNKEST goddamn bands I’ve ever heard in my now not-as-short-as-it-used-to-be life. In some Mansonesque twist of fate, I see the parallels between the band and my own life—a) they: a tune called “Doggie Sex,” me: writer of a song called “A Boy and His Dog;” which roughly covered the same subject matter, b) they: a song called “Tumor Boy,” me: my last band was the Tumors; c) they: a song called “Dry Heave,” me: anyone who knows of my former love of malt beverages can spell out the correlation on this one—and realize that they have been trying to send me a message for quite some time, but due to some cruel twist of fate, I haven’t been able to receive it. I plop it on the stereo, not coincidentally in the middle of the night on some Saturday circa 2004, fast forward it to track number five, “Padded Cell,” and the insane individual is screaming, “Don’t leave me here to DIE!/Don’t leave me here to DIIIEE!” at me again, just like he did twenty-two years ago. I kneel down, pick up one of the speakers blaring away on the floor, caress it and softly tell him no, I won’t ever leave him again. –jimmy (Alternative Tentacles)

On the Outside: CD
Some people find God! Some people find Communism! Other people find the Marked Men! This album is so good that it makes you fall to your knees and BELIEVE IN THE HEALING POWER OF ROCK AND ROLL! I cannot possibly sound cheezy enough! I fucking love this album! If another band wrote even ONE of these songs, they could retire, happy, to a life of reality-TV-watching and Cheetos consumption. When I saw them live in Minneapolis a few weeks ago, I was overcome! Overjoyed! Dancing like a fool and singing along at the top of my lungs! How does it feel to be a genius? Ask the Marked Men. The best band in the world right now! One of the best albums in the history of albums, including all genres of music, from cavemen banging on drums to Woody Guthrie to the Ramones! I almost never say this, but I think this might be BETTER THAN LUCKY CHARMS! There is no cereal good enough to describe this! Ahhhh!!!!!!!  –Maddy (Dirtnap)

Self-titled: CD
The Manhandlers have one song, which I’m fine with. And it lasts for twelve songs on this LP. It just depends on how much screeching I can take. As a 7”, I’d probably play the shit out of this. As a full-length, I’m not as stoked because it blends all together into a big tumor-y lump. They’re all ladies. Ramones buzzsaw guitars. Watery bass reminiscent of the Dead Kennedy’s Klaus Fluoride. Sometimes sexy, sometimes irritating vocals. Songs about revenge, pharmaceuticals, and relationships. Come to think of it, last issue I was bummed at listening to Joan Jett. Joan was sounding dirty but her all-pro backup band sounded way too clean, like they were selling soap. The Manhandlers would be perfect in that latter role. They’ve definitely got the intensity, the grit, the barbs sticking out, and lipstick smears in private places, but a little variance in the songs wouldn’t hurt ‘em one bit. –todd (Criminal I.Q.)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974

| 0-9| A| B| C| D| E| F| G| H| I| J| K| L| M |

| N| O| P| Q| R| S| T| U| V| W| X| Y| Z|

Razorcake Podcast Player

·Webcomic Wednesdays #131

If you live in the Los Angeles area and want to help us out, let us know.

Get monthly notifications of new arrivals and distro and special offers for being part of the Razorcake army.

Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc.
PO Box 42129
Los Angeles, CA 90042

Except for reviews, which appear in both, the
contents of the Razorcake website are completely
different from the contents of Razorcake Fanzine.

© 2001-2015 Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc. Privacy Policy

Razorcake.org is made possible in part by grants from
the City of Los Angeles, Department
of Cultural Affairs and is supported
by the Los Angeles County Board of
Supervisors through the Los Angeles
Arts Commission.
Department of Cultural AffairsLos Angeles County Arts Commission

Web site engine code is Copyright © 2003 by PHP-Nuke. All Rights Reserved. PHP-Nuke is Free Software released under the GNU/GPL license.