Skip to main content
Although Rachelle Menashe only began tailoring devotional candles for PDX punk icons six years ago, as part of the memorial for beloved Satyricon presence Bruno Berger, her first experiences with prayer candles burn bright in childhood memories. Menashe, who once owned the influential ’90s venue Suburbia and played in the legendary garage trio Frances Farmer Gals, was never particularly religious. She grew up in a Jewish household, but her lapsed-Catholic mother would spirit Rachelle and her twin sister away to the Grotto for secret sanctified lighting ceremonies honoring late relatives.
(Menashe’s twin sister founded Flix Wix candles, which makes votives featuring more mainstream celebrities.)
Meanwhile, Menashe’s comparatively limited array of merchandise now encompasses matchbooks twinned to her subjects and encompasses a “Living Legends” roster featuring such luminaries as street performer-turned-nightclub crooner John “Elvis” Schroder, Portlandia mainstay Jedediah Aaker, and Dead Moon co-founder Toody Cole.
“Some of the candles are really personalized,” Menashe explains. “Bruno has the Satyricon floor behind him. Fred has his guitar, the arrows for Pierced Arrows, and a little dead moon. That’s Andrew [Loomis’] actual drum set with the candle inside the Jack Daniels bottle. Chris [Napalm Beach] Newman has his guitar. Sam [Wipers] Henry has his drumsticks. I had to manually put them in the template after wiping out a cross or something.”
Initially sold only to friends, hand delivering some during Uber Eats gigs amid the darkest days of COVID, Menashe’s punk novenas are now available for purchase at Ozone Records and behind the bar of Republic Cafe’s Ming Lounge. In addition, for a few weeks this summer, Menashe plans to set up her school bus residence as a pop-up shop hawking wares to fellow travelers vacationing near Detroit Lake.
Though Menashe has yet to set up a proper website (or computer, for that matter), fans have tracked her down via Instagram for mail-order shipments—a sizable share, despite the outrageous postal costs, originating from Europe, where the cult of Dead Moon shines undimmed—and she’s been kept busy meeting the demands of an ever-expanding catalog. “Unfortunately,” she laughs, “people keep dying.”
See the rest of Willamette Week’s Best of Portland 2026 here!
