- or spot the five errors
I never quite figured out whether this was some kind of culture clash, or if it was simply the individuals behind the company who misunderstood something. But let me clarify what I mean.
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| Raging Jap RJ5 |
Today’s post is about a brand that has since disappeared. It holds a special place for me, as it was one of the first collaborations I ever undertook with a company. Things became complicated right from the start, however; while I did appreciate certain elements of the knife, the overall result was quite off-putting.
I’ll explain why. But this immediately presented me with a dilemma: how do you present a knife that shows some potential—yet clearly requires further development—while also hoping that the company will learn from its mistakes and release better models down the line?
My review can be read here; it is cautiously optimistic, though with some reservations. In addition to the review, I also sent an email to the company, elaborating on a few of the points mentioned below.
So, what was overlooked when this and a couple of other models were launched? Well, for starters—the name! "Raging Jap" sounds aggressive, like something out of the Second World War. It is anything but positive—especially given the time when this model was released, a period when knife violence was a hot topic in the media. (And, it should be added, it remains so today.)
To accompany the name, a logo was chosen—presumably intended to evoke national pride—featuring a grinning samurai mask inside a large circle. That might have been acceptable had they stopped there and refined the design aesthetically; but no, a *torii*—a Japanese Shinto gate—had to be shoehorned into a second version of the logo, which consisted of the name in large, blocky letters followed by this sacred symbol.
I find it truly bizarre that a people so obsessed with calligraphy fail to grasp that other alphabets, too, possess their own forms of fine lettering and diverse typefaces. Their designer had completely missed that point.
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| The name feels wrong, the font feels wrong, and the size of the text IS wrong. Incidentally, it is also the same font that has been used for the steel type. |
Worse still, there was a complete failure to grasp that a knife positioned as a more exclusive, higher-priced product—a point I will return to—needs to have a more understated appearance. This was a time when the CR Sebenza was the gold standard. Instead, they went for a loud, flashy approach, plastering the brand logo—rendered in an ugly typeface and an overly large font—onto the presentation side of the blade. They also saw fit to include the steel type, again in a font size that was far too big, positioned so that it partially overlapped the "plunge line." To make matters worse, the typeface used for this is different from the one in the logo.
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| Space for a second logo. Why not make it really large—positioned at a slight angle, extending too far forward on the blade, and running right across the bevel? |
On the opposite side, however, things get even worse. That is where the model name is found—its only redeeming quality being that it uses the same blocky typeface as the first logo. Furthermore, the place and country of manufacture have been added in a third typeface. But that’s not all: this is also where the second logo—the one featuring a samurai—is located. It is large, garish, and positioned on the front part of the blade; to make matters worse, it is applied at an angle, cutting right across the grind. It really couldn’t be any worse! Talk about a visual disaster.
Not only is there text and imagery in FIVE different places on the blade—using three different fonts—but they’ve also managed to slap yet another marking onto the pocket clip! Just in case anyone somehow missed which brand this is. It becomes particularly interesting when you consider that all of this is crammed onto a knife that is only 18 cm long. The only other brand in history that has pulled off something similar is probably SOG, which is often a major offender in this regard.
They even took the opportunity to include the blade material on the clip, adding yet more text to the knife. At this point, we’re practically approaching the length of a short story.
This brings us naturally to why this is a peculiar knife—setting aside the excessive branding. One reason is the combination of materials, especially when considered in relation to the price. This knife features a steel lock-side, a G10 presentation-side, a VG10 blade, and a titanium pocket clip. The latter material was likely chosen solely because it was trendy at the time, though it might have been put to better use in the frame lock itself. Here, it exists purely to be included in the specifications as a selling point—or at least, that is what I suspect.
The second reason is that they wanted around 130 dollars for the knife when it was released. It should be noted that this was more than ten years ago. The materials were too basic for that price point; VG10 wasn’t particularly unique, and most knives in the same price range already featured more exclusive steels back then. In short, they priced themselves out of the competition—something I pointed out to them.
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| The clip is made of titanium, large, and excessively high. The cutout for the lock bar is too crude, and to top it all off, the blade action is anything but smooth. |
The second reason is that this feels like a knife designed by amateurs—or by someone who stood outside a grimy shop window, peered in, and tried to recreate what they saw.
It is slightly too small to fit a normal hand. Perhaps it might suit a very small Japanese hand, but certainly not the typical Western hand—which, incidentally, was the target market. Furthermore, the pocket clip is not just flimsy—it is far too thin, assuming it is actually made of titanium—and it is also grotesquely high. You could easily tuck the hem of a padded jacket underneath it. It is worth noting that while the clip can be repositioned, it cannot be moved from the right side to the left (which would have been sensible); instead, it can only be adjusted to switch the carry orientation from tip-up to tip-down. The latter is really only appropriate for very large folding knives—but more on that another time.
Beyond that, there are other minor flaws—for instance, the thumb studs, while functional, are positioned too far out on the blade, eating into the space available for the rather short cutting edge. Speaking of the edge, it has a pronounced "smile" (a curved, uneven grind) due to a poorly executed plunge line. Furthermore, the blade is far too thick behind the edge—around 0.6 mm on a small EDC knife—which is more appropriate for a large chopper.
I can see why this brand disappeared from the market. It’s an undersized, overpriced knife with a strange mix of materials and branding plastered absolutely everywhere. Add to that some sloppy grinding and an outdated steel choice. One might assume they chose VG-10 to signal that it was a Japanese knife, but the problem is that it wasn't made there at all—it was manufactured in Taichung, Taiwan.
Talk about a collection of errors!
/ J - examines culture clashes
