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...to n y..

....p a r ke r..

The importance to staying true.

Acknowledge that things are different now than when we were kids. Look around. The world gets more complicated and corrupted with every second. Technology has become the main factor of our everyday lives. Without it, many of us become (what we think of as) crippled. Money is our main motivation to most every goal that we aspire for. The funny thing is that these two outstanding “important� concepts have wickedly smiled at each other, and not only shaken hands but thrown their green, bloated tongues down each others metallic, microchipinfested throats and fucked each other raw. Power and control are the spawn of these two mating beasts. We are in danger of being consumed by what we strive for.

There are people that are the backbone of a community. If these people entrusted with leading the group are easily distracted, become corrupted, and/or revealed as simpletons with no real bearing, everyone suffers.

A new backbone must grow, a rebirth that starts from the ground up and has its core solid with values that represent the whole. This is what build communities. You cannot fake this. You might fool

your mother with your smugness, your employers with your ass kissing but you cannot pretend to be real - sleeping thru life.

Nothing starts until you start it. If you have read this mag before and trashed me - so what? What will people remember you for?

You should make some decisions and stop fear from running your life. Walk that line, get something done, and be true.

On the other hand, we are living in an exciting, special, and transitional time. We can connect and communicate with people all over the world with the click of a button.

We can research any bit of information that our brains so desire with the swipe of the mouse and slight movement of a finger. We are coming into contact with more like minding people that strive for progression on a more soulful level.

We are finding more and more people that are looking inward and realizing that we have the ability to create our own reality. The universe is not separate from ourselves. We live it, breathe it, everyday. It flows through our veins.

We are all connected, but if some people had their way it would be by wires.

Would the Buddha meditate while downloading music to an IPOD?

...t e s s....

Amazing how an entire summer can get boiled down to one single todo list. Seems neurotic, somehow cheapening the concept of summer.

But for me, it’s appropriate…and my thoughts will only organize in list form, no matter what I do.

-------------

mint juleps gardening wine tasting trips the beach sewing projects hiking seeing old friends two more weddings barbecues haircut cemetery picnics BBC dramas via Netflix

Nothing can beat a Richmond summer.

...i a

..p e te r.......

So we’ve had some set backs in terms of the website. Our guy left us. Unfortunately, none of us know MySQL or PHP coding. In last months WTF I outlined some of the things we were hoping to add to the site. We will still run the website as an online gallery of sorts but we won’t have the new layout to work with. I am also still accepting submissions for cartoons and photography based articles.

On another note, I’m leaving for Hungary in two weeks. The crazy part about it is that I will see my sister again after 15 years. In a way its weird that 95% of my family live in Hungary and I don’t know them.

I’m so used to not having a connection with them, I haven’t really felt the urge to go there until the past few years.

I encourage everyone to write, draw, and photograph while you are away on your adventures this summer. I would love to see submissions to the website about your travels. Be safe everyone!

n..

Imagine every moment of your life as you, standing on a path. Behind you, there is one path. This is your past, it cannot be changed. There is the ground under your feet.

This is the now. Ahead of you, well, this depends on where in your life you are. If you’re like me, at my point in life, there are many paths, that lead in very, very different directions. Some are steep, and narrow, some are wide, and easy. One day, however, the path in front of you will run out, your feet will stop moving, and you will be defined only by the choices you’ve made. Did you love? Did you hate? What did you learn?

pick & choose Outside the Village Cafe at HARRISON and W. GRACE ST.

- pennagolan @ hotmail.com

niki wallain

BORN UNDERGROUND - GALLERY 13

stefanie lutz - lutzs @vcu.edu

14 BORN UNDERGROUND - GALLERY

nikki painter

- npaint373@ hotmail.com BORN UNDERGROUND - GALLERY 15

16 BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT

all american ----->

mickael elliot broth I used to be a real evil-doer…I thought I had it all figured out. I spent years painting on things that I didn’t own, thinking of clever little ways to make fun of the masses, and rejecting my vibrant suburban family history. All that changed when, by the grace of God, I was arrested and given ten months to change my life. It was during these ten months, sharing cells with people convicted of violent crimes, spending thousands of dollars on restitution, and nearly being kicked out of school, that I realized just how much of a sinner I had been.

Since then I have turned my life around!! No longer do I want to stick a knife in my ears when I hear President Bush speak, I’ve accepted him as my personal savior. No longer does my heart fill with hatred when I think about the members of the Fan District Association who said that I got off easy with a ten-month jail sentence for graffiti. They were right! I should have been locked away for at least a few years…after all, there really is nothing more important than property.

I’m very excited to have the chance to write this statement. I was afraid that after my arrest, my precious reputation would be ruined. After all, I had disgraced myself, my friends, and worst of all, VCU. Thankfully, I’ve been able to distance myself from all of that, and people have given me a chance to redeem myself. The only thing I’m disappointed about is that I must share this issue with my former co-conspirators, Jim Callahan and the heathens at DayByDay. I try not to speak ill of others, but I feel that the general public must know these things. Jim Callahan, or as he prefers, Barf, is a Satan worshiper. As those with a long memory will recall, Style Weekly once reported that Jim likes to kill neighborhood cats and use their blood to write his names on the cat owner’s trash BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT 17

can. So foul!! And let me just say one thing about Dave and Will of DayByDay, they are the two biggest dicks in the world!! If you want proof, just watch their new video Teenagers from Uranus for shocking footage of their vile and blasphemous deeds.

I get so sick of hearing my former comrades, graffiti taggers, try to defend what they do by saying it’s just one color of paint over another. As if!! Graffiti is a sign that a neighborhood is out of control and it is the gateway crime to drug dealing and murder. If there is a murder that occurs, then logically there must be some graffiti nearby which caused it. Doesn’t it just make sense?

But that is all beside the point…nowadays I just want to settle down. I’m thinking about going back to school for business or maybe marketing. Then after I graduate again, I can move into one of those posh new lofts with the breathtaking river view and work for a really big corporation that will provide me with security and peace of mind. I’d really love to be content with my lot.

Well until I find a job where I make tons of money exploiting others, I’ll continue to try to make it as an artist. But no more stencil paintings and shoddily-built canvases for me… I’ll be making nice, clean, black and white drawings. I feel that they represent the world we live, in where people are either righteous Americans or evil rag-head terrorists. I’ve given up on incorporating evil, thought-provoking meaning into my work. I want to make art that is heart-warming and meaningless, like the work of my heroes Thomas Kincaid and Nick Kuszyk. The world inside my drawings might look complicated and multi-layered, but just like real-life, it’s actually simple and should just be taken at face value. The last thing I want to do is make something that offends anyone.

Actually, I’ve taken the first steps to becoming a model American white-man: I’ve married my high school sweetheart and together we’ve started our own small business (ha…this is probably the first thing I’ve written in this statement that hasn’t been complete sarcasm). WiltedRoses.com might be a small-time deal right now, but as soon as we trick the youth into thinking we’re legitimately from the streets, we’ll be cashing in. One day some big corporation is going to offer us millions of dollars for distribution rights and we’ll say, “Show me the money!!” Although, I guess it would be “us” and not “me.” But the point is we can’t wait to sell out. Then we can move to the suburbs and vote republican in peace. Jebus willing, it will happen.

BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT 19

mr. cabell’s richmond words : Don Harrison

“(Richmond’s) professional men and our business men have always been the custodians of our culture.”

— Author James Branch Cabell, 1947 “I’m not a patron of the arts -- at all” — Beverley “Booty” Armstrong, former board member for the Richmond Arts Council & VA Performing Arts Foundation, 2005

Richmond writer James Branch Cabell became famous for penning the only octodecalogy — an 18-volume epic — in American writing, but the author’s ambitious 50-book bibliography is too-seldom thumbed these days. The good man’s name may grace the main library at Richmond’s Virginia Commonwealth University, only blocks from where he was born and where he died. But few beyond academics have committed Cabell’s elaborately-plotted, floridly metaphorical, quaintly-erotic prose to memory. Today, he’s best remembered for coining a quote book mainstay about the difference between optimism and pessimism — not as the author of books such as Jurgen and These Restless Heads .

If you are familiar with the other side of James Branch Cabell — the social critic of Richmond who never flinched from calling it like he saw it — you know that he had plenty of witticisms in his repertoire. His book, The Rivets in Grandfather’s Neck , serenely explores contemporary Virginia life. And Let Me Lie , Cabell’s “ethnological account of the remarkable Commonwealth of Virginia” is a satiric achievement worthy of a southern Mencken (the thought!); filled with observations that reveal a proud son’s optimism alongside the cursings of a pessimist who knows his hometown all too goddamn well. The book (reprinted by the University Press of Virginia) more than just holds up as a gloriously colorful rant — its stinging criticisms can offer up a window of clarity on today’s Virginia.

In the book, Cabell hones in on such topics as the dominating influence 20 don harrison also writes for saverichmond.com

of the Negro nanny on white culture... the shallow tourism of Colonial Williamsburg... unproved myths of the Confederacy... and the sad state of Virginia arts and literature.

It is with the latter subject that this grandson of a former Virginia governor, a well-bred man of literature, scores his most prescient bull’s-eyes.

He points his unwavering finger at the Virginia gentlemen throughout history, many in his own class, who condescend to the arts, who don’t understand the arts, who wouldn’t be caught dead associating with artists or their ilk, but who nevertheless, for centuries, have been self-appointed as the gatekeepers of the arts. “(Richmond’s) professional men and our business men have always been the custodians of our culture,” he writes. “The main, the official, promotion of every humane art has been entrusted, without fail to this or the other coterie of highly estimable tax payers in the higher brackets who, despite their many virtues...know very little, or else precisely nothing, about that special art that was their protégé.”

In a most memorable chapter, “Mr. Ritchie’s Richmond,” he transports us to a dinner that the city’s “best people” had thrown for a visiting Charles Dickens, soon after the author of Great Expectations met struggling writer Edgar Allan Poe in 1842. At the same time the rich arts patrons of Richmond were hosting their distinguished British guest in high style, poor Poe was being “forced to leave Richmond rather than starve in Richmond,” writes Cabell.

Presiding over Dickens’ swanky dinner was one Mr. Thomas Ritchie, a semi-retired newspaper editor whose introductory speech revealed that no one here really knew who Dickens was: they didn’t read his books, know his world. But they couched this ignorance in a veil of superiority, affluence and Virginia pride. Tellingly, there was no local artist, no noteworthy Richmond man of letters, in attendance at this dinner. “We have no Washington Irving to grace the chair,” Mr. Ritchie is quoted apologizing to Dickens. “(That’s) because the forte of the Old Dominion is to be found in the masculine production of her statesmen, her Washington, her Jefferson, and her Madison, who have never indulged in works

of imagination, in the charms of romance, or in the mere beauties of the belles lettres .”

“The exact trick of it lies in that ‘mere,’” Cabell wrote with a sneer.

“One may be wholly certain that when Mr. Ritchie, speaking without anguish, commented upon the paucity of fine writers in and about the dining room of the Exchange Hotel, he was not thinking about Edgar Allan Poe…young Mr. Poe was beyond the consideration of Richmond’s elite, in any and all capacities,” Cabell writes. Poe “was, in a word — ‘tacky.’”

“We who can enjoy nowadays the products of Poe’s genius without being concerned with his personality do reprehend Richmond,” Cabell summarizes. “We dwell, with an appropriate scorn, upon the smug Pharisaic obtuseness of Mr. Thomas Ritchie... we remark fleetingly upon Virginia’s customary neglect of genius until a while after any possible tribute takes the form of a tombstone.”

More than a century and a half later, “the arts” in Richmond are still being patronized by the descendants of Thomas Ritchie, only the club is officially called an Arts Council. Those determining what is and isn’t art are learned arts authorities from such institutions as Bank of America, LandAmerica and Wachovia; the board of authority is represented disproportionately by businessmen. One, Mr. Beverly “Booty” Armstrong of CCA Enterprises, has admitted several times in the press that he has no interest in, no knowledge of, the arts. Why “Booty” would be among those consistently entrusted with dispersing money to the area’s worthwhile visual, literary and performing artists of Richmond is a question Cabell wrestled with nearly 60 years ago, along with other writers: “When a state or a city organizes — in Edith Wharton’s agreeable phrase — ‘to pursue culture in bands, as if it were highly dangerous,’ why, then the machinery of the resultant organization needs, it is obvious, to be handled by persons who are familiar with the chicane of all organizations. That is logic... and yet, just somehow, this mechanical hunting down of culture does fail, in Virginia at any rate, to produce art of noteworthy importance.”

Patronage in the arts is essential, Cabell wasn’t doubting this. But true patronage requires interest, knowledge and — above all — a sense of what art really is to truly work. He surmised that Richmond’s “culture in bands” patronage created, not great art, but “in large numbers, art’s patron and apologist... Mr. Thomas Ritchie.”

The hometown writer would be angry, but not surprised, to learn that today, entire boards of directors are teeming with contemporary Thomas Ritchies,administering and judging culture — some of them genuinely interested (just because you work for a bank doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate great art), some don’t even attend the meetings. Cabell would no doubt pose this query to them: “If Mr. Ritchie’s condescending and exclusionary excuse for the state of the arts in 1842 — and the absence of actual artists at the party — was that the commonwealth of Virginia was too busy indulging its political visionaries, what is the excuse today, from our contemporary Mr. Ritchies? The forte of the Old Dominion is to be found in the masculine production of her statesmen, her Eric Cantor, her George Allen, and her Tim Kaine...!”

Not as persuasive, is it?

“The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds,” he had written famously, “and the pessimist fears that this true.” Cabell had his publisher release his acidic polemic while he vacationed in Florida, hoping to avoid the controversy he was sure would follow.

But this was not the best of all possible worlds — the very people in Richmond he hoped would be scandalized by his essays didn’t even bother to read the book. And, as R.H.W Dillard writes in the foreword to the new edition, “most reviewers missed the double meaning of the book’s title. Deaf to James Branch Cabell’s many-layered ironic wit, they read the book as a paean to the old South.” But to understand why the arts and artists are so little valued and trusted among our gatekeepers, among many other things, the crackin’ Let Me Lie — and “Mr. Ritchie’s Richmond” — remains a required read.

BORN UNDERGROUND - ESSAY 21

T I M O T H A E L M

H A

Y M I C R T I N

I dismantled my toys as a child, reconfiguring the pieces or combining them with other toys. My background in construction work, specifically the trade of plumbing, heightened my interest in diagrams, schematics, maps and mechanical drawings. I have been around blueprints and the skeletal structure of architecture from a very young age. A curiosity about the internal structure of things and how they operate still exists to this day.

My paintings meld geometric abstraction with personal representation creating quirky, vibrant worlds. The result is an idiosyncratic hybrid that evokes animation, imaginary scientific propositions, blueprints, maps, and advancing technologies. The work combines these interests with the prosaic interactions of my daily experience. Isolated events provide found compositions which I then begin to manipulate: a seemingly mundane bike ride gets mapped into a well-ordered schematic of social interaction.

A palette of optically-vibrant hues animates the elements of each painting. Provoking sight at the initial stage of perception in order to captivate the viewer, I invent unusual abstractions that question utopian or dystopian societal views.

My paintings are based on general principles or theories combined with specific instances creating broken narratives that complete in a myriad of ways. Line, shape, surface, color, shifts in scale, and disjunctive perspectives emerge as a symbolic language that conveys the complexity of human experience.

22 BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT

BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT 23

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BORN UNDERGROUND - STATEMENT 25

26 BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW

with jim callahan I have known Jim for years. Quiet, unassuming illustrator when in the studio - half-raving man-child at a good party. Not sure if he is responsible for our city’s low brow aesthetic or it was here before him but he has defined it.

BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW 27

R. Anthony Harris For people that haven’t seen your work, you are obsessed with zombies. Where does this come from?

Jim Callahan I don’t know, really. Give the people what they want, I guess. I get far more requests for gross, dead crap than I come up with on my own. I think it started with the intent to gross people out, but it turns out most people are far too desensitized by way more messed-up shit than I could ever draw.

RAH Did you like the Evil Dead movies?

JC Does the Pope shit in the woods? A friend of mine gave some copies of Strange Detective Tales to Bruce Campbell at a signing. After being told there were zombies in it, Campbell said, “zombies are slow and boring.” Is nothing sacred?

RAH How about the Romero horror movies (i.e. Day of The Dead, Night Of the Living Dead, etc.)? I saw this stuff when I was 10 and it really fucked with me.

JC Bummer. I really dig the original Night of the Living Dead. You know, the black and white one from ‘68. I mean, let’s face it, everything after that is just a knock-off, be it good or bad. “They’re coming for you, Barbara.”

RAH If you were a zombie, what would you be thinking about? Brains? Sex? Sex with brains?

JC I don’t think zombies are self-aware. That’s why they’re so sweet for guilt-free murdering the shit out of.

RAH If I were a cupcake, what would you do to me?

JC I guess if you were like most cupcakes I’ve met, I would either eat your top and throw the rest away, or I’d be like, “Nah, I’m cool.”

RAH No doubt. Just checking. You have a cat character with a knife in its head on one of your earlier logos. This character is also in your illustration on the cover. If I were to interview him/her/it, what would we talk about?

JC You would both probably talk about me behind my back, and that prick would most likely spread more of his lies, but he only says that I stole his collector’s edition Monopoly game because he still owes me bill money. And 28 BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW

no matter what he says, HE is the one with the drinking problem and those are HIS pills.

RAH Do you have names for your characters?

JC Yeah, some. The main character in the graphic novel I just finished is Milton Bloom. I guess I only name things if its necessary for the story. The book is called Rotting In Dirtville and some of the other character names are Betsy and Russell Haymaker, Scotty “Scabs” Sinclair, Barbara Radio, Big Victor Stackyard, and Jojo Dick.

RAH Why is your dog is always wearing an eye patch?

JC He knows what he goddam did.

RAH Do you have something you want to tell us about your childhood?

JC I wore sweatpants A LOT. And I was a total dumbass.

RAH On to less serious questions: your current project, Strange Detective Tales from Oddgod Press, has drawn good reviews from the comic book community. Can you give us some background into the project? How did it start and where is it going?

JC It is a horror/noir/comedy that puts Dracula’s Renfield and Frankenstein’s Igor as private eyes in a secret monster community in the late fifties in LA. Jesse Bausch is really the mastermind behind this thing. I think he wrote a lot of it based around what he knew I’d like to draw, and he did a great job. This is a three-issue miniseries, but there are plans for future books.

RAH Have you done any other Oddgod titles?

JC I did shorts for Oddgod Anthology 1 and 2, and for Big,

Dumb Fun. RAH Do you consider your work low-brow?

JC I consider low-brow my work.

RAH How many Richmond bands have you made images for? What work are you the proudest of?

JC 20? 30? Somewhere in there. I actually don’t do that much local work...mostly a lot of Florida, California, and New York groups. The work I’m the most stoked on is a DayByDay shirt I just finished. It’s got a guy with a butt for a face, a mustache, and a monocle riding a snake with tits that has a rooster/centaur body and a chainsaw tongue. It’s pretty smart.

RAH You went to VCU the same time I did. Why do I run a magazine?

JC I don’t know, I guess you didn’t have enough antisocial nerd in you for comics.

RAH Do you think VCU prepared you for the business of illustration?

JC No, but that’s my fault. I was told everything I would run into, but it still caught me with my pants down. Basically, it only becomes a job when you treat it like a job. You jerk around with your buddies, and you end up spending all your time drawing free show posters for some two-bit garage bands that break up in two weeks. You keep track of your shit and are up-front with people, and then you get paid to do what you dig.

Check out more of Jim’s work at www.nowhereskateboards. com and www.barfcomics.com.

BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW 31

avail unplugged: the best show words + image - Ian Graham

I sat down with Tim Barry on the curb outside of the Nanci Raygun, a few hours before RVA’s heroes Avail were to open, as a surprise guest for Lucero.

Ian Montgomery Graham Y’all are from Reston, is that right?

Tim Barry Yeah, we all moved down here in ’89.

IMG What was the transition between Lookout! Records and Fat Wreck Chords like?

TB It was pretty simple. Avail has always kept our business side pretty simple. We kept the tradition of how we worked with Lookout! -- we did single-record contracts, so we weren’t tied to the record label in any way. And when we decided to leave Lookout! Records and find another label, I just called Michael from Fat Wreck Chords and said, “Do you want to put out an Avail record?” and he said “Sure,” and I asked if he minded doing a one-record contract, and he said “Sure.” Some people were really stoked that we did it, some people were unhappy -- but we made the decision ourselves, and we were happy with it, and that’s what really matters. It’s been such a long time now…

IMG It’s all history now?

TB Yeah, it is what it is.

IMG What was the decision that prompted the switch?

TB Lookout! wasn’t really living up to their capability. They had just had Green Day blow up, and they disregarded people’s money, and started making poor business decisions with investments and the such; in fact, Avail just pulled all of its back catalogue from Lookout! Records -- which is Dixie, 4AM Friday, and Over the James -- and all of our other stuff that was lingering on that label, and it’s all been reissued

by Jade Tree Records from Delaware. So all of that has been re-done, remastered, repackaged…and so now, Lookout! Records and Avail no longer have a relationship, musically, but we are all still friends.

IMG Do you get involved in politics at all?

TB The band? No. Me? I’ve always been a person who follows politics closely, and participated in events which I feel worthy. I can leave it at that, because I don’t have a stance.

IMG Your solo stuff is very different, and yet very similar to Avail.

TB If you break down Avail songs, and tonight’s a perfect example, we’ve never done this before but we’re going to play acoustic tonight.

Almost every song we’re playing tonight was originally written on acoustic guitar, and then transferred end, that’s how we write about half of our songs -- acoustic and vocals -- and then translate into Avail. And, of course, we collaborate, and make lots of noise, and do it that way, too -- we all write; there is definitely not one writer in the band. I’ve always written songs on acoustic guitar, and a handful of them wouldn’t flow with Avail, and so I accidentally fell into doing these solo shows. My sister Caitlyn and Josh Small play with me -- they’re both very talented, Josh is playing tonight, actually.

The solo work is definitely a lot of fun; I just got back from Europe. We did an Avail tour, I came home for one day, and I’ve been in Europe for the last two weeks touring solo over there. I did Germany, Italy, and the UK. IMG Was it well-received?

TB It was a trip, it was awesome. It was exactly what I anticipated -- twenty to maybe seventy people a night, playing in places the size of Empire Lounge, or Hole in the Wall. I told the booking company to find the dirtiest, smallest dive bars or squats or whatever they could book me in, and I’ll just go play -- and it turned out to be a really great time. I’m so happy to be home now [emphasis: honesty]. Now that I’m home -- I’ve been home since Tuesday, we’re playing this show tonight [Friday, 5.19.06], then play tomorrow, then go out with Drag the River for a bit, until Wednesday, then I’m taking a break. Mid-June, record the solo record, for Suburban Home Records. In the meantime, Avail shows off and on, and then Avail’s going on a short run with Rancid in July, in 34 BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW

Florida. Then we go to Australia in October, and in between all of that we’ll be writing a record, and doing one-off shows and, well, whatever else we decide to do. Basically, I work all winter, and then travel all summer. I’m very lucky, I’m 35 years old, and I’ve kept that rhythm for a long time!

IMG is there a definitive Richmond scene, or sound?

TB I don’t know if it’s a scene, or a sound… I’d prefer to call it, as hippie as it sounds, a vibe. Bands like Municipal Waste, VCR, Strike Anywhere, Avail, Homemade Knives, Josh Small, Liza Kate, all of these bands contrast in sound, but they all have a really good vibe. It’s driven more by the energy and feel of the music, rather than a particular sound.

That’s how I like to think about Richmond. Being lucky enough to travel the country and the world pretty consistently, I don’t think people in Richmond realize how much focus people put on this city. We think of it as small and incestuous, but outside of here, people are like “How are there so many great bands coming from this one town? ” We really do get a lot of attention, “we” meaning Richmond, and it’s a really nice thing. The fact that tonight, we’re playing with Lucero -- the reason Lucero is here, in Richmond, is to record. They’re here, doing these two shows, and then recording for the next few weeks, over there at Sound of Music. They’re from Memphis. There are plenty of legendary recording facilities in Memphis and Nashville, and they’ve chosen to come to Richmond -- and that makes me both proud, and excited for the city, to know that people come from other places to spend time here. It has to do with…there’s good folks here. You can ride around on a bike.

They can stay with us.

IMG So Richmond is still that kind of place, where you can ride your bike around with a case of PBR? TB Shit, that’s all I do! I don’t even really go to bars- I don’t have a lot of money. I live in Oregon Hill. I like to sit on my porch and see the people go by, or go down to the river with beers and friends. Man… I love this city.

IMG I heard the band was having a problem with health insurance?

TB I don’t want to get too much into that… let’s just say this. Avail used to take our Lookout! Records royalty checks, and put them into a pool for health insurance for the guys in the band and their families, and when Lookout! stopped paying us, we lost our health insurance. It’s a little more complex than that, that’s the simple answer to it. Now, we’re like any normal person, where you have to pay for your own insurance, or get a job that provides it. I don’t have health insurance.

IMG Do you think that reflects a nationwide trend?

TB It’s a nationwide trend that we don’t have health insurance? It’s an atrocity. Go anywhere else, and they have socialized health care. I just spent two weeks in Europe, and people are blown away that we have to pay five hundred dollars a month to provide basic health coverage for two people -- a father and his daughter, or something like that.

It’s…bizarre.

IMG How do you feel the hardcore scene influenced or changed the town?

TB I don’t know. It’s a tough question. I’m kind of like an inside outsider on that, and it’s hard for me to answer a question like that. It inspired me, when I was young, to see bands like Four Walls Falling playing at Twisters, where there is a legacy of all these great bands.

IMG When was the last time Avail played at this venue, where so many legendary bands played?

TB It’s wonderful. We played here maybe three or four years ago, right when they re-opened as the Nanci Raygun, a couple of shows.

And they’re doin’ a fuckin’ great job. If it wasn’t for them, it would’ve been shut down, and it was called 929 or something like that, before them. It’s just great that people put in the effort -- I certainly don’t have the energy to run a club. It’s easy for me to criticize venues, but in the end, these people work their fuckin’ asses off to keep people

like us entertained, and keep us band guys and girls on their stage and whatnot, so it’s a true pleasure to have places like this, and Alley Katz, and Empire and Mojo’s. I do miss places like Hole in the Wall, where you could sit down and watch someone just kick ass on an acoustic, or smaller bands with thirty people at a show, and the venue is packed.

IMG What places in Richmond are still like that?

TB Definitely places like Empire.

IMG Empire, yeah, and I’ve seen a lot of great small shows at the Hollywood Grill.

TB Yeah, that’s right behind my house. I think they’ve changed their policy; they only do acoustic shows over there now, because it’s really a burden on the neighborhood to have really loud bands, and then a hundred punks falling out into the streets breaking bottles and shit. I could hear it from my house, a block away.

IMG How’d the last tour go?

TB Fuck! It went so good. I don’t know why we’re so lucky. I don’t know how… the style of music we play was supposed to be a passing fad.

Y’know what I mean? You’re supposed to grow out of it. But the last tour we did… fuck, it was so much fun. We went with the Pink Razors, from here in Richmond, and we were with The Draft, which is the guys who use to be in Hot Water Music, from down in Gainesville. On the end of the tour, we had Smoke or Fire, originally Jericho. The camaraderie on the road was pretty intense. The shows were fucking insane, and it’s just neat to play for your peers, too. The crowds ran from about twenty years old to about forty, so unlike the sort of kinder-style of punk and hardcore music fans, we’re sort of lucky to have peers in our audiencefuckin’ great time. The Richmond show on the last date of the tour was just a blow-out, it was amazing. I can’t…I don’t know how we got so lucky.

IMG I had a fuckin’ blast at the show.

BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW 35

TB It was a great tour. I feel real privileged, real lucky, especially to be playing with all these guys that I’ve been playing with forever. Now, tonight will be a whole new thing, I don’t know how we’re going to do it.

IMG Y’all have never played an acoustic set before?

TB Nope.

IMG that’s interesting, because I hear a lot of kinda protest folk influence in your music…it seems to me that since I’ve become aware of punk, you know, punk’s been around a lot longer than I have, but there’s a lot of pretension… Avail’s always seemed like much more…“basic” sounds like almost a derogatory term but -TB No, it’s not, it’s okay -- it’s the same three chords everybody else plays. It’s how you approach it, and how you deliver it that makes it different.

IMG Do you think that Avail’s approach is what makes it different from the rest of punk?

TB I don’t think…Honestly, I don’t think that much about music. It’s more of a feeling, than a thing that…there’s different kind of people that play music, like, there’s Wilco, and they really focus on how they’re going to do it, they think about it, and they’re obviously very in-depth with the craft of their songwriting. We’re very straightforward. We say, “Does it feel good? Does it sound like an Avail song? Okay.” And so then beyond that, there’s

not a lot of discussion. But that makes it hard, because when someone says, “How do you approach writing music? ” -- and when I say “approach,” I mean more like “How you do it on stage? ” -- I just can’t talk about music. It’s hard. It’s hard to even figure out how we write it, or why…[laughs] IMG I hear that.

TB And I don’t like to think about it, because then as soon as you start to think about how you’re gonna write a song, and what you want it to sound like, then it’s not going to work! [laughs] IMG If you’ve already got the sound in your mind, it’ll never sound right?

TB Yeah, and then, I’m like, fuck it.

The show was one of the best performances I’ve ever seen. In case you missed it, a summary: Avail played a quick set of favorites that translated incredibly well. Half of the crowd sang along, and then Lucero opened up a can of whoop-ass. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and if you missed it… I’m sorry.

war hammers & headscarves: a conversation with lucero Words: Erin E. Bryant image : Ian Graham

Over the past ten years, Lucero has gotten the art of rock and roll pretty much down. The Memphis-based quartet has released five albums, been the subject of two documentaries, and toured with everyone from Avail and Against Me! to the Breeders. Singer Ben Nichols delivers his unflinchingly honest lyrics in a voice that portrays too many nights of bourbon and cigarettes. Set against the backdrop of Brian Venable’s gritty guitar solos, John C. Stubblefield’s subtle bass and Roy Berry’s pounding drums, it’s the kind of music that makes you want to spend the night drinking a bottle of whiskey, causing a ruckus, and then drunk-dialing your ex.

Simply put, it’s good rock and roll.

I sat down with three of the four boys from Tennessee to discuss the direction of their next album, an upcoming tour with Murder by Death, and whether or not Lynard Skynard could Kick Mötley Crüe’s ass.

BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW 39 RVA VOL.2 ISSUE 2 / MUSIC 41

Erin Bryant How did you all choose Richmond and the Sound of Music to record this new record?

Brian Venable Because we love Richmond and Richmond is so amazing.

EB Well, obviously…

Ben Nichols We ah, well, how did we? Oh, we met David Lowery at the Nanci Raygun, he came to one of the shows and he was a fan, and he came up to us after the show and said “You know, all of us at the studio really like y’all. Just keep [Sound of Music studios] in mind.” And then Gary [Crump (Lucero’s Tour Manager)] got a job going out with Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker, going out on tour with them while we were off. So we got to know David Lowery really well. Then some friends of ours, The American Princes, recorded here not too long ago so it just kind of seemed like the natural choice. I don’t know. We hadn’t done too much research as far as finding a studio or a producer. We didn’t really debate too much about it. It just sort of seemed the natural place to go.

Everything just kind of fell into place.

BV This is the first time we’ve ever done a record outside of the Memphis area. I mean, Coldwater is twenty minutes away. This is the first time we’re not going to be able to go home. You know, we’re actually going to be able to be here. Get up in the morning and go to work.

BN Yeah, that’s the plan. It was just an opportunity to do something we hadn’t done before. Just live at the studio and make a record.

EB And you all brought on a keyboard player for this album?

BN Yeah, Rick Steff. He’s played with a bunch of folks. Yeah, an amazing keyboard player. He’s just got stories about everything and everyone.

BV He’s just been hanging out, playing with us. I mean, our songs aren’t that hard, but he’s been picking them up really well.

BN But yeah, accordion player, keyboard player. He’ll be all over the next record. But yeah, he’s played with Hank Jr., and he’s on Cat Power’s 40 BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW

new record. He’s been on tour with her.

Roy Berry He played on Cory Branan’s new record.

BN With Nobody’s Darlings , we wanted to make a record that was stripped down and pretty much almost a live record. On this one we wanted to branch out a little more and not worry about trying to reproduce it exactly the same on tour. Just make a good record.

EB So are you going to take Rick out when you go on tour with Murder By Death this summer?

BN Um, we’re doing a June tour, but I think he’s going to be on tour with Cat Power. But maybe in the future. We’d love to have him with us. We might be able to steal Rick back in the fall.

EB You all tend to choose really different bands to tour with, for example, you’re touring this summer with Murder by Death , which is a completely different genre from you, but you’ve also done tours with The Breeders , Ted Leo and the Pharmacists , and Avail .

BN I guess; we’ve done some tours like the Drag the River tour which kind of made sense. But they’re more straight forward country rock. I think Lucero as a band is such a weird combination of influences. We’ve got a little bit of this and a little bit of that, which makes it possible to tour with a wide variety of bands.

BV I guess that’s where we’re trying to just be a rock band. We’re not an alt-country band, we’re not a… you know… that kind of thing. A bunch of people may not like us, but a bunch of people do like us. I don’t think we hear the twang anymore. I’ve had a lot of people come up and talk to me, and go “I don’t usually like country…” and I’m like “well, you probably still don’t….”

BN Yeah, it’s like “Don’t worry. You haven’t changed.” We’re not that country. The thing is, you’re not stuck playing to one certain type of crowd, and you’re not dependent on one certain type of crowd.

BV I think that’s what we wanted to do.

EB So what direction are you going with the new album?

BN Well, you know, we start recording day after tomorrow, and we’ve got about seven songs. And those are pretty much the rocker songs.

We’ve got plenty of fast songs, that’s for sure. We’ll have a number of slow songs as well. In that respect, it’ll be a lot like Nobody’s Darlings .

It’s definitely going to be a rock and roll record with some slower parts.

But, hopefully this one, we’ll be able to spend a little more time with the songs, and embellish where it’s appropriate. It’ll be a more lush version of Nobody’s Darlings .

EB And are you going to be approaching any of the songs from the third person perspective?

BN Well…not yet. But I still have three or four songs to write, so maybe.

EB “Bikeriders” turned out really well for your first third-person perspective song.

BN “Bikeriders” definitely turned out really well. I don’t have one of those yet though. I haven’t written any of the really emotional heartfelt songs for this record yet. I’m hoping I get around to that soon. We’re working on them though. I think, though, that this is a big old building and I can find a nice dark place where I can get that done. I mean, “Sweet Little Thing” I wrote the night before we recorded it, and there are a number of songs I’ve written right before we record them. I’ve been able to…

BV Pull it out of our ass?

BN (laughing) Well, that’s what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to say it out loud.

BV Well that’s the best thing about being here. We’re immersed in recording this album. We’re not going home. This is life for the next two weeks. Like last night, Rick came back after the show and played piano until five in the morning, down in the studio, just goofing around. But

there’s no one around really, so we can come home drunk as hell or not drunk as hell, and go down into the studio and work on people’s parts and track stuff. I mean, we’re living this and when we leave, we will have a record.

EB Last question, and please think this over really carefully. Who’s going to win in a fight, both musically and physically: Lynard Skynard or Mötley Crüe?

BN Oh. Yep. Brian warned us about this question. Roy! Take it!

RB Uhhhh…

BN The correct answer to that question is “Yes” BV Purple!

RB Well, if you take it on a song by song battle, it’s Skynard. I think that there’s really not too much after the first three records of Mötley Crüe.

BV And you have to look at that last album Skynard put out before Ronnie died is possibly their best album. That record was an amazing record.

RB Now in a physical battle? If Lynard Skynard came back from the dead…

BN I think Lynard Skynard would clean up.

RB Against Mötley Crüe? Maybe if the Crue had guns… or war hammers…

BN I don’t think they would.

BV War hammers are a pretty flashy weapon. I could see Mötley Crüe tying scarves to them or something…

You can check out more about Lucero at the website: http://www. luceromusic.com, or on the Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/lucero BORN UNDERGROUND - INTERVIEW 41

trying to break my heart?

WILCO: LIVE AT WILLIAM & MARY

words & image: Sean Patrick Rhorrer

It wasn’t until a few days before Wilco were scheduled to perform at William & Mary that I convinced myself (with some help from my friends) that I should make an effort to attend. Larger venue shows (or would the word “concert” be more fitting?) have never really appealed to me, with their lack of intimacy I’ve been spoiled to expect from years of underground music. Seeing any band, even one I get excited about, in a gymnasium never sounds like a good idea.

After biting the bullet about my only chance to see Wilco being in this college gym setting, I made arrangements to go and eagerly awaited the opportunity to hear some of their great songs live. Not being as much a fan of their newest album and really liking their collaboration with Billy Bragg best, I did worry I wouldn’t hear many of my Wilco favorites, yet I was sure it would still be awesome. Unfortunately, I really should have trusted my initial instinct not to attend, as the night would prove to be less than impressive.

Upon arriving at William & Mary, that sinking feeling of disappointment already began to set in. The venue turned out to be as large and cavernous as I had dreaded it might be and the throngs of could-care-less college kids (who all got in for a mere $10 compared to the normal ticket price of $25) had my friends and I already preparing for what was sure to come. Once inside, it became clear that students were being given preferential treatment, given the right to access the somewhat small standing area between the stage and the seats. While I completely understand why the school would do this, having paid a higher ticket price and getting less for it just didn’t seem fair.

It wasn’t until we got settled that someone went to scope out the merch and noticed that a Dischord band, French Toast, were the opening act. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, some research afterwards revealed that the band features ex-Nation Of Ulysses/Make-Up member James Canty.

42 BORN UNDERGROUND - REVIEW

Had I known this before they took the stage, I might not have been as ready for the extra long set of pure crap I was about to endure, instead actually expecting something decent. Despite their musical downfalls, I will give French Toast credit for swapping instruments throughout their set...I think each member of the trio played every instrument during at least one song. If nothing else, it was remotely interesting to see this stage show.

Now that we were all completely geared up for disappointment, on came Wilco to fulfill our worst fears. As they began to play through their set, it became obvious they had no intentions of tapping their oldest material, instead sticking heavily to songs from A Ghost Is Born and a few from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot . While I thoroughly enjoyed the latter, I guess it’s to be expected they’d play a bulk of their newest material, even if it’s not what we would have chosen to hear. Sadly, no songs from their work with Bragg were included in the set.

What was most upsetting about Wilco’s performance didn’t even really involve the set list. Unfortunately, the band felt the need to turn even great songs I love into ten minute jam sessions, resembling Phish more than I could stomach. After talking to someone who attended both the William & Mary show and the one in Charlottesville, it seems they might have “jammed” up their set a bit more for the college crowd, but doesn’t that still make it lame? Maybe even more so? Not to mention the jock jams-esque call-outs singer Jeff Tweedy did throughout the set...

Not very often do I see a band I own multiple albums from and wish I’d never gone. This was one of those rare occurrences and sadly, Wilco might never be the same in my mind because of it. I just hope next time I put on some of their music I can listen without hearing them encourage the crowd to make crazy yelling noises in the back of my mind.

Sean Patrick Rhorer is Editor-In-Chief : sparkplugg.com and also writes freelance for HM Magazine : AMP Magazine : Hails & Horns Magazine : Rock Sound [UK]

all, the poet must not only write well, but she or he must perform their piece in a way that is pleasing to the audience; secondly, poets must express their art within three strict guidelines of competition (it must be the poet’s own work, the poet cannot use props, costume or music and there is a three-minute time limit), which begs the question “is this art or is this competition?” That last part often deters spoken word poets from participating in the slam, and has given birth to the misnomer of “slam” as a form of poetry.

SlamRichmond bridges the gap between expression and competition by starting the evening with an open mic, where poets who choose not to slam have their say; while poets in the slam may choose poems to give the audience what it wants, the poets performing during open mic often let their poetry run free.

slamrichmond SlamRichmond kicked off its inaugural season in March on its quest to select Richmond’s first ever team to compete in the National Poetry Slam in August.

And just what is a slam team? This year, it will be five Richmond spoken word artists who will write, memorize and perform poetry to be scored by randomly-selected audience members…only instead of competing with one another, they’ll work together to compete against teams from across the country, Canada and Europe.

Part Athenian democracy, part art and part three-ring circus, poetry slams have captivated and inspired writers, poets and artists with their diversity, eccentricity and electricity. Born in 1986 in Chicago, the poetry slam presents poets with more than one double-edged sword: First of 44 BORN UNDERGROUND - LOCAL HAPPENINGS

But don’t expect pandering at a poetry slam. For example, at SlamRichmond V on May 15, a poet called Rasul (the nobody) Elder, the leading poet going into the final round, delivered a graphic poem told from the perspective of an aborted fetus. After a few quiet moments, the judges scored it the top poem of the night, and Elder went home the winner, and $50 richer that night. Second place wins $25 and third wins $10.

SlamRichmond’s sixth and final qualifier is on Monday, June 5, and the Championship Invitational, where poets will compete for one of the five spots on the team, will be held Monday, June 19. Visit www.myspace. com/slamrichmond for information on the July and August events, including a scrimmage between the Richmond and Washington, D.C. teams.

And SlamRichmond will return for the 2006-2007 in September, with as many as three events per month, featured spoken word artists on tour and rotating hosts – since I’m a host and I plan to compete next year.

life’s low points. Bailey’s main songwriting concern is how people try to maintain a realistic sense of hope in the face of life’s worst difficulties.

This concern is reflected in the five songs that comprise the EP. After several months of recording by himself, Bailey formed a backing band, the Humans, calling on some of Richmond’s most seasoned musicians. John Gotschalk plays the keyboards and sings backing vocals in the Humans. John led Richmond’s power-pop sensation The Knievels and has performed and recorded with Brooklyn’s One Ring Zero; he is currently the keyboard player for NRGKRYS and guitarist for surf-rock group The Red Hot Lava Men. Johnny Hott is a well-known Richmond drummer whose past endeavors have included House of Freaks and Gutterball, as well as performances and recordings with Cracker and Sparklehorse. Johnny now leads The Piedmont Souprize. Corey Waldrop plays both upright and electric bass with a variety of Richmond jazz and funk groups. While a senior in high school, he won the prestigious Louis Armstrong Award for Jazz Excellence. He is currently a student at Virginia Commonwealth University.

introducing ----------> timothy bailey & the humans

Timothy Bailey and The Humans will have their live debut at Ashland Coffee & Tea on Friday, July 14, 2006. For more information, see their website at www.timothybaileyandthehumans.com images :PJ Sykes

In 1992, Timothy Bailey moved to Richmond, Virginia where he co-led the bands Schwa and Fashion Central. Those bands released 7” singles on Brilliant Records and SpinArt in the U.S. and Elefant Records in Europe.

After several years of extensive touring, Bailey burned out, selling all his equipment and dropping out of the music scene entirely. Over the next 10 years, Bailey held a variety of jobs, did a stint in grad school, and had a nervous breakdown which took years to recover from.

Richmond’s Cherub Records is releasing Timothy Bailey & The Humans’ debut EP Ecoutez! Ecoutez! in June 2006. The EP represents just a small sampling of the explosion of songs Bailey has recorded since the end of his hiatus from music. The recordings show a hard-won maturity and optimism that could only arise from a painful and honest reckoning with

RVA VOL.2 ISSUE 2 / MUSIC 43

Bruce Springsteen We Shall Ovecome: The Seeger Sessions

ing a large group of acoustic instruments in one room to tribute traditional folk songs ‘Tis the season for the sparked my interest. backyard barbecue mix…and the Boss has According to the some good, old-timey liner notes, The tracks to offer with his Seeger Sessions was newest release, We recorded live over Shall Overcome: the three separate days in Seeger Sessions . The Bruce Springsteen’s album combines ele- living room. The first ments of Springsteen’s session, being the previous two releases, original inspiration The Rising and Devils for the release, took and Dust : elements of place in 1997 when tribute and elements Springsteen recorded of acoustic instru“We Shall Overcome” mentation. Neither of for a compilation of those releases does Pete Seeger songs. much for me person- The session must have ally, but they have made an impression kept the Boss on the on the Boss himself, popular music radar, for he would summon and the idea of gather- the same group of 46 BORN UNDERGROUND - REVIEWS

musicians eight years later for a second session in 2005, and then again in 2006 for a third and final session. All but one of the songs are deemed either public domain or traditional in the liner notes, and all are closely associated with the folk hero Pete Seeger. The title track, “We Shall Overcome,” is regarded by some as the most important protest song ever (hence the association with Seeger) and was chanted heavily during the civil rights movement. Springsteen’s rendition is a slow folk anthem, complete with gang vocals, and accessible to anyone

looking for inspiration. Other tracks on the album are upbeat and sound as if they slipped directly off of Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music and into the Boss’ repertoire.

The most important and exciting aspect to come out of the recording is Springsteen’s ability to take these traditional songs, such as “Old Dan Tucker” (yes -- he died with toothache in his heel), and inject them with his infamous dose of modern blue-collar delivery. In the past, I have heard naysayers dismiss Springsteen’s

delivery and material as too intense or too heavy, which can be understandable in some realm, but The Seeger Sessions is comprised of tunes that lie at the heart of American song.

And who better to relate them to us but the Boss himself, the man who put his ass in front of the stars and bars back in the ‘80’s? The album does not require close allegiance to Seeger, Springsteen, or even traditional song itself.

It’s the repackaging of these old songs that the Boss and his gang of fiddlers, blowers, and pickers achieve through recording old songs in the present day in the same fashion that they

were recorded originally. If anything, The Seeger Sessions can be inspiring enough to investigate Seeger’s recording career or activism, traditional folklore and song, or Springsteen himself, particularly his acoustic hipster delight Nebraska. -Frankie Lee Tool 10,000 Days Volcano/Zomba I admit anticipating the forthcoming of this album without knowing what to expect, but isn’t that the case with every Tool album? 10,000 Days has proven to be well worth the wait,

providing the listener with a sonic revolution both electrifying and challenging -- an imposing combination. In addition to the groundbreaking music, the incorporated album artwork is enthralling and inventive, strengthening the impact of the year’s best release thus far.

repulsive attraction to tragedy. Aside from Nevermind, this is the only other recording wherein my favorite song is the single.

Anyone troubled by the parasitic media preying on our culture ought to pay close attention to the lyrics of this stellar effort.

Tool wastes no time with gimmicks or theatrics, kicking things off with the scathing single “Vicarious.”

This is the best single since Nirvana shook the world with “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” The bitter melody serves as an indictment of modern society’s

The assault continues with “Jambi,” a strong outing that shifts the mood while maintaining the recording’s aggressive tone. “Wings for Marie” and “10,000 Days” form a delicate pair, soaring beyond the boundaries of contemporary music.

This effective duo confounds and delights

in equal measures, displaying the band’s potent ability to shift pace and tempo in perfect harmony.

Next comes “The Pot,” a bold song ripe with uplifting vocals, biting sarcasm, jagged riffs, alluring bass, and pounding drums driving the beast. Tool has never been so soulful and intense within the confines of a single song, establishing this polished gem as an instant classic.

The band’s artistry and originality are fully on display during the next two tracks, “Lipan Conjuring” and “Lost

Keys.”

The angst resurfaces on the album’s most menacing offering, “Rosetta Stoned.”

This eleven-minute monument is both gut-wrenching and experimental, allowing the band to soar to new heights of sonic mayhem while simultaneously plunging the audience into guttural depths of rage.

“Intension” offers a beautifully stirring musical meditation.

“Right in Two,” a gentle yet haunting opus, swells into a chaotic riot before sweetly fading away. 10,000 Days concludes with

“Vignitri Tres,” the most unorthodox composition as well as the least aurally pleasing; this track is more akin to communicating with the damned than listening to music.

Tool provides another sterling addition to their legacy as they continue to impose their will on the industry. They remain trendsetters, paving their way and refusing to follow in anyone’s footsteps.

Their body of work continues to evolve, as does their unique penchant for entertaining while pushing toward new and often unforeseen directions. Is this their finest effort? Have

they given us another Undertow ? Only time will tell, but this influential group is undeniably performing at the peak of their powers, and has provided 2006’s best album to date.

- James Wayland Murphy’s Kids The Anti Corporate Beach Party This album has secured itself as one of my current favorites. Sounding like a mixture of NOFX and Less than Jake, they blast out some amazing music. What really struck a chord with me was how good quality of the recording was. The album was recorded and

BORN UNDERGROUND - REVIEWS 47

engineered by Andrew Prousalis at Imagine Music Studios, and they definitely got their moneys worth.

The music has all the energy that one comes to expect from the genre. It’s the kind of music that makes you want to run around a pit and go crazy, pick up that skateboard and go rip it up, or just turn that frown upside down. The seven band members play extremely well together: brass coming in at the right times, guitars picking up strength and dying down when needed, and the drums always setting the tune well.

A band makes or breaks itself with its vocals. With the ska genre, the vocalist should be able to match the musical tones throughout the music, which is no easy feat considering how dynamic the music tends to be. These guys do not disappoint. Clear in their words, loud, and full of energy, they take you on a skatastic ride.

- Peter Szijarto The New Flesh Parasite Maybe it’s the extremely lo-fi recording, the indiscernible vocals, or extremely repetitive guitars and

48 BORN UNDERGROUND - REVIEWS

drums that cause this album to tank. I have always liked punk music but this doesn’t possess what’s good about most great punk acts.

Even though we don’t have star rankings anymore, I would give The New Flesh a two out of five for these two reasons: First, those that are huge into house shows would appreciate the sound of this CD. It might even have been recorded at one. Secondly, the song “Pirate Stomp” is actually good. Too bad the rest of the CD doesn’t carry the same feeling - Peter Szijarto

The Soundtrack In Through Here and Out of Control The record-ing quality of a CD is very important. If the band wants to get out and be taken seriously, their sound should definitely be up to par, especially in the pop-punk genre which I would consider The Soundtrack to reside in.

Reminding me immediately of Saves the Day, The Soundtrack seems to definitely draw inspiration from them. With STD being hugely successful and popular, I don’t see this as a bad thing.

On the other hand,

The Soundtrack does sepa-rate themselves fairly well from the rest of the pop-punk crowd, though not enough to escape the typical characteristics of the genre, mainly the vo-cal style.

With all that said, the CD is good, with tracks “Over-statement,” “Tempo-rary Distraction,” and “First and Last” stand-ing out as the best. The first one conveniently opening up the CD, it packs the high-energy punch that makes that good first impres-sion required to make one listen to the rest. “Temporary Distrac-tion” continues that high-energy feel with the fast-paced guitars and drums more

akin to punk music, yet the smooth vocals reel you back into the poppunk world. “First and Last” takes a break from the fast-paced openings with a slow, melodic guitar which eventually opens up to a more relaxed sound (somewhat similar to some of Weezer’s or Jimmy Eat World’s music).

I’d recommend checking out their music over at www.myspace. com/thesoundtrack.

- Peter Szijarto

Avail Dixie / 4AM Friday / Over The James reissues Jade Tree Records

ings, these reissues are the kind that make even old fans want to pick them up. As if the music weren’t enough, the revisited booklets present everything fans of the band could hope to see. Seriously, don’t sleep on these.

- Sean Patrick Rhorer

in their own right.

Falling somewhere be tween contemporaries on the Amphetamine Reptile and Dischord labels (ex: Unsane, FuI feel slightly blasgazi) and clearly laying phemous for even the groundwork for attempting to review later Richmond bands three albums of such endeavoring into the classic stature. If you noisy, more chaotic are reading RVA and realms of punk/hardhaven’t ever heard hose.got.cable core (ex: Sleepytime Avail, welcome out Discography 1992-1995 Trio, Four Hundred from under your rock. Cadillac Flambe Years), hose.got.cable Few bands represent are quite possibly one Richmond more accu- Featuring members of the most underrated rately and appropriate- that went on to play in and overlooked bands ly than these guys and such Richmond/Virin Richmond underthese three albums ginia notables as RPG, ground history. are the proof. Featur- Alabama Thundering all the anthems pussy, Men’s Recovery If anything, let’s hope we’ve come to love Project, and Rah Bras, this discography helps over the years, plus a hose.got.cable made a to change that a bit. slew of additional vinyl lasting impression on -Sean Patrick Rhorer only and live recordthe city’s music scene

pressive a house show in Harrisonburg was for such an impactful group. While I truly appreciate the bulk of this documentary being in DVD REVIEW Swedish and even sort of enjoy the arrogance Refused to it all, the lack of reRefused Are ally solid information in Fucking Dead exchange for presentEpitaph Records ing visually stimulating imagery falls a Having played their little flat. It’s clear that last show in Harfootage from the last risonburg, it seems show exists, so why somewhat fitting to not include it all, even review the documentary revolving around just as bonus material? the demise of Refused. With as much hype and delays surrounding this In fact, the amount of release, I was hoping footage and artistic for a lot more.-Sean references to that illfated last performance Patrick Rhorer might be lost on most who are not familiar with just how unimBORN UNDERGROUND - REVIEWS 49

Pedals On Our Pirate Ships began about year ago when Matt Seymour wrote the title song. He wanted to do a Richmond music compilation promoting bike-riding and benefiting Richmond ReCycles. If you didn’t know, Richmond ReCycles is a new and used community-oriented bicycle shop that is working to promote bicycle-riding and maintenance education in the city of Richmond and abroad. It was shortly after Seymour’s 26th birthday in February of 2006 when his pal, Joe Mager, gave him a belated birthday present of free studio time at Minimum Wage Recording to record his solo material. Seymour figured that three free days of studio time was way too much to be used all alone, so he called in the help of some friends: Josh Small, Tim Barry, Tim Carroll, Ian Cassidy, Joe Hunt, Casey Martin, Joe Mager, Nick Begheimer, Daniel Rickey, Adrienne Brown, David Hughes, Adam Thompson, and David Donaldson -- members of many different bands from Richmond including Avail, Landmines, Triple Twins, Our Stable Violent Star, The OK Bird,and more. In the end, 14 musicians participated in the recording. The studio time was all pro bono. The cover art was done for free by local ink driller Josh Brown of Absolute Art Tattoo. Pop Faction Records stepped up to help out, splitting the costs with Seymour. If all goes as planned, WRIR will play the record and Plan 9 will distribute. Seymour is extremely excited about it: “I’m amazed at all the support I’ve gotten on this CD. Truly a community project…truly a good fuckin’ good time!”

RVA Magazine presents the Pedals On Our Pirate Ships CD release show including most of (if not all) the musicians that assisted on the CD, as well as music from the Mason Dixon Disaster, Landmines, and more.

Friday, June 16th / Gallery5 200 W. Marshall St / Doors open at 8pm / $5 50 BORN UNDERGROUND - UPCOMING

Not words. An act. I won’t write anymore.

-- the final words of Cesare Pavese

dead letter office words : Clay McLeod Chapman image : R. Anthony Harris

Imagine I’m at a park. Been sitting on this bench long enough to blend right in. Pigeons are paying me no mind, pecking at the ground. All of them flocking around my feet, huddled together. Heads bobbing up and down, completely unaware that I’m even there.

So I stand. Just leap to my feet, bolting upright -- sending them all flapping back into the air, this burst of birds blasted into the atmosphere, scattering over the rest of the park.

This is my final thought. That last abstract to race through my head before it all goes dark. I’ll come back to it later. Better to get it out of the way, up front. Put it behind us. No need to dwell on what it will be anymore.

Now we know.

There’s a hallway between the back of my throat and the birdshot. No pictures on the walls. Just two hollow cylinders, a smoothbore corridor leading straight to my neighbors. Their doorknocker’s shaped like a hammer. One rap and the walls peel back, propelling my houseguests at point-blank range.

Come on in. Sorry about the mess.

I’ve practiced. Rested a pair of penny rolls across my tongue, bound together by a rubber band. Got a good taste of copper in my mouth, that metallic tang -- making me think about the moment when I’m swallowing the real thing, both barrels, tasting the sulfur residue from the last blast.

Makes you wonder about all the different instances that gun’s been fired, all the people who’ve pulled this trigger before you. What the circumstances were… if they were any different from your own.

Loaded both chambers, which seems like such a waste.

One door opens, the other keeps closed. I’ll never leave this room again.

Filled my pockets with all the extra shells I wouldn’t be using, taking them to the park with me. Grabbing a handful, I’d crack back the red plastic casing. Peeled away the cotton wadding like I was unsheathing a peanut, getting gunpowder all over my fingers. Licked them clean, tasting for salt. Only my tongue began to burn. Rolled the 12-gauge pellets around in my palm for a bit before tossing them like breadcrumbs, feeding the pigeons.

Let them peck at the lead until their beaks chip down to nothing.

Let their intestines ignite with cordite. Let them die from the inside out.

Back to that last thought. It’s there within the millisecond between me squeezing the trigger and breathing in a storm cloud of nitroglycerin, inhaling enough gunpowder to burn through my lung tissue. Just before the bullet charges past my gag reflex. Brain matter bursts out from the back of my head, escaping through the exit wound like pigeons fluttering into the air.

The wet bits taking flight. Clumps of hair flapping about. Birds disperse, scattering in every which direction, before finally settling back down on the ground again.

NOTE NUMBER TWO Time to jump. Stay under the rope. Do this right and your feet never touch the ground again.

I’m humming the first thing that comes to mind, remembering some nursery rhyme from when I was younger. Just a little girl.

Gypsy, gypsy, please tell me.

What my fortune’s gonna be.

We keep repeating the verse until the girl jumping makes a misstep -her legs tangling up into the rope, snagging at her ankles. Whoever she trips on is the kind of man she’ll end up marrying one day.

Rich-man, poor-man, beggar-man, thief.

Doc-tor, law-yer, In-di-an chief.

That’s the magic of skipping rope. The power of prophecy, to look into the future and foresee your fate. Who our husbands would be, how many children we’d have, what type of house we’d live in. Don’t need a crystal ball. No need for tea leaves. We’d conjure up tomorrow today with nothing but our feet.

The double bounce. The slide swing.

The straddle cross or the heel touch.

We get our hands clapping. Head shaking from side to side. Lifting the knees, slapping the palms of our hands against our legs. And the repetition of the verse, this low monotone drone, like it was some incantation -- like we were slipping off into some trance, some somnambulistic dance, where the spirit enters your body the quicker you skip, opening up a door inside yourself. Welcoming that apparition in.

Nothing but a bunch of jump rope heretics, skipping to the beat, whipping that cord around at two-hundred revolutions per minute. The name 54 BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE

of the game is to keep increasing the speed, see how fast we could get that rope going -- until the very line vanishes, blurring the barrier between our feet and the ground. Until it looks like we are flying, hovering above the rest of the world. Gravity can’t have us anymore. We’re weightless now. We’re free.

Doctor, doctor. Call the doctor. Sarah’s gonna have a son or daughter.

Wrap it up in tissue paper. Send it down the elevator.

We keep repeating the verse until the girl jumping trips up. Whatever number she misses is what she’ll be the mother of when she grows older.

Boy, girl, twins or triplets.

Boy, girl, twins or triplets.

Boy, girl, twins or triplets...

But looking that deep into future comes with consequences. There’s a price to pay. You’re bound to that rope now. And everybody trips. Only a matter of time before one of your feet snags, everything suddenly snapping back into vision. The rope wrapped ‘round your neck. Your feet on the ground, wobbling on top of some chair. Nothing but a breath away from taking that last step forward.

The rope divides your past from your future. Always has. Everything below the noose belongs to history -- the air underneath, caught in your lungs. While above are all the things that’ve yet to come -- the blood halting in your head, the burst capillaries. Your jaw clenching tight, that snippet of your tongue bit off between your teeth. All you have to do now is cross the line. Jump in.

It was always when I was on the outside of the rope, looking in -- watching the cord whip around, waiting for the right moment to take that step forward, hop on in -- that I would take the deepest breath, ushering in as much air as my lungs would allow. As if I’d never breathe again.

Sarah, Sarah -- jumped in the fire.

Kneel , I say. And the oven obeys.

The fire too hot, she jumped in the pot.

The pot was too black, she jumped in a crack.

The pot was soon over, she jumped in some clover.

Clover’s too sweet, she kicked up her feet.

One, two, three. Sarah jumped in a tree.

The tree was so high, she couldn’t go higher.

‘Long came a breeze, blew her away.

NOTE NUMBER THREE

Open wide , I command, snapping the rag just above my head. The oven cracks its mandibles back, hinges squealing, presenting its gaping maw to me. Its breath is faint, nearly odorless -- but the more I inhale, the heavier my head gets. I can smell the remnant scent of our past pot roasts, still caked to the roof of its mouth. The charred aroma of dozens of dinners coagulated to the burner ports, the flame openings, a whiff of all the dead animals that’ve slipped down its throat lingering within.

Beef brisket. Pork tenderloin. Veal cutlets. T-bone steaks. Glazed hams.

Roasted chickens. Blackened Angus hamburgers. Thanksgiving turkeys.

The roast has been marinating all morning, stewing in its own juices.

Rib eye. Such a tender cut. Three inches thick. And bleeding. Looks like some raw offering for the oven. It’s been preheating patiently in the kitchen, just waiting for me to toss in that slab of beef.

I’m already dizzy by the time I slip my head in, holding the oven’s lower jaw with my left hand, the upper with my right, fingers cupping over its teeth as my neck slips through. I rest my face on top of its tongue -- the grille pressing against my cheek, leaving an indentation in my skin.

The last words I will have ever heard your father say to me were -What’s for dinner tonight, honey?

Hurry, hurry. Step right up.

I told him it would be a surprise.

Just make sure he doesn’t come into the kitchen right away. Wait a while for the air to clear. I’ve sealed off the windows with duct-tape. Stuffed a dishtowel underneath the door. The gas is turned on to its hilt, purring from the taps at full blast -- hissing whenever I get too close, as if the oven doesn’t trust me just yet, the pilot light ready to roar. But having dealt with dust bunnies and picking up stuffed animals around the house for the last ten years of my life, I think I can handle a man-eater. The king of all kitchen appliances.

Look at me, kids. Your mother’s become a lion tamer.

I have a chair in one hand, aiming its legs directly at the oven -- a dishtowel in the other, whipping it through the air.

The circus has come to our kitchen.

NOTE NUMBER FOUR When you can watch a building topple onto itself in a cloud of dust, wondering why more buildings aren’t crumbling to pieces all around, you almost painfully wish that more buildings did. Just to make something so wrong that somebody actually spoke up about it. Screamed something articulate.

Nothing is structurally sound.

Not up here. The wind is so shrill it actually stings. Hurts the ears.

Sometimes I can barely even keep my eyes open. I’ll have to turn away from the wind, let the current blow over.

Forty stories. Nearly six hundred feet. Everyone looks so small from this BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE 55

far up.

Somebody at the water-cooler said a recent study determined that when a person commits suicide, they affect six other people on an intimate level. Complete strangers. It’s a domino effect of self-destruction. One person kills himself and a half dozen others tumble from the repercussions.

My game plan is to aim higher. Go for broke.

That’s why I waited until lunch break.

Did you know the world record for the highest number of dominoes set up single-handedly and toppled over is three hundred thousand six hundred and twenty one tiles? Took seven weeks to set up, thirteen hours a day. And it all came down in less than four minutes.

Want to know who holds the title? Some woman in Singapore. Halfway through her preparations, a cockroach scuttled across the floor -- knocking over about ten thousand tiles before she could catch it, kill it, crush it under her heel. Days worth of work, all down the drain. She went ahead and laid out these foul-smelling leaves along the ground, barricading her work with her own homemade bug repellent. Even then, every night, she’d have these terrible dreams about insects creeping in and tipping over all her dominoes. Each morning, she’d hold her breath and say a prayer as she walked back in -- fearful she’d find that they had already collapsed in the middle of the night, toppled over with the flick of an antenna.

Up here you find the patterns. Look at how everyone lines up along the sidewalk, heading in different directions -- this endless procession of tightly packed people snaking on for blocks.

Domino toppling is the perfect balance between architecture and destruction. Hours go into meticulously designing this intricate configuration, aligning tiles in an elaborate tapestry -- only to destroy it. One flick 56 BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE

of the finger and it’s all gone. Once that chain reaction is set into motion, there’s no stopping it. No going back. All that work falls over in a matter of seconds. And when it all comes down, you’ll have nothing to show for all your effort but the aftermath. Left with just the rubble.

So you inhale the dust. You let the soot and asbestos settle into your lungs.

You see who crawls out from the debris. Dusted bone-white. Their eyes looking blacker than ever before, these dark wet spots in the midst of all that ash. Like the face of a domino, arranged in a random assortment of circular pips, two dots, three dots, four or six, their smudged numbers blinking open and shut, open and shut, trying to get their vision back.

All it takes is that very first domino, the actual catalyst for disaster. The pushover. One person tumbles and the others follow along.

Today, I am that trigger. The beginning of the end. A demolition expert in the most human order. One leap from me and it all kicks off. Free-falling at eighty miles per hour.

And watch them all topple beneath me.

Watch me knock them all down.

NOTE NUMBER FIVE Another string broke. Snapped in half right in the middle of my song. The wire had been wound so tightly around the tuning peg, all it took was a couple strums to sever through. Now there’s the absence of a note, this gap in the melody that won’t be coming back.

Not that it’s stopped me from playing. I just strum over it now, hopping onto another artery.

I had a music teacher tell me once that the biggest difference between a

great guitarist and a crappy one is the ability to play with passion. Just about anybody can learn how. Simply pick up the instrument and start strumming. But to actually sound exceptional, to bring life to your music -- you have to have heart.

That’s when he noticed the scars along my arms, this latticework of scabs creeping out from under my sleeves. Never had another tutorial with him again.

I’ve had to teach myself how to play, practicing in the bathroom when my parents aren’t around. The type of guitar pick I choose to use comes from the medicine cabinet -- snitching one of my father’s single-edged razor blades, high-carbon steel for that closer cut. Makes for a more solid sound.

vibration, producing this elevated tone -- while it’s best to play the bassline on the brachial artery, strumming firmly along the elbow.

And even strokes now. Go deep. You have to think of your strumming arm as a pendulum, swinging up and down at a steady tempo. Your radial artery has a palpable pulse, your own built-in metronome -- so place your fingers along your wrist and see if you can play at the pace of your own cardiac rhythm.

I’m tapping my heel to keep up with the beat of my blood pumping all over the floor.

One and two and three and four and one and two and three and four and one and two and three and four and one and two and three and four.

Everybody needs an outlet. There’s a song inside of myself and I’m ready to release it. It begins with pins and needles before moving onto a stronger melody. Picking scabs. Burying match heads into my thigh. The chorus includes enough cuts that I had to swear to my mom that the cat had scratched me.

I taught myself how to play just for this. It’s a simple two-chord ditty, heavy on the radial and ulnar artery. But it’s one hell of a power ballad, hot licks and all.

Time for today’s guitar lesson.

-------------------------------------------------->

Tuning. Keep pumping your hand into a fist so that the veins rise up to the surface of your skin. Start strumming, humming along. Listen through every chord progression, making sure your veins are resonating in the right pitch.

RVA Magazine Presents: A Reading of New Stories by Clay McCleod Chapman Tuesday, June 27th 6:30PM Chop Suey Books 1317 West Cary St. Richmond, VA 23220 (804) 497-4705

Finger placement. Your forearm’s the fret board, the bones in your hand becoming your own tablature staff -- six strings, completely acoustic.

Place your index finger on the recurrens radialis . Middle finger of the carpeus volaris . Ring finger on the dorsalis , while the pinkie slips onto the superficialis .

Hit the higher notes with the shallower veins. You can pinch any artery against the ulna bone within your wrist to shorten the length of the vein’s

Here comes my guitar solo.

Renowned Richmond-born playwrite, author, performance artist, and RVA Magazine monthly contributor visits Chop Suey to read many of his new stories, some highlighted in the pages of RVA Mag and a few surprises. Refreshments and a meet-and-greet directly afterward.

BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE 57

avenue of champions words : Andrew Everton image : R. Anthony Harris One night a couple of years ago I played pool with some friends at a place on West Broad Street. I left late and alone, and approaching car with key in hand saw in my peripherals a figure approaching from the left. Instinct took hold. I jammed the key in the door, jumped inside and cranked the engine, and then shame caught up to instinct. I took my hand off the gearshift, and took a good look at my potential attacker. She was a heavy-set black woman in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a sweater, not particularly dirty or homeless-looking. Just an ordinary person in the city at night and most likely, I told myself, in distress.

Had I, always so proud of my willingness to assume the guilt of my forbearers, taken this innocent woman for a threat because she was black?

Despicable. I rolled my window down and asked,

Hi, what’s the matter?�

58 BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE

“I need a ride,” said the woman.

I had expected her to ask to use my phone. I offered her that.

“Nobody to call, I need a ride.”

White guilt makes you do strange things. Here was a stranger with no manners refusing to be helped on my terms, but instead of telling her sorry and driving away like a sane person, I felt that I had something to prove: that I am not afraid of black people. And, after all, had not my great-great grandfather most likely whipped hers for rattling his chains too much? Didn’t I owe her something for that?

So I cleaned my CDs off the passenger seat and asked her where I was driving.

“Oh, just drive and I’ll tell you where,” she said, “my name’s Denise.

What’s your name?”

“Andrew.”

“Andrew, where do you live?”

“Southside,” I said, glad for once to live thirty minutes away.

“Oh. Well cross Broad and go straight for a minute.”

As we started over the bridge towards the Diamond she asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I started thinking about the episode of Six Feet Under where a hitchhiker douses Michael C. Hall in gasoline and puts a gun in his mouth.

“Yes I do,” I lied.

“Well do you ever, y’know, mess around on her?”

“No,” I said, my voice cracked.

“Why not?” she asked, “Not like she would know.”

“I love my girlfriend,” my beautiful imaginary girlfriend. I started thinking of a name for her in case I was pressed and settled on Michelle. “I’d never do that to her.”

Near the Diamond Denise asked me to make a right down a pitch-black street that seemed to go nowhere. At the time it was too dark to read the street name, but now I know it’s called “the Avenue of Champions.”

This is where a better story would take off. I’d park to let her out, and her pimp would come from the shadows to stab me and take my wallet. Or she’d ask me to do some meth with her, and a cop would pull up just as she did and when my family came to bail me out I’d have to explain why I was in a parked car with a stranger and some crystal methamphetamine at 2 am. Maybe if I were James Frey that’s how this would end. But it isn’t what happened, and I’m too boring to pretend otherwise.

Stopped there at the Avenue of Champions I heard, in my mind’s ear, the voices of two shitty DJ’s joking about this ridiculous white guy who allowed himself to be robbed and murdered by a black hitchhiker because he felt it would be racist to do otherwise. It would blow up into a national news story; a little throwaway in the last five minutes of the network broadcast that Brian Williams thought somehow provided trenchant insight into race relations in America. I didn’t stop to wonder how the media figured out the motives of a corpse; I kicked Denise out of the car.

“Man, I’m not going to fuck you up,” she said to me.

“No,” I said, “I’m scared and you need to get out of the car. Sorry.”

And, amazingly, she did. Grumbling, she shuffled down the road towards I know not what, and I drove away half expecting to be chased by an El Camino back to Chesterfield County.

Later, safe in the bosom of 23113, the guilt would return, and Denise would become once more an unfortunate woman in poor circumstances who was further victimized by the fear and latent racism of a wouldbe good Samaritan. But for a few minutes, driving fifty miles an hour through the museum district, fear outpaced guilt, and for a brief shining moment outside the Diamond I had stopped being a total fucking moron.

BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE 59

a reply to stryder lee’s “matrimonial missteps” words : Andrew Clock

For starters I’d like to say that I disagree with a long list of “religious conservatives” on a multitude of issues. It’s necessary to realize that all people aligned with any faith never fully agree on something in particular, so broad-sweeping generalizations never tend to help any argument.

I cringed when I saw Pat Robertson on television encouraging a political leader’s assassination, rolled my eyes when Jerry Falwell warned against the evil agenda of the purple Teletubby, and I still get uncomfortable when President Bush is regarded as the country’s spokesman on modern Christianity. My purpose is to make decisions that are in accordance with Christ’s teachings, the most important being to “love thy neighbor.” Though I do not condone homosexuality, I still have no authority to judge a homosexual or to regard them as any less of a person because I disagree with a certain aspect of their lifestyle. I believe that God created them just as He did me; therefore they are to be loved and respected as they are His creation. I have gay friends who I care very much for, and it’s impossible for me to believe that they should be the target of attack by “religious folks.” At the same time it’s important for me to stand by God’s laws and Christ’s examples when it comes to such a hot current event like gay marriage, whether or not I think it’s politically or economically sensible. I won’t deny that it can be tough to understand that type of faith, but attacking believers (or “religious folks,” if you will) simply substitutes one general group under attack for another.

60 BORN UNDERGROUND - OPINION

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After reading Stryder Lee’s commentary, I thought it’d be helpful to shed some light on at least one young Christian’s perspective regarding gay marriage (I’ll be bold enough to assume that these “religious” folks mentioned through Mr. Lee’s article are meant to be an interchangeable term for Christians).

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tricks and clever plot devices to keep the reader turning pages. They are enjoyable, and they are badly written. Brown’s stories surely will translate effortlessly into film, and although Tom Hanks is no Harrison Ford, he’ll produce the same rough charm necessary of a bungling, academic hero.

monthly reader

Something Old: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

by J. K. Rowling I was lucky enough to come across some beat-up paperbacks of the British Harry Potter series. So the originals would be available to a larger audience, the books were translated and too many adorable British spellings and phrases were Americanized.

Excited, I began the book mostly because I re-read the series obsessively and this was just one more excuse to do so, like losing a job or huddling during a hurricane. Quickly I found that my eye would stop on every “realise” and “learnt” as minor distractions, but rejoiced at each “sherbet lemon” and “bogey.” The original language definitely adds charm to the characters (not that they need it), and makes the book all that more exciting (so exciting). If you are still a naysayer of the J. K. Rowling world then we should just end our relationship here.

Something New: Truth Serum

by Jonathan Adams Jonathan Adams’ new graphic novel, Truth Serum , is an oddball look at superhero life in the suburbs.

The book is comprised of anecdotes that last one or two pages, showcasing the characters’ loneliness, awkwardness, or slightly villainous nature. Adams’ visual storytelling is excellent and packed with potential. My only complaint is that all of the characters have the same voice, but maybe they’re intended to be the multiple sides of a fascinating person, like Adams himself.

Something Borrowed: Angels & Demons / The Da Vinci Code

by Dan Brown

Something Blue: Tropic of Cancer

by Henry Miller There’s nobody bluer than Henry Miller when it comes to the risqué world of 1930s Paris. Banned for decades in America,

Tropic of Cancer is mostly memoir with a dash of philosophy and a fair amount of novelization. Getting into Miller’s narrative style was difficult at first since the plot is jumpy and wandering, much like the starving author. Deeper into the book, my enjoyment spread like an infection, and I started trying to figure out how I can quit my job and move to early twentieth-century Europe.

I went on a bender and read Dan Brown. I borrowed Angels & Demons , the first story following the bleary-eyed Robert Langdon, from my grandfather and the infamous Da Vinci Code from my stepfather.

Like most books in their genre, they are filled with BORN UNDERGROUND - LITERATURE 61

from local scene to silver screen An interview with DaybyDay words : Christian Detres How many times have you been in the shower or lying in bed and thought of something so hilarious that you’ve busted out laughing? How many times have you tried to relate that idea/scenario/dialogue to a friend and had them look at you like you’re insane? Even better, how many times have you taken that idea, realized and scripted it, then made a movie about it? I thought so. Neither have I. But I know a couple of whack jobs that have.

Here in Richmond, the name DayByDay conjures up images and ideas oftentimes completely incongruent with their actual source. No, DayByDay is not a band. For everything that they are not though, there’s an equal list of things that they are. They are culture-jamming jesters of offbeat hilarity lovingly capturing the wilted orange peels of urban society. They are artists, illustrators and screen-printers. They are edgy pranksters soaking the envelope of propriety with equal parts piss and vinegar. They are the gritty purveyors of concrete and paint, brick and litter, skate and punk. DayByDay is a loose collective of wild-minded mavericks waiting for the world to notice their Ritalin-riddled brand of insouciant wit.

It’s been five years of silliness for Dave Stewart and Will Carsola. There’s been jail time Involved for some of their crew. I once saw ultimate Frisbee players recoil in horror as they enacted a scene in which Gangster Jesus (yes, Gangster Jesus – Will Carsola in cornrows and robes)

shot a monk in the back. They’re about to release a new DVD, Teenagers from Uranus -- a follow-up to their funny-as-balls 2004 release, Teenagers from Mars. The soon-to-be-released film combines sketch comedy, music videos, graffiti montages, South Park-style animation and bum rock. Crazy as they may be, they’re some of the most approachable people I’ve ever met. They won’t bite – unless it’s funny.

Christian Detres So how did you make this mess? When was the moment you decided that all the funny ideas you had in your head were worth spending years of your time putting them to film?

Will Carsola For me it was when I watched Mr. Show for the first time. I never got to see it while it was on HBO. I caught it in reruns. I saw it with a group of people down at the Red Zero and thought, “I can do that!” Not everyone wanted to do it to the extent that Dave and I did.

So we just started doing comedy as a filler for the rest of the skate/graff/music video. It kind of consumed us, I guess.

CD So you were involved in putting together a film even before you had the idea to do comedy at all?

Dave Stewart Yeah. We became pretty fucking obsessive about the comedy stuff though. I think it’s the most important thing about DayByDay now. It’s the thing we most want to do now. We want to keep the same feel as the old DayByDay stuff though. We’re into all of it -- making t-shirts, promoting stuff with artists and bands.

DayByDay has always been pretty open-ended. When I started it, it was supposed to turn out as a record label, and then it was like, a t-shirt company, and then we went into promotion. When Will came aboard – about one batch of t-shirts into our existence – we pretty much started to focus on Teenagers From Mars . I think when that movie came out we solidified as what you now know as DayByDay. The good thing about DayByDay is we’re not just a video company; we’re not just a t-shirt company. We feel we’re a platform from which artists of all kinds can get their shit out.

CD I know how hard it is to dedicate your time to a long-term project with little financial reward for the foreseeable future. Where do you get the motivation to continue?

WC Seriously, all the crap on TV. The only way I can process all the bad television, the aural and visual assault of horrible advertising, the phony posturing of our elected officials is to make fun of it, mercilessly.

CD Who told you guys you were funny? Where do you get the balls to do this stuff?

DS In the beginning it was incredibly uncomfortable in front of the camera. It helped that we were drunk ALL of the time while shooting. At the time, the videos were just for our friends so there wasn’t much to worry about. I couldn’t do a live skit to save my life but really, it’s past the point of embarrassing now. Humiliating myself is my full-time job.

CD The new movie is smarter, funnier and way more fucked up. Where do you draw the line at the things you won’t make fun of?

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DS Well, there’s certainly a way in which we won’t exploit people…NAH!

CD Is pretty much everybody from the first video involved in this one too?

CD I was about to say, I’ve seen most of this stuff, you can’t fool me. Seriously, what’s your policy on feelings, and the hurting thereof?

DS Pretty much. We’ve gotten the core group together. Jim’s off doing comic books right now. He did the DVD cover again and he’s in some skits. We’ve got Dave (Gore) O’Dell doing all the special effects – stuff getting chopped off and whatnot. It’s pretty rad. We expanded the team a little bit this time.

WC Our distributors would like us to tone down some of the more, um, just wrong pieces in the movie, but as far as we see it, we’re equal opportunity bastards. We’ll insult anyone. And we do. The beauty of it is we don’t discriminate. We have a list that reads “asian, black, cripples,” and so on. We check them off as we go.

CD Have you gotten past the F’s yet? I haven’t seen a hermaphrodite sketch.

DS OH! We hadn’t thought of that!

WC Nah, too easy.

DS Yeah, you’re right.

60 LOCAL / RVA VOL.2 ISSUE 2 CD What are the highlights of Teenagers From Uranus ? Give me a synopsis.

WC Well it all begins when Lord Asshole (ruler of the planet Uranus for all of the astronomy-challenged) sends two penis warriors to the planet earth to gain control and sabotage the planet’s media broadcasting and thereby begin to control the world. That leads into all the fucked up stuff you’ll see in the video like the GORE version of Municipal Waste’s “Unleash the Bastards” video, some Mike Refuse graffiti [congratulations Mike and Brionna!!! –ed], some NYC and Philly graff montages. The end ties in with the beginning but that’s all I can say right now. We’ve got prank phone calls this time and a lot of satirical shit based on current events. We’ve got Dr. Phil as a serial killer, Iraq’s Funniest Home Videos, bum rock…

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CD Release dates, parties, events?

WC We’re definitely going to do a Richmond premiere. We’re done with the movie, just waiting on this distribution deal to give us the final green light. We’re going to tour with the film to all the major markets. We’re also doing an Avail documentary and writing a book about the DayByDay experience with chapters on each of the players.

CD The book will be catalogued in the “Bullshit” section at Barnes and Noble. That’s between “Home and Gardens” and “Cooking.” Is it still fun, this thing you call DayByDay? DS Is it still fun? The question I ask myself every morning when I wake up is “How the hell do I get away with this lifestyle?” I go play with my friends every day. Yeah it’s fun. I haven’t seen the inside of a real office in years.

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Daybyday is a platform company for underground artists, musicians, skaters, and graff writers. Check out the trailer for the next movie Teenagers From Uranus at www.Livedaybyday.com due out 2006.

gone to sea words : Tess Dixon image : Jeff Smack Pirates are a hot topic nowadays. But before the “What kind of a pirate are you? ” internet quizzes, International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Pirates of the Caribbean , and all other forms of pirate revitalization, real pirates terrorized the Chesapeake Bay and its environs. Our colonial ancestors lived in a world where pirates were a real threat: bands of miscreants that could invade a coastal village quicker than you can say “Boston Tea Party.” They played a role in our country’s early history, and they were part of the challenges that faced our forefathers as they lived in a land of quasicivilization. So it’s not just the ruffled shirts that have kept pirates on our minds all these years.

It’s rumored that one of the reasons for moving the capital inland from Jamestown to Williamsburg was the hazard of pirates.

So close to one of the water traveler’s main thoroughfares, it would have been easy for pirates to pester merchants in Jamestown’s waters, or even to invade the town itself. Also, the style of shipping construction was affected: ships that would have been monstrous cargo-holders were designed to be nimble and outfitted with guns to combat pirates. As relations with England worsened, colonists looked for ways to become more independent.

Instead of trading with England, they often 66 BORN UNDERGROUND - LOCAL

sought out pirates and bought black market goods from their stores of plunder.

Some colonial officials lacked the courage necessary to stand up to them, so they took advantage of the opportunity of offending England by tolerating or trading with pirates. After one band of pirates spent a year in the Jamestown jail, their treasure was actually returned to them – minus £300, which the government put towards founding the prestigious College of William and Mary.

Of the pirates that harassed Virginia’s seafarers, there are a couple of standouts. Known as the “Gentleman Pirate,” one Stede Bonnet was actually an English aristocrat by birth. Bonnet’s life started out like a Jane Austen novel: serene conversations against a backdrop of affluence. After success in the English military, Major Bonnet retired to his profitable sugar plantation in Barbados.

Suddenly, and to the grim disapproval of his high-society friends, Bonnet bought a ship, bought a crew, and set out to become a pirate. Probably the only documented case of a pirate actually purchasing a ship, Bonnet didn’t really fit in with the other pirates. Although he did bring in a steady crop of plunder (mostly off the coast of Virginia and the Carolinas), it was obvious to his crew that he was inexperienced. Upon befriending the legendary Blackbeard, he was somehow convinced o relinquish control of his ship, instead spending his time lounging around on the deck of Blackbeard’s Queen Anne’s Revenge . In the meantime, Blackbeard sailed their small fleet to Charleston,

where they committed their most notorious of all acts: holding the entire city of Charleston for ransom.

And what of Blackbeard himself, that infamous scourge of the seas? How easily an image comes to mind when his name is mentioned. The tales told about this pirate vary widely, but all are in agreement of his formidable appearance. He was the original advocate for how to sell an image: He had a long, black beard, which he divided into many small braids, placing lit candles or slow-burning fuses into the braids so that it appeared that his beard was on fire. So it does not seem hard to believe that he began to be referred to as “the devil himself,” or at least one of his messengers. Without the aid of the internet or a reality TV show, Blackbeard became a household name; simply everyone knew about him and followed his exploits with bated breath.

By May of 1718, Blackbeard’s reputation had become so fierce that the recipe for having a wealthy city at his beck and call consisted of the following: (1) Capture some of Charleston’s important citizens and hold them hostage. (2) Park ships across the mouth of the harbor, blockading the city. (3) Make demands.

By most accounts, Blackbeard’s sole demand in this escapade was a medicine chest. Once the chest was procured and the hostages released, he sailed easily off into the sunset.

He was such a threat to security at the time that Virginia’s Governor Spotswood developed quite a vendetta against him, even going so far as to send a fleet of ships down the Carolina coast to put an end to the pirate. Lieutenant Robert Maynard, commander of the Virginian forces, brought back the head of Blackbeard, which was set up on a pike in Hampton: a warning against further pirate infiltration.

These days, pirating as Blackbeard knew it has

gone the way of the buffalo. It’s a lot less about presentation, and a lot more about semi-automatic weapons. Although some modern-day Richmonders have managed to inherit the pirate life’s crass vocabulary, not much time is spent in the classroom mulling over old-school piracy. Our impressions of piracy have come to rely heavily on what we see in popular movies or fiction. At least we know that as Virginians, our fascination with pirates is not misplaced: these characters terrorized our coasts, their names struck fear into the hearts of our ancestors, and their bodies occupied gibbets on our very own beaches.

The image of a pirate skeleton swaying in the breeze, warning off his contemporaries, seems out of place along today’s James… but it’s an enduring image nonetheless.

Events: -- Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest premieres July 7, 2006: http://adisney.go.com/disneypictures/pirates/index. html -- The Hampton Blackbeard Festival takes place June 3 and 4, 2006: http://www. blackbeardfestival.com/ Further reading: -- Pirates on the Chesapeake: Being a True History of Pirates, Picaroons, and Raiders on Chesapeake Bay, 1610-1807 by Donald G. Shomette -- Pirates of Colonial Virginia by Lloyd Haynes Williams -- Under the Black Flag: The Romance and the Reality of Life Among the Pirates by David Cordingly

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bottomed out words - Tyler Bass image : Adam Juresko By the time Congress’s approval rating was bottoming out at 25% according to a Fox poll, I was seeing a whole pattern of public disillusionment. Monroe Park shined warm and bleak in the early summer sun as I paced about in stark fear of the changing winds. On April 17, Gallup had reported that the Congressional approval rating was at a 12-year low.

For VCU students, the semester had just ended, and the vibe of change and exhaustion loomed over the campus. Myself tired as well, I walked nervously along, contemplating the last time that this sort of mass disapproval weighed on the air. Richmonders were at the center of the Virginia machine. The last time numbers looked like this was right before the Republicans swept congress in 2004 to take the majority.

A black-clad youth strummed a nylon string guitar as I passed. He had slapped a Slayer bumper sticker on bottom the guitar, but he was playing it upside down. “Hey, dude,” I asked, familiar yet distant all the same. “Could I listen to you play for a minute?”

As we talked, a man in his thirties was coming down the sidewalk in the park in a tie-dye t-shirt. He placed his feet widely and his steps were buoyant. He was mumbling to himself like a career drunk. As he got close, he remarked for us to hear: “I like big bellies.” Then, he laughed even louder to himself.

Overcome by my semi-fear of the stranger, I began to laugh, too. The odds of meeting someone in the park so obviously intoxicated by psilocybin mushrooms staggering, I watched in amazement as he hobbled away across the grass, ignoring the path’s barriers and all sorts of limits to human sanity and safety.

The guy next to me introduced himself as Kirk. We watched as cars met students on the street outside of Johnson Resident Hall to take their possessions home. Gradually, our topic of conversation moved from the casual to that which all politeness dictates you should never discuss at the dinner table.

Politics.

“It’s been a while since I had a good political discussion,” said Kirk, stopping his strumming in the BORN UNDERGROUND - LOCAL 69

middle of Slayer’s “Angel of Death.”

A student rode by on a bicycle. Tie-dye t-shirt man inquired from a football field away, “Hey, man, you got a bike?” [more laughter] “You got a bike, maaaan?”

“Yeah, that’s a funny thing,” I replied. “Neither have I.”

The Democratic Primary is coming up on June 13th, and the competition is down to Harris Miller and James Webb. Miller’s press secretary, Brian Cook, reports that Miller is running because he has lived the American dream – hence the importance of student loans to Henry Miller.

According to Cook, Miller has driven almost 20,000 miles around Virginia in his hybrid SUV in an attempt to garner votes. The $9 trillion dollar national deficit seems of the utmost concern to the Miller camp. Cook emphasizes that tax enforcement, as opposed to a change in the tax code per se, is the most important point towards a goal of balancing the federal budget, given what he claims are $350 billion in unpaid taxes.

“The wealthiest Americans,” Cooke says, “are the ones who find all of these tax loopholes.”

The Miller camp claims that theirs is the only candidate to call for the resignation of Donald Rumsfeld, in league with a whole legion of retired generals who have absolutely yearned for it in this past month.

Jeff Pyatt is James Webb’s press secretary, and just as Webb himself did on the Colbert Report, Pratt expressed his concern that there was very little good leadership left in Washington. Both of these candidates, mind you, like to refer to Incumbent Senator Allen and Bush’s agendas as one and the same, both of them characterizing Allen as having “rubber stamped” the President’s motives for the past six years.

As for the war, which both Democratic camps say they have opposed since its very conception, these two candidates look ahead to a relatively 70 BORN UNDERGROUND - LOCAL

short withdrawal; it is one certainly outside the time frame implied by the President this year, one only a future commander-in-chief will see. Miller’s mail-outs support a pull-out time frame of 2006 bearing, as Miller’s camp said, a “certain number off Iraqi troops trained” and “specific metrics for withdrawal.” The Webb team, on the other hand, shies away from naming specific indicators.

A recipient of the Navy Cross and Ronald Reagan’s former Secretary of the Navy, Webb sees a confusion in terms regarding our military actions: namely, the difference between a pre-emptive strike which involves much less commitment and an all-out pre-emptive war.

“While we saw terrorist cells in Afghanistan,” says Pyatt, “[Webb] has always opposed being an occupying country.” While James Webb considers the war a strategic foul-up, the Miller people say that Bush outright misled the American people into war.

As I sat on the curb with Kirk watching the colors on the mowed lawn move in steady syncopation, one thing became quite clear to me. The invasion of Iraq would have been profoundly impossible had the country’s biggest export been carrots.

In turn, the opposing Democratic teams are very concerned about the practices of the oil industry. According to Brian Cook of the Miller campaign, “the policies that have made oil executives rich while hurting ordinary Americans at the gas pump” must be overturned. A New York Times poll showed oil prices as one of the cardinal reasons for disapproval with President Bush.

The Webb campaign looks at the unexpected good fortune that oil companies’ profits have come to know, and says it has to end.

I told Kirk that day in the park that given the most famous of anti-war slogans before Iraq, maybe Americans were expecting to get a little more oil for all of that blood (1.25 gallons of blood in the human body TIMES iraqbodycount.net civilian numbers of at least 35,119 = 43,899 gallons?).

I phoned up Bill Bowson at the Allen team, and he called me back with the Republican statement about the race at this point to the RVA readership: “We

respect a spirited democratic primary. We look forward to facing off with whichever wealthy Democrat prevails.” I guess, case in point, if you’re taking in less than the poverty line, running for U. S. Senate is difficult.

Whatever your political leanings, Richmonders should get out and vote; even if you are a hardcore Republican, at least you can help shape the debate Allen will face. If nothing else, in an open primary like this, you could always vote for the least competent Democrat in order to help create division and bolster Allen.

On a nationwide scale and according to poll numbers, the Democrats can never have seen a more opportune chance to retake some seats.

Later that May evening, I walked along through an alley between Floyd and Grove, and encountered another young man I did not know taking wide repetitive circles on a bicycle. He was chanting to himself a constant loop of falsetto chirps much like disorienting series of half-notes one associates with the Twilight Zone. I asked him if were on drugs . . . once . . . twice, only to hear him screech back at me, “I am your mind!” I swear, someone must have driven a dump truck worth of mushrooms down Broad that afternoon.

The nationwide nervous breakdown since tragedy struck has resolved itself to a point that even mid-term elections, normally the epitome of lower turnout, are of consequence. Setting the tone for the future, even amidst the strange trippers that carouse in our streets, is on everyone’s palms. Richmond looks ahead as Congress’ numbers bottom out.

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the way our generation sees movies Staring At Laptops: Some Problems With Watching Movies On Computers words : Teddy Blanks image : R. Anthony Harris You won’t find a link to it on the Lincoln website, and I’m not completely sure how I stumbled across it, but the car company has produced and financed a short film called Lovely By Surprise, only viewable on the internet at lovelybysurprise.com. It stars two vaguely recognizable character actors, Carrie Preston and Austin Pendleton, and it’s about a Marian, a novelist, the quasi-sexual relationship she has with her former professor, and the guidance he gives her for her new book. The book, she tells him, is about two brothers who live on a boat, called the Neverything, in the middle of a field, totally isolated from the world. One brother is content with his life on the Neverything, while the other yearns to explore the outside world. Her professor urges her to let the narrative take its natural course, and have the content brother murder the wouldbe wanderer in order to keep him from leaving the boat. Marian, who has cast herself in her book as the truck driver who delivers cereal and milk to the brothers, feels too close to her character to kill him off.

The website is one of those lavish, overcomplicated Flash affairs that crash computers, and the short is divided into thirteen one- or two-minute segments that are further placed into chapters—there is no way to watch the entire thing at once. Each little scene has its own indie-pop soundtrack, which makes the already short film feel unnecessarily episodic. There is a companion film, with a similarly infuriating website, put out by Mercury called The Neverything , which chronicles the adventures of the two brothers in the novel. It is unclear exactly why the two car companies went through all this trouble. Together, the films have an ap72 BORN UNDERGROUND - CINEMA

pealing concept, but they are not particularly well-acted or put together.

There is no more product placement than in ordinary Hollywood movies these days, and the films never pause to have their characters muse on the great safety features of the 2006 Mercury Milan.

Surely the hope is that someone will find one of these movies, spend a long time on the website watching each scene separately, and hopefully mosey on over to the Lincoln or Mercury website to take a look at their vehicles. But what I find the most remarkable is the confidence these corporations have in bored web surfers to trudge through their websites to watch these movies. These corporate-sponsored online movies come at a time when people are becoming more comfortable, in general, with watching movies on the computer.

For the past year, I’ve lived in a studio apartment with no television. It is the first sustained period of my life living without a TV, and for a person who watches as many movies as I do, it originally posed a problem. My only viable option, short of breaking down and buying a television, was to watch my weekly Netflix DVDs on my laptop computer. I’m sure others find themselves in similar situations, and because all new computers come equipped with DVD drives, watching movies on the computer has become something of a normal activity. The way we do everything is changing, and we are moving toward a time when all culture and experience can be accessed on a personal computer. What does that mean for movies?

Movies on television have always posed a problem, and as soon as videotapes became popular in the 80s, it was apparent that some pictures just didn’t work on the small screen. In recent years, though, with DVDs becoming the standard, and televisions becoming flatter, wider, and bigger, that problem has, in some households at least, been solved. Even smaller, squarer televisions, though, have only one function: to be a screen. In the most basic way, it is the same as a movie screen; despite their vast technological differences, the two objects are merely surfaces upon which we view moving images. That is their purpose.

The primary function of the computer monitor has always been input,

interaction. Until recently, staring for hours at a monitor would get you nowhere -- you had to do something to see something happen. Now that we have movies on the computer, of course this is no longer true (It still feels somehow more harmful -- for the eyesight, for the psyche -- to stare at an LCD monitor for the length of a movie than it does to stare at a television). Because it is interactive, watching a movie on a computer necessarily includes ignoring the presence of a keyboard, mouse, and possibly a printer. These input and output devices remind us that we are watching a movie on a machine, rather than simply on a screen. Ironically, the very things that allow us to interact with our computers serve as a barrier between us and the movie, in fact make the mental and emotional interaction we have with a film more difficult.

Of course, any home movie-watching experience is generally inferior to that of being in a dark theater with a 35mm projector. But it would be silly, and false, to say that the act of watching a movie on a computer prevents us from enjoying it. Staring at laptops just takes some getting used to. There is even an advantage to computers as movie screens.

The screen resolution of computer monitors is much higher than that of most TVs, so a DVD’s picture quality can be much greater. Even so, the movies-on-computers phenomenon has reached beyond the DVD drive.

Like any digital media, DVDs can be ripped, uploaded, and shared on the internet, which means people are downloading heavily-compressed versions of movies and watching them on their computers. When stretched to fill the screen these video files become blurred and pixilated, so that a movie that might have been beautiful on the big screen is reduced to a warped, splotchy, off-color mess.

Despite the problems with watching movies on the computer, a high-profile made-for-the-internet feature-length film seems inevitable. Can a movie like this be effective? Will it survive? Here’s hoping that whichever car company sponsors it takes into account the limitations, and the unique qualities, of the medium.

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paul lazio’s official summer movie preview (Editor’s note: The writer has not actually watched these films.)

A Prairie Home Companion Opening June 9th

The Buzz: Robert Altman may be pushing ninety-three years old, but the wily director is back up to his old tricks with A Prairie Home Companion , due out the second weekend in June. The cast is as spectacular as always (Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Tommy Lee Jones, Lindsey Lohan, Lily Tomlin, and Woody Harrelson headline), but this time Altman has produced a thriller even edgier than his 1992 heavy-hitter, The Player.

And unlike The Player, the special effects are stunning all around, from the explosive action sequences to actually making Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin look like normal human beings.

The Plot: It’s the last night at a popular radio show about to be shut down by the station’s corporate honcho, but a murderer is out to finish off the show’s cast before they can finish the program. This is Altman’s classic Americana with a dash of Scream thrown in, as we watch A-list stars (well, maybe not A-list. I mean, does anyone really care about Woody Harrelson anymore?) die gruesome deaths one by one until the final showdown between Garrison Keillor (playing himself) and the murderer in the show’s final moments. Who knew that Keillor is an experienced knife-fighter? Shine on, you crazy diamond!

Click

Opening June 23rd The Buzz: Adam Sandler -- with help from Kate Beckinsale, Christopher Walken, and David Hasselhoff -- tries to make you forget Bruce Almighty. Actually, just re-watch Bruce Almighty but pretend that instead 74 BORN UNDERGROUND 60 52 LOCAL LIT / RVA / RVA VOL.2 VOL.2 ISSUE ISSUE 1- CINEMA 2

of Morgan Freeman as God taking a vacation, it’s Christopher Walken hawking “universal remote controls” out of a Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

Really.

The Plot: Again, it’s Bruce Almighty. The only real twist here is (spoiler alert!) when Sandler uses the remote to speed his divorce proceedings and marry the blonde jogger featured in the ads. The scene with the bratty kid next door hyper-aging into a rotting corpse is a little much.

Superman Returns Opening June 30th

The Buzz: After years of false starts (Anyone else remember when Nicholas Cage was going to play Superman?), the Man of Steel finally returns to the big screen. Kevin Spacey and Kate Bosworth headline the supporting cast, while Brandon Routh tries to match the effortless brilliance that Christopher Reeve brought to the title role many years back.

The Plot: While the trailer does its best to make this flick appear actionpacked, the movie itself is largely tedious. The set-up is that Superman has finally returned after a lengthy disappearance, but all his time in the Fortress of Solitude has left him a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

Sure it’s hilarious to see Clark Kent show up for work at the Daily Planet wearing red boots and mumbling about solitude, but can we really believe in a Superman who declares, “Damn, I totally forgot about that kryptonite stuff”? The least-watchable sequence of the summer comes midway through Superman Returns as we learn the shocking origins of Lex Luthor’s baldness. It’s hereditary, and no Paul Simon musical montage can make that interesting.

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Mission Impossible III 3 stars

Ethan Hunt gets married to a sweet young thing from Norfolk, and is ready to set aside his crazy life for one of peaceful domestic bliss until Philip Seymour Hoffman, Oscar winner and international black market terrorist, obtains something called the Rabbit’s Foot. We never find out exactly what this Rabbit’s Foot is for, making it a true McGuffin (according to Wikipedia, “a plot device that motivates the characters and advances the story, but has little other relevance...”).

The Foot does allow director J.J. Abrams to put us through a series of unrelentingly tense, high-action sequences that take place all over the world. Abrams, straight from television, directs this picture like he would an episode of Alias if he had more money.

“For what it is” is probably how most reviews of this thing will start. Because for what it is, MI:III is basically effective. I haven’t seen an action movie like this since Terminator 3 came out the year before Ar76 all reviews are by Teddy Blanks

nold ditched acting for politics, and when he said “I’ll be back,” this time he was lying. These pictures come in at full force, grab your balls, and don’t let go until the kiss at the end; I’m not sure about the psychological implications of such stuff -- it can’t be good. I don’t remember what happened in the first two Mission Impossible movies, but I’m sure they had the same three basic elements: a message that self-destructed in five seconds, somebody using an unbelievably realistic mask to trick everybody into thinking they are somebody else, and, of course, Tom Cruise.

Let’s talk about Cruise for a moment. He’s so crazy, right? I mean, he’s nuts, right? Did you hear he’s gay and crazy and a Scientologist? Whatever. The big-nosed, chiseled-faced hero is one of our last real movie stars, and say what you will about his personal life but he’s sort of amazing. There was a time when his pop-culture value was unquestionable, but his recent talk show freak-outs have resulted in a mass Cruise-is-crazy movement. Too bad, because MI:III has him in top form, grinning and shooting and sprinting like an erect penis. His charming narcissism is on full display here, and whatever couch-jumping and Holmes-impregnating he does in his free time makes it all the more enjoyable.

United 93 2 stars

This 9/11 docu-drama is brilliant in the most dangerous way. It sticks to three locations: air traffic control rooms, military command centers, and the interior of the hijacked plane that was run into the ground when its passengers fought back at the terrorist hijackers. It has no protagonist. Director Paul Greengrass uses a gritty handheld camera to capture all the angles, gauge all the reactions, and give the picture its “realistic” feel.

In this way, he posits his disgusting thriller as high art.

The stuff on the ground is actually quite impressive. We see military commanders try to understand what’s going on, determine their enemy, and struggle through bureaucracy to take action. We see air traffic controllers work through their denial (they haven’t seen hijackings since the 70s), attempt to contact pilots, and watch, hopeless, as blips on the screen turn off their normal routes and head for New York. The editing is perhaps most remarkable; United 93

has a high-powered rhythm that gives it its suspense. And these on-the-ground scenes are suspenseful, realistic, and fascinating, but most importantly, they are verifiable.

Not so for the chunk of the movie that takes place on the airplane—it’s all complete speculation. To present it next to the matterof-fact air traffic control footage is to equate the two. Suddenly, Greengrass’ arbitrary version of the events on the plane carry the same tag of “realism” as his actually realistic version of the events on the ground. The crux of the picture’s manipulation is in its score -- tense strings and bump-ba-bumbump drums accompany the action in the air, and disappear when the picture cuts to the action on the ground.

United 93 will make people afraid, it will make them cry, but it has nothing else to say about the events it depicts. If its purpose is to make us feel the way we felt when we first saw the terrible footage of the planes on the news, it has succeeded. Almost five years after 9/11, we are finally beginning to stop living the way our government wants us to live: in constant fear of a terrorist attack.

This picture is a brash orange terror alert in disguise.

United 93’s direct and only subtext is, “Remember?”

But we do remember; we can carry the memory how we choose, without implanting the false memory United 93 attempts to impart.

Paul Greengrass, hardly a household name, had previous success with The Bourne Supremacy, but he is surely staking his reputation on this movie. Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center comes out this summer, but of course he’s is making a 9/11 movie: he’s Oliver Stone. Greengrass, on the other hand, is using our national tragedy to advance his directorial career, and that, my fellow Americans, is morally reprehensible.

Art School Confidential 2.5 stars

Jerome is a naive freshman whose hero is Picasso, who un-ironically declares his ambition to be “the Greatest Artist of the 21st Century,” and who is in love with the nude model in his drawing class. He is an innocent, likable character, a fact screenwriter Daniel Clowes -- he also wrote the comic book the movie is based off of -- seems to forget after the first act.

Clowes wants to make a clever point about how artists get famous from scandal instead of talent, and in the

process has Jerome do a lot of things he would obviously never do. Halfway through the semester, Clowes has our hero take up hard drinking, brooding, and stealing someone else’s art to present it as his own.

To value plot movement over characters is the worst, and most common, Hollywood crime, and this kind of phoniness is surprising coming from Clowes, whose Ghost World was a great character-driven comedy. Here, his script is thin and gimmicky. It even has one of those cheesy scenes in which an upperclassman takes aside the “new guy” and points out to him all the different “types” that go to the school.

Thankfully, director Terry Zwigoff gets the look and atmosphere of art school just right.

Most of the working jokes in this picture, appropriately, are visual ones, and for anybody who has been to art school, certain things about Confidential will be too much to take.

The freshmen critiques are spot-on, and you might find yourself just pointing at certain drawings and giggling. In the movie’s best moment, John Malkovich, brilliant as the temperamental drawing teacher, replies to Jerome’s admiration of his geometric paintings by saying that he was “one of the first” to paint triangles. Now that’s art school.

BORN UNDERGROUND - CINEMA 77

HELLS BELLES

Meghan: dress by Yu Clothing, shoes by Betsy Johnson accessories at Need Supply Tessa: dress and shoes by Betsey Johnson

Dresses by Wonderlust Clothing, shoes and handbags by Betsey Johnson, sunglasses by Betsey Johnson, accessories at Need Supply

Tessa: Dress and shoes by Betsey Johnson Heather: Dress by Betsey Johnson, boots Stylists’ own

Meghan: T-shirt by Junk Food, heart pendant by Betsey Johnson, all other accessories at Need Supply

Art Direction Christian Detres Styling Mary Heffley Hair Jennifer Mantura Photography Kim Frost Models Tessa, Meghan, Kickout & Heather

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Special thanks go out to once again the inimitable f a s h i o n m e c c a , N E E D S u p p l y, t h e w o n d e r f u l p e o p l e a t S c o m o ( t h a t m e a n s yo u C h r i s a n d C h e l s e a ) , S t a c e y a t B e t s e y J o h n s o n , S a r a h Yu , Wo n d e r l u s t a n d l a s t b u t c e rtainly not least, the chill mofos at Hell s Satans (special l o v e f o r K i n g P a t a n d M o p e d To n y ) . R e s t i v o r o c k s t o o !

Heather: sheer lace top by Free People, pinstripe shorts by Solemio, shorts by Have Meghan: Vest by H, shorts by Solemio, tie Stylists’ own