The Dishrags | Interview | Canada’s First All-Girl Punk Band
THE DISHRAGS! First all-girl punk band in Canada, and they didn’t need to tell you twice. They just plugged in, played fast, and left scorch marks on the stage.
Three teenage girls from Victoria, moving to Vancouver, diving headfirst into a scene that barely existed yet—before riot grrrl, before “women in punk” was a selling point. No slogans, no rockstar bullshit, just real snot-nosed energy. They opened for The Clash, held their own against the sneers of a male-dominated scene, and cranked out urgent, stripped-down punk that still holds up.
Songs like ‘I Don’t Love You’ and ‘Past is Past’ hit like a gut punch—short, sharp, no excess, no filler. By ‘80 it was done, burned out like so many great punk bands. But their legacy still howls through the cracks, louder than the sneering dudes who didn’t take them seriously. They proved you didn’t need to play like Hendrix or pose like the Dolls to shake the walls. Just grab a guitar, scream into the mic, and mean every goddamn word. The Dishrags did, and that’s why they still matter.
Recently released, ‘Four’ by Supreme Echo is a continuation of the previously issued 2022 release, ‘Three.’ It captures the unique rebellious spirit of Canada’s first all-female punk band. ‘Four’ compiles their 1980 output—demos, the ‘Death in the Family’ EP, and a live recording—while ‘Three’ features 20 tracks, including a rare live Clash set. Both include limited extras; grab them now before they’re gone, and remember to play their records LOUD.
“The more we showed our allegiance to punk, the less accepted we became at school.”
Would you like to share about your upbringing? Where did you all grow up? Tell us about daily life back in your teenage years.
Jade Blade: The original three-piece Dishrags grew up in Central Saanich, a small municipality just north of the city of Victoria (the provincial capital of BC) on Vancouver Island. We met in elementary school—Scout and I became best friends when we were around seven, and then the three of us became inseparable in junior high (when we were around twelve, I think). The area we grew up in, while physically beautiful and mostly an agricultural community, was a deadly dull place to be a teenager. The band became both our obsession and our ticket out. Music had always been our refuge (as rabid fans), but once we formed a band, we knew we had to leave if we ever wanted to be seen and heard.
Was there a certain scene you were part of? Maybe you had some favorite hangout places? Did you attend a lot of gigs back then?
The more we showed our allegiance to punk, the less accepted we became at school. The area we lived in was always pretty conservative, so for girls to dress in torn jeans, oversized men’s shirts, and leather jackets, and to play drums, bass, and guitar (i.e., “boys’” clothes and instruments) really made us outsiders among our school peers. There was no punk scene in Victoria at all at that time—maybe a couple of kids we met downtown expressed an interest—but there certainly wasn’t a punk community, and no punk bands played in Victoria until we did a gig there in the spring of 1978 with DOA and AV (both from Vancouver).
Before we discovered punk (which happened in the summer of 1976 after I picked up a copy of the first Ramones album in Seattle on a family trip), we would go see pretty much any bands that came through town and played at Memorial Arena (a hockey rink): April Wine, BTO, Ike and Tina Turner, Supertramp, the Bay City Rollers, etc. Victoria was too small a city to attract the acts we truly loved (e.g., David Bowie, T. Rex, Roxy Music, Lou Reed, Alice Cooper, Suzi Quatro, etc.), and while they sometimes played in Vancouver, we were usually too broke—or our parents simply wouldn’t allow us to go because we were too young. Vancouver being on the mainland meant that attending any shows required a ferry ride and an overnight stay.
We were also too young to see bands at bars or clubs anywhere (the legal drinking age in BC is nineteen, and we were still only eighteen by the time the band eventually broke up). But once we dropped out of high school and moved to Vancouver in the summer of 1978 (at the ages of sixteen and seventeen), we went to tons of shows. The scene was small, and we all knew one another, so everyone went to pretty much every punk or punk-related gig that was played.
The early punk hangouts were mostly grotty houses or apartments rented by members of the punk scene, plus the few clubs that would let us play (the Windmill or Quadra clubs early on; the Smilin’ Buddha later). While some of these were licensed bars, we got around the rules either because we were playing (we were allowed on stage but not in the bar area), someone snuck us in the back door, or the venue just turned a blind eye to the fact that we were underage.
If we were to step into your teenage room, what kind of records, fanzines, posters, etc., would we find there?
I had LOTS of David Bowie posters when I lived at home. The only way to find out about music then was through the available mainstream magazines, so I subscribed to Creem and Circus (that was how I found out about the Ramones) and bought the occasional Rolling Stone, often pulling out pages and posters for my walls. Once we moved to Vancouver in ’78, our apartment was filled with local punk posters and fanzines—Snotrag, Public Enemy, and every punk-related UK or US publication we could get our hands on.
Was Dishrags your very first band, or were you involved with any other bands?
Well, seeing as we were all in junior high and around 14 at the time—yes, the Dishrags was the first band for the three-piece! While certainly not rock ’n’ roll, if you want to include our junior high school band, Dale and I played flute, and Scout played the clarinet. We had all been in the alto section of the Saanich District Youth Choir.
As for the four-piece, Sue and Kim had been in the Devices before we joined forces in 1979, although I’m not sure if they had been in any other bands.
“Bingo: DIY!!!”
Can you elaborate on the formation of the Dishrags? What was the driving force behind your decision to form a band at such a young age, and how did your early experiences shape your musical direction?
First of all, the three of us were huge music fans—as mentioned, it was our refuge (“You know her life was saved by rock ’n’ roll” comes to mind, from a song we all loved). We all loved alternative music that typically wasn’t played on AM radio where we lived. Secondly, we were also alternative thinkers when it came to politics (strong leftist/feminist leanings in a predominantly conservative community). Thirdly, we were bored teenagers in a pretty dull part of the world, desperate for something exciting to do. And finally, and decisively, we discovered punk rock and went, “Bingo: DIY!!!”
It’s always exciting when something lost finds its way back. Are you excited to have your music finally available worldwide via Supreme Echo?
Well, there was an earlier release of much of the same material—’Love/Hate,’ a compilation CD released around 1997 by Other People’s Music (Toronto) and later distributed by EMI—plus a couple of CD reissues of select material: ‘There’s No Dee Dee’ (Gem, 2006) and ‘Past is Past’ (Japan’s Base Records, 2009). But it’s great to have our music finally released on vinyl LPs with great packaging, and we’re super happy with both ‘Three’ and ‘Four.’
What was it like to work with Jason on the recent release?
Great! Jason has done a wonderful job of remastering and packaging, and we really appreciate that he takes so much care and interest in creating these (and his many other) releases.
What made you move from Victoria to Vancouver back in the ‘70s?
This is largely answered in my previous comments, but it’s also essential to mention that my “big-city” (i.e., Vancouver) cousin, Chris Arnett, and his band, The Furies (Vancouver’s first punk band), along with their manager, Kat Hammond, were all instrumental in inspiring and making this move possible.
We had gone to Vancouver for a gig (Alice Cooper, we think, although not verified), but it ended up being canceled at the last minute. Instead—and luckily—we went to watch The Furies practice. Not only did we love what we saw and heard (very Velvet Underground-inspired, sped up a few notches), but Kat was at the practice and learned that we also had a band. She asked us (without hearing a note!) if we wanted to open for The Furies at what was to be Vancouver’s first punk gig (apparently the first in all of Canada outside of Toronto) on July 30, 1977.
Of course, we said, “YES!!!” (even though we had played only one gig before then, which was in my parents’ living room…). Kat also gave us our name—choosing a band name, as anyone who has ever been in a band will know, is always a difficult process. The three of us spent a fair bit of time debating, deciding on, and then changing band names. I think Kat had had enough and just took it upon herself to bill us as Dee Dee and the Dishrags. We didn’t like the name, but once it was on the posters, it at least meant we didn’t waste all our time dithering about what to call ourselves!
What influenced your sound?
The Ramones, Velvet Underground, early Clash, Adverts, Buzzcocks, Damned—pretty much any good punk records we could get our hands on in those days.
What kind of places did you play? What are some of the bands you shared stages with?
Anywhere that would take us! A lot of community halls or small clubs like the Windmill, Quadra, Smilin’ Buddha, and Lotus. We played in Seattle quite a lot as well, in similar places.
We mostly played with bands from the Vancouver and Seattle punk scenes—DOA, Subhumans, Rabid, Pointed Sticks, Wasted Lives, etc. But we also got to play some larger venues when opening for bands like The Clash (their first North American gig on January 31, 1979, at the Commodore, then later that year at the Paramount in Seattle) or the Ramones.
“We played ‘London’s Burning’ for our encore, accompanied by The Clash dancing beside the stage”
What was the craziest gig you ever played?
That’s a hard question—they were all crazy in their own way.
The very first gig with The Furies, because we were so green (two of us were 15 and completely inexperienced in public performance, still pretty tentative on our instruments).
Opening for The Clash in Vancouver—not only because we got to meet them and Bo Diddley, but also because we played ‘London’s Burning’ for our encore, accompanied by The Clash dancing beside the stage. Then The Clash, in turn, dedicated their version that night to us!
Opening and closing for the Ramones at the Showbox in Seattle. The Ramones canceled at the last minute, and we were given the thankless task of letting the audience know before we left the stage—resulting in an unleashing of abusive comments and even a few beer bottles. Like it was our fault somehow…
Where did you record the songs that were released back then?
Our first recording session was at Sabre Sound, a home studio in engineer Chris Cutress’s parents’ suburban basement. We recorded two songs there for the Vancouver Complication album—’I Don’t Love You’ and ‘Bullshit,’ although the latter was shelved until the later CD reissue of the album.
Our first single was recorded at Triangle Studios in Seattle (our label, Modern Records, and our management were Seattle-based). I was very excited to see, much later on, that Nirvana had recorded at the same studio (although it had a different name by then).
Finally, the four-piece recorded the band’s second single at Ocean Sound, a recording studio in North Vancouver. I can’t remember exactly how it was chosen, but probably because it was affordable—we never had enough money for high-end studio sessions.
Tell us about the instruments, gear, effects, etc., you had in the band.
No effects whatsoever! We had pretty basic gear—I started with a very cheap faux SG, followed by a crummy second-hand but real SG. Dale had a nice Mustang bass, but it was sadly stolen from our practice space. I think Scout had some Ludwigs, but she often just played on whatever gear was being shared for gigs, and Dale and I usually did the same with whatever amps were available. We couldn’t afford any fancy gear, but it was never a priority—as long as it worked, we were okay with it. But I do remember playing with some very sub-par gear, including our own when bands refused to let us use theirs, and in places with no monitors or experienced sound people to help out. It could be pretty chaotic on stage when we couldn’t hear ourselves or one another.
Tell us more about your 9-song studio demo and the 3-song ‘Death in the Family’ EP.
The studio demo of the four-piece was done at Sabre Sound, with Chuck Biscuits acting as a producer of sorts, although I think this was because he was our manager at the time. It was a very speedy session and never intended to be released in any form, so “production” wasn’t much of a concern. The EP was quite different in that we went in with the purpose of recording songs for release, and it was a more professional studio. Bill and Phil were also more involved as producers, and in general, there was more at stake.
‘The Death in the Family’ EP has such a unique sound and vibe. Can you walk us through the creative process behind this EP? How did the sessions at Ocean Sound come together, and what was the atmosphere like with Phil and Bill as producers?
It was actually a really weird experience in that the song ‘Death in the Family’ was about the three-piece breaking up, and the atmosphere during its recording was pretty tense—the four-piece was also in its death throes, even though we weren’t fully aware of it at the time. As I recall, working with Phil and Bill was good—it was the band that was the problem, creating a somewhat charged atmosphere. A four-way marriage is a good analogy for the situation, and I’m guessing that most people who have been in bands are familiar with the kinds of interpersonal tensions that can arise without anyone really wanting or intending for it to happen.
There were a lot of contributing external factors that had been building—never enough money coming in, not enough gigs or support (e.g., a revolving door of managers), and a continued struggle to be taken seriously as writers and musicians (a perpetual “novelty” act because we were an all-girl band). I think it comes across on the record that my writing was getting a bit more pop-inspired and introspective (‘Death in the Family’ and ‘All the Pain’), while Sue’s was more hardcore and political (‘Beware of Dog’). While Sue and I had previously done some co-writing, the songs on the EP were written individually. That said, I think it works as a whole in that the songs are really about being disillusioned and increasingly cynical about both the punk scene and the world.
But I’m also very proud of the EP—I think our writing and playing are really good, and it was so great having Sue in the band, as it allowed us to be more inventive with our guitar parts, which I think comes across well on this recording. I think all four of us played together really well, and Bill and Phil did a good job producing.
The band’s transition from a trio to a quartet with the addition of Kim and Sue was a significant change. How did this shift in lineup affect the band’s dynamic and musical direction?
It took a bit of getting used to in terms of dynamics, in that Dale, Scout, and I had grown up together and knew each other very well—we were friends before becoming a band and have remained so since then. It was initially fun and exciting to start what felt like essentially a new band with Sue and Kim, and for the most part, we got along really well, although eventually, the same external factors mentioned above began to erode the fun. Musically, it was great to have two guitars, two songwriters, and four singers. I think if we had managed to stay together longer, we could have done some truly great things musically—we’d really only just begun to gel at the time we broke up.
When did you stop playing together, and what occupied your life later on?
We stopped playing together in the summer of 1980; our last gig happened before we went into the studio to record the EP, and Scout left while we were doing overdubs and mixing. The rest of us decided to call it quits just after that, before the single was even released. After the band broke up, I worked for a few years and then went back to school, pretty much staying there (having gone straight from 10 years as a student to teaching at a university). I was in another band in the ’90s, called Volumizer; we put out what I still think is a great album on Mint Records in 2001 called ‘Gaga for Gigi.’ Bill and I also raised a couple of fantastic kids (now adults) who are both hugely talented musicians and introduce us to lots of great music (the ‘Volumizer’ album title references our daughter, Gina, who was born in 1999).
The Summer of Hate concert in 2007 was a significant reunion. What was it like to revisit the past and perform with the Furies after such a long time? How did it feel to reconnect with your old music and fans?
Well, it was kinda weird, honestly. I have mixed feelings about reunions in general, so maybe I’ll just leave it at that. Past is past, as we once said. I did love playing in Japan in 2010, though—it’s a great place to play, and the whole experience was really energizing. And I love hanging out with Scout and Dale—we are all still great friends. It’s also been nice to reconnect with Sue and Kim via the release of Four, thanks to Jason.
How did the challenges of being an all-female band in a male-dominated punk scene impact your experiences both on and off stage?
It was a double-edged sword, really. We got gigs because we were a “novelty” act, but then no one took us seriously for the same reason. It was a difficult box to crawl out of, and I hate to say that I think it ultimately defeated us—or at least thoroughly discouraged us. We were continually offered opening (rather than headlining) slots, often to help attract an audience because we were an “all-girl” band, and then had to put up with sexist slurs hurled at the stage. Although the latter didn’t always happen—the usual Vancouver punk audience was great, but there were always outsiders who came more out of curiosity and were generally the more belligerent, sexist ones. Off stage, the way we dressed often attracted attention from detractors who seemed to think we should dress like “proper” girls; it was very easy to shock people in those days by displaying any kind of behavior that went against social norms.
Looking back, what was the highlight of your time in the band? Which songs are you most proud of? Where and when was your most memorable gig?
That’s a tough one—I think the very early days were the best overall, when we first moved to Vancouver and were so excited to feel part of something very special that was happening here. It was a tight-knit and supportive community that produced great music and some lasting relationships—many of our closest friendships are with people we met during those years (and I’m still married to Bill Napier-Hemy, whom I met in 1978). The scene began to deteriorate when people started doing drugs and decided they wanted to become rock stars—the fun was mostly over by 1980, and I think that was also a deciding factor in us breaking up for good that year.
As for songs, I like everything we recorded that was intended for release (the ‘Vancouver Complication’ songs and the ‘Past is Past’ and ‘Death in the Family’ singles). If we’d had better gear and more time (i.e., more money for recording), I think we could have improved on these, but I’m still very proud of what we released. And even though the demo tapes are pretty raw, there is still some good material there.
Most memorable gigs include the Clash gig at the Commodore for the reasons mentioned above, but also because it was a great example of how sometimes you can meet your heroes and not be disappointed. The Clash were super nice to us (especially Joe Strummer, a true gentleman), and the band showed a genuine interest in the local scene by coming to a gig at the Windmill and even playing a game of soccer with some of the local punks. But in terms of pride, I think I’m most proud of the fact that we had the guts to do what we did way back then—it certainly wasn’t easy to drop out of school, move to the big city, and stand up and perform in front of strangers as three (and then four) teenage girls in those days.
What currently occupies your life?
I’ve recently retired after teaching Art History at a local university for 25+ years. I loved teaching, but it is also demanding and exhausting, so I am very happy and relieved to be free now to do the things I’ve put off for so many years. I’ve got a long list that I won’t bore you with… but perhaps, relevant to the interview, in many ways I’m still a punk rocker at heart—both politically and musically. Some of my desires include advocating for things that would be beneficial to the planet and society, like free public transit and free university education (people are in desperate need of critical thinking skills these days, what with the garbage constantly being posted online or spouted by ignorant political figures and quack medical “experts”). And while I don’t intend to get back into public performance, I do want to start playing and writing music again.
I should also mention that I’m very proud the Dishrags are included in some upcoming music exhibitions at Canadian museums: Beyond the Beat: Music of Resistance and Change at the Royal BC Museum and Retro – Popular Music in Canada from the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s at the Canadian Museum of History (which also has a permanent Dishrags collection), both opening in late spring 2025.
I remain a huge music fan. I kind of went off music for a while in the ’80s when I became disillusioned with what happened to the punk scene, but my interest was rekindled in the ’90s by the advent of grunge (Nirvana in particular), which led to my return to writing and playing in Volumizer at that time. I’m now a huge fan of Courtney Barnett, among many other super-talented women in music today. It is very gratifying to see how many women are now in the music world—even to the point of dominating the mainstream music industry. Recent favorite (and upcoming) shows include performers both old (e.g., Sparks, Gang of Four) and new (Boygenius, Sharon Van Etten).
Thank you for taking your time. The last word is yours.
That’s a dangerously generous offer to get on my soapbox! But maybe just a brief plea to those who fear the world is teetering on the brink of self-destruction: remember that most people are good and that there is much that is right with the world, so don’t despair—never give up the good fight, and don’t let the evildoers bully or win; there’s far too much to lose. And, of course, listening to your favorite music loud can help, too.
Klemen Breznikar
Headline photo: The Dishrags with Ramones LP (1978) | Photo by Robert Strazicich
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