A magazine from another (planet)
It’s always sad when a former icon has passed on.
Today, one has. The formidable Punk (Planet) has folded, leaving thousands of punk rockers without their daily dose of knowledgeable writing and underground reviews.
I was a Punk (Planet) devotee for most of my punk rock days – a mere two years in absolute poseur-ville – and found I could still be smart while attempting to wear a dog choke collar and baggy pants. Punk (Planet) had a wonderful array of columnists – both talented writers and punk legends that opined on the state of the world, the state of the scene or the state of their ripped up pants.
I identified with Punk (Planet) as someone who enjoyed reading, and especially as someone who enjoyed writing emo-driven sappy-neoblog entries. I had built a website where I would journal online, far before the blogosphere had been recognized (thankfully so) – a site that died out once I realized that life was good and I had nothing to be whiny about.
So I enjoyed the magazine from a writer’s and reader’s perspective. It wasn’t really the most punk magazine out there, but it went along its way with thoughtful journalism instead of the ego-pounding brashness of Maximum Rock and Roll or the commercial flavor of Alternative Press. Norm Arenas became more than a respected musician through Punk (Planet) – he became, to me, a respected writer and a respected person.
Punk (Planet) was my first taste of underground literature – a magazine that spit in the face of Rolling Stone and other seemingly edgy mass-market periodicals. It got me on a ‘zine kick. I purchased all I could find. I poured over the innermost thoughts of some strangers who happened to like Morrissey and I railed against the system with the kids from AK Press. I even created my own ‘zine. And yes, it was reviewed by Punk (Planet). They tried to review everyone they could – even lame little poseurs like me.
Now, even though I haven’t picked up a copy of the magazine in nearly seven years, I find I’ll miss it a little bit. Much like Nintendo Power dominated my geeky video game years, Punk (Planet) dominated my “discovering myself” years, when I was searching for an identity, one I thought I could find at the end of a Bad Religion CD (but ultimately found at the end of a Bic pen).
So long, Punk (Planet). I truly hardly knew ye. But I’ll miss you all the same.