issue #02 pdf - Razorcake

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esponsible? If I really wanted to shift the blame, I could say that it was the fault of the state of Florida and the circumstances it had created for me: the fact that I had just spent the past four days, for two to three hours at a time, forcing on my students the state’s standardized tests in reading, writing, and math; the fact that what I am allowed to teach has become strictly regulated due to the contents of the tests, because administrators across the state have become fearful of experiencing the fate of one school that was sued by a student who received failing scores, claimed it was her teachers’ fault for not teaching the material, and won; the fact that I work at a school where the majority of my eighth graders read at a fourth grade level, where standardized tests have set up my students to experience failure and the discouraging reality of their race and economic legacy, and where they are even further segregated from the rich white kids who live along the coastline of this county and whose parents make the daily commute to their engineering jobs at the Cape in SUVs and foreign import cars. If I really wanted to shift the blame, I could raise these <strong>issue</strong>s and demand, how much do you actually expect from me for the amount of money you’re paying and the level of respect you’ve attributed to my profession? How much are you going to hold me accountable, and where does it say in my job description that I have to be somebody’s mother on top of everything else? I did shift the blame. I looked at Danny and I found myself turning it into the kid’s fault for not telling me sooner. I said, "Why didn’t you tell me about this when it happened yesterday?" Danny finally quit looking at everywhere else except at me. He broke his gaze from the floor and looked me right in the eye and said, "I did. I tried to, but you were busy with someone else, so I didn’t bother you and then it was the end of the period." It wasn’t until later on in the afternoon, when I was walking back to my classroom from the dean’s office where I had just submitted a referral and where the entire experience consisted of me watching the dean read it, snort, and say, "Well, now this is the boy’s side of the story. Did you talk to the girl?" – it wasn’t until I got to putting my key in the lock when I remembered why I’d been so busy that Danny didn’t want to approach me. I’d been too preoc- (above and opposite page) Two of Ms. Vidad’s favorite students and their hair. cupied with screaming at another one of my students who always seemed to develop selective hearing around the time the bell was going to end class. No matter how many warnings I gave my students to get ready to go, Ty was never in his seat and I usually ended up holding him back a few extra minutes before the late bell. But Ty is another story, the kind of kid who gets yelled at regularly and who shrugs his shoulders when he gets a call over the intercom to report to the front office. Ty could have given Danny some pointers on how to deal with being in the dean’s office. Danny was going to need it. I knew the dean didn’t have any respect for a kid who told me he wanted to go talk to the female assistant principal first. The boy was nervous by nature, and it didn’t help that his growing-up years was filled with people who made themselves feel better about themselves by intimidating somebody weaker. Danny was going to get bullied in the dean’s office, and he was going to walk out feeling like he never should have said anything in the first place. I knew all this, and it made me feel worse when the bell for the next period rang and the new kid from Georgia walked into my class. He was clean, well-mannered, called me ma’am, and had a sweet, soft-spoken Southern way of talking. That’s not what made me sick at heart. It was hearing the other students’ whispers and recognizing the look on the new student’s face when he took his assigned seat. This was the kid who, on his first day of school three days ago, got jumped in the boys’ locker room. The other kids didn’t like the way he talked and they wanted to beat him up. They said he was a faggot. -Felizon Vidad
INTERVIEW BY TODD AND SEAN JIM DECKER LEAD SINGER JIM KAA GUITAR, VOCALS DENNIS WALSH DRUMS CORY STRETZ BASS, VOCALS BOZ MILUCKY GUITAR, VOCALS ...KICKED THE DOOR WIDE OPEN THIS PICTURE BY RICK BAIN, ALL OTHERS BY TODD FOR BANDS LIKE TSOL AND THE ADOLESCENTS... “THEY WERE THE FIRST ONES BEHIND US AFTER THE DOOR WAS OPENED AND WE FELL DOWN.” The Crowd. Most folks outside of Southern California probably don't know who they are. I'm not going to get on my high (or even hobby-sized) horse. There are reasons for their undeserved obscurity. Reason Number One: Real bad timing. Ever see a cheerleader who's just a little bit out of synch, who can't raise her pom-pom at just the right time? That's the Crowd's timing. Reason Number Two: They have a knack of getting screwed. Directly or indirectly, for reasons that are explained further in this interview, most of their records are out-of-print or just really, really hard to find. Reason Number Three: Who knows? Luck's always a factor. The reason for this interview was simple: The Crowd, the founders of Southern California pop punk, are still plugging away, and not in a "Aww, how cute it is to watch them try," pity sort of way. The opposite. Not to sound as out of place as a clown at a funeral, I truly believe that The Crowd's best material is going to be released within this year. And that's exciting because they've already released lots of phenomenal stuff. Sean and I drove down to Huntington Beach, to a nice house in a nice subdivision. Jim Kaa's wife gave us soda pop, apple wedges, and crackers. She very politely wished us good luck on our "punk rock summit," snapped some gloves on, and went to gardening. Todd: We need a short background. Started 19__? Decker: '78. Summer. Kaa [pronounced like the letter "k"]: First gig was at a girl named Ginger Eastwood's house. Jim, me, his brother Jay, Tracy Porterfield playing guitar, and a guy named Barry Miranda playing drums. Barry Cuda and Tracy Modern. Everybody had their punk name. Tracy would refer to me as Jim De-Kaa [sounds exactly like "decay"]. Us being both Jims, people would refer to him as Jim Trash and me as K. People thought I had a big last name that started with a "k." Todd: What was the name before it was The Crowd? Kaa: The band existed without Jim as The New. Jim played in The Flyboys and The
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Page 32 and 33: Decker: I mean, that's what everyon
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Page 38: Dave: It lasted for a long time. Th
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Page 50 and 51: A SHORT ANATOMY OF FANDOM How Leath
Page 52 and 53: "When at a weak point or time of su
Page 54 and 55: 999 “English Wipeout” CD Two li
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Page 58 and 59: with such thundering almighty balls
Page 61 and 62: HALF JAPANESE “Hello” CD God, I
Page 63 and 64: LA before moving north to SF. J Chu
Page 65 and 66: or Husker Du album was coming out,
Page 67 and 68: “Black Monk Time” kills, but th
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Page 73 and 74: siast co-conspirators whose efforts
Page 75: five bands play hardcore of varying
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Send all zines for review to Razorc
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THE WAR AGAINST OBLIVION: THE ZAPAT
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THE BARFEEDERS "Wyoming" (It’s a
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