LOUDER THAN LABELS: A Conversation with SKANKS WITH KNIVEs
Every label tells part of a story. This series exists to explore everything it leaves out
For the first article in the Louder Than Labels series, I decided to reach out to a Hawaiʻi-based punk band called Skanks With Knives.
The reason they stood out to me over any other band I could have reached out to is because Skanks With Knives is an all-female group. While that isn't entirely new, it certainly isn't common either. Most industries, including music, have historically been male dominated. I thought it would be interesting to hear the perspective of a group of women making a name for themselves in such a niche genre of music, especially in Hawaiʻi, where the punk scene is much smaller than in many other places.
I was also intrigued by their name. They chose to use "skank," a derogatory word often directed toward women, seemingly reclaiming it rather than running from it. That immediately caught my attention because reclaiming words is something LOWLIFE has explored through the LOWLIFE Dictionary. I ended up speaking with the founder of the band, Turbo, and this is how our conversation went.
Origins
A group of women who all happened to love making music somehow found one another and connected so well that they decided to form a punk band. I had to know how that happened.
Question:"How did the band first come together, and was there ever a moment where you realized that the people you were playing with were more than just friends, but a real band?"
Turbo: "So I had all different members for the first couple months of Skanks and unfortunately things with them didn't work out so I had to find all new members pretty quickly because Skanks had a couple shows lined up that I didn't wanna bail...
I've known my bassist Jess for a year and a half now because I play bass in their band... when I needed to find a new bassist I knew Jess was the right person for the job.
My guitarist Nikki and I have been mutuals since like 2018... we all got together and clicked immediately and I knew these were the right Skanks...
After our first show together at the Rainbow Bar N Grill, only three weeks after forming, the energy was amazing. It really solidified that we had something special."
I appreciated how open Turbo was in her answer.
We've all had friendships or groups that eventually fell apart, but I couldn't imagine how stressful it must be when it happens to a band you founded while shows are already booked.
It seemed like everything ultimately worked out for the best. Performing live only three weeks after coming together is wild—but also pretty badass.
The more I thought about it, the more it reminded me of something that happens in nature. Sometimes forests grow stronger after a wildfire. Looking back, it almost feels like Skanks With Knives grew from the ashes of something that didn't work.
As our conversation continued, I became curious about what it was like being women in the punk scene.
You don't see many all-female punk bands. I wondered whether they felt underestimated, held to different standards, or felt like they constantly had something to prove simply because of who they were.
Question:"Have you ever felt underestimated when playing shows or working with other musicians?"
Turbo:
"Oh totally! Especially because I'm small and bubbly and dressed like a skank people don't take me super seriously... until they hear exactly what the fuck I'm about."
That was disappointing to hear, but I can't honestly say I was surprised.
Like every community, punk has people from all backgrounds and perspectives. There will always be people who underestimate others because of appearance, gender, or stereotypes.
That doesn't excuse disrespect.
If anything, I think it reinforces why all-female bands deserve to exist. Not because they're women, but because somewhere there's another young woman watching them who suddenly realizes she can do the same thing.
Question:"What's the biggest misconception people have about women in punk?"
Turbo:
"Women in punk aren't there because they have something to prove... they're there because they have a message, wanna have fun, express themselves, and get their anger out...
My previous members told me that because we're women we have to think long and hard about everything we do... No we fucking don't."
That line surprised me.
Turbo never explicitly explained why her previous lineup didn't work out, but this answer gave me some insight. It became obvious that her vision for the band was fundamentally different.
I can understand both sides.
Nobody wants to be judged unfairly.
But living your life according to someone else's expectations is a cage.
Most people know that.
Very few people actually live like they believe it.
Turbo seems to.
And I respect that.
I’m Don’t know who is Who but its still one hell of a picture
Before the Noise
By this point I was less interested in the band itself and more interested in Turbo as a person.
Before Skanks With Knives...
Before the shows...
Who was she?
Question:"What was the first punk song or artist that made you feel seen?"
Turbo:
"As cliché as it might be, Kathleen Hanna from Bikini Kill was the first artist I wanted to be like..."
I could relate to this.
Most of us have someone we looked up to growing up.
Someone who reflected the person we hoped we might become one day.
For Turbo, it was another female punk musician.
Growing up with a punk dad must have been equal parts awesome and terrifying.
It also made me wonder how much of her love for punk came from those early moments of bonding over music.
That naturally led to the next question.
Question:"What does punk mean to you personally, beyond the music?"
Turbo:
"Beyond the music, punk is political...
Being punk means standing up for people who don't have a voice... building up your community... not giving a fuck what others think...
Every day you live for yourself and your community is a protest."
I couldn't have agreed more.
I've never grown up inside punk culture, but I've spent enough time around Hawaiʻi's scene to notice something.
It's incredibly community-oriented.
Bands promote one another.
Musicians play in multiple projects.
Shows become gatherings rather than competitions.
Even the mosh pit reflects that.
The same person who accidentally knocks you to the floor is often the first one reaching down to help you back up.
That's not to pretend everyone is perfect.
Every community has bad actors.
But hearing Turbo describe punk as authenticity, respect, and community reminded me that the music is only one piece of something much larger.
Question:"What's a lyric you're especially proud of, and what's the story behind it?"
Turbo:
"I bare my flesh like I bare my sins...
...you won't make me apologize or be ashamed for showing skin or for 'committing sin.'"
I had to sit with this answer for a while.
I don't know much about Catholicism.
But I do know what it's feels like to constantly carry someone else's expectations.
To feel like you'll only be accepted if you become someone else.
That feeling...
That's something I understand.
Question:"When you're writing a song, how do you know it's finished?"
Turbo:
"I have no idea when a song is finished...
I always think it can be better.
I just have to decide it's done."
This one made me laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was honest.
How many of us have reached a point where perfection becomes the enemy of actually finishing something?
Sometimes the hardest part of creating isn't making something.
It's deciding to let it exist.
…I’m stealing this pose
Beyond the Stage
By now we'd talked about the music.
We'd talked about Turbo.
Now I wanted to know what Skanks With Knives stood for outside of the stage.
Question:"Do you think punk still has the power to challenge people, or has it become more of a community space than a protest space?"
Turbo:
"Punk absolutely still has the power to challenge people...
There will always be people trying to do real shit...
organizing food drives...
giving back to the community...
punching Nazis in the fucking head."
One thing stood out to me.
Punk still has power.
Maybe it doesn't look exactly like it did decades ago.
But people are still organizing.
Still speaking.
Still resisting.
That's worth remembering.
Question:"What do you hope younger girls see when they watch you perform?"
Turbo:
"I hope younger girls learn that anger is healthy...
They don't have to be submissive...
Don't be ashamed to be who you are."
I think that message extends beyond women.
We spend so much time comparing ourselves to carefully curated versions of other people's lives.
We rarely see their insecurities.
Their doubts.
Their failures.
The message wasn't simply "be loud."
It was...
Don't apologize for existing.
Question:"What are you building right now that excites you most?"
Turbo:
"Building Skanks With Knives...
This is only the beginning."
That's a lot for one person to carry.
Writing songs.
Making merch.
Planning comics.
Learning to front a band.
Building a community.
It's exhausting.
But when you're building something you genuinely believe in...
Sometimes purpose outweighs exhaustion.
The Polaroid frAme was a nice touch
Reflection
There were so many questions I never got to ask.
If anything, this conversation only made me more curious.
When I first reached out, I thought I was interviewing a punk band.
By the end of our conversation, I realized I wasn't writing about punk as much as I was writing about people.
About authenticity.
About refusing to let other people define you.
About creating something meaningful even when the world tells you not to.
That's exactly why this series is called Louder Than Labels.
Because labels are often the first thing we learn about someone.
Rarely are they the most interesting thing.
Sometimes the loudest thing about a person isn't the label they're given—it's the life they choose to live beyond it.
