ISSUE THREE
Edited by Mike Arellano and Iain Oldman
APRIL
Photograph by Andrea Bianchi
Photograph by Cara Walton
WORST WEEK EVER
Welcome to spring, everybody! My God, it took one hell of a time getting here, but April has arrived, and with it brings that renewed sense of life. Snow is melting all around us, flowers are blooming and gracing us with their luscious scents, the grass is green, and the laughter of sporting children can be heard echoing across our happy mountain town. Ugh! It makes me want to puke.
Everyone thinks April is the greatest month ever, but in truth, it’s filled with insanity. From the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., to the Bataan death march, to the launching of a human into space, April is historically filled with sheer, batshit insanity. I mean, for God’s sake, even today people annually smoke pot to celebrate Hitler’s birthday (good luck buying Clear Eyes for that hayfever on Easter Sunday, folks). The seasonal change brings out the animal in everybody, but don’t worry, summer is just a few months away, and that’s when people get really insane. We’re here in your corner, though, and we’ll get through this forsaken month together. This is the Worst Week Ever.
Photograph by Cara Walton
Artwork by Zach Gesford
EVENTS YOU CAN’T MISS
Visit Cleanstream.org for more details
4/12
17th Annual Blacks Run CleanUp Day Last summer, we fell in love with this giant snapping turtle that was hanging around in Black’s Run right behind Clementine. He had a name, Bitey, and he was there for, like, weeks. One day, he was just gone, and he took our hearts with him. Honestly, though, he made the right decision leaving, because that creek is straight up filthy. So grab some gloves, wrap a bandana around your head, put on your dirtiest pair of cut off shorts, and go clean up Blacks Run to celebrate Arbor Day this year. Helping Harrisonburg become more beautiful has never felt so good, and let’s be honest, we need to get rid of that distinct, gut wrenching Blacks Run smell that festers all summer. We may even do enough to bring back Bitey.
4/25 WXJM Cool-Aid Benefit Show
Indie giants Titus Andronicus come to the Nile to help raise money for the annual WXJM Cool-Aid Benefit Show, and you don’t want to miss them. We saw them play with Ceremony last year in Richmond, and they were amazing. Heavy yet thoughtful, they will blow everyone’s brains out in the Nile basement. The always fun Eternal Summers and Harrisonburg’s own Malatese join in on what should be a boisterous show. Oh, and you can feel good about going, too, because this year all proceeds will go to Our Community Place right here in Harrisonburg.
Click for Facebook Event
4/26 Rocktown Beer & Music Festival We love beer. There, I said it. We LOVE beer. So, of course, we are exploding with anticipation for Harrisonburg’s annual craft beer appreciation festival. Twenty nine breweries will be on hand to serve you a wide selection of the finest craft beer and cider that they have to offer. Harrisonburg’s own Three Brothers will be there, as well as great breweries like Dogfish Head, Terrapin, Victory (good God we hope they bring Golden Monkey), Bell’s, Smuttynose, Flying Dog, Heavy Seas, and so many more!
www.rocktownfestival.com
4/28, 4/30, 5/2 Court Square Theater
Lace up your leather, strap on your boots, and make sure that lipstick is THICK, because the Rocky Horror Picture Show at Court Square Theater is back! Dress up, throw toast, and enjoy the hilariously twisted and psychotically sexual musical that showed America just how creepy Tim Curry can be (and how bangin’ Susan Sarandon is). Anytime Meatloaf rides in unexpectedly on a motorcycle, you know you’re in for a good time.
www.valleyarts.org/court-square-theater
SECOND FRIDAY April 11:
Second Friday | April 11: *5-7 | Larkin Arts | 18th Annual Sexual Violence Awareness Art Exhibit with a poetry reading by Angela Carter at 6pm *5-8 | Artful Dodger Works and live painting by Wes Way *5-7 | Blue Nile upstairs Some of My Parts: Photography by Brandy Somers *7-9 | Blue Nile basement New work by Matt Hall & Vince Paixao *7 | Court Square Theater Ted & Company presents Fish Eyes (more show times on their site, listed below) *6-9 | Bluestone Vineyard The Judy Chops will perform
WORST WEEK EVER AT MACROCK Two days, over sixty bands, and what retrospectively seems like a million cans of beer later, we here at Worst Week Ever are still reeling, mentally and physically, from what we’ll remember as one of the more enjoyable festival weekends of our lives. If you were there, you know exactly how we feel. If you skipped it, well, you missed out, homie. You missed out badly.
The seventeenth installment of Harrisonburg’s own independent music festival officially kicked off on Friday, but the Blue Nile really sparked the festivities on Thursday night with a great show. Local acts Lil Huffy and Matt and the Leeches joined Richmond’s New Turks on the bill, but the mystifying Gull stole the show.
Photograph by Ross Figlerski
Friday’s morning light woke us up with unrelenting attitude, reminding the world that two straight days of great music was finally here. Downtown Harrisonburg was alive and vibrant, and the strings of golden sunshine carried acoustic sets all across town. The Dodger kicked the festival off, and filled up quickly. We hung out all day at the heavy music showcase at the Blue Nile, and were blown away by the immense depth of Yautja’s sound, weaving in and out of clear consciousness while the glass rattled upstairs. Richmond’s Occultist and Iron Reagan got the crowd ultra-rowdy before Harrisonburg’s local metal gods Earthling took the stage, premiering a new song for the festival-goers. Mecrabbica kept the metal flowing through our veins before we skipped off to Crayola to drink (heavily) and take in New Turks, who just kill it in basements, as well as Tungs, before Malatese capped off Friday’s marathon of music. Photograph by Ross Figlerski
Photograph by Ross Figlerski
One day down.
Hungover, dazed, and smelly, we cracked open Saturday’s festivities, beginning at the label expo and short acoustic showcase at the Nile. We were super excited to meet so many of the bands that helped us put together our MACRoCK issue, as well as meet new faces. Mike stayed at the Nile to mingle with all the pretty people while I dragged my feet to the Scribe or Die panel that the MACRoCK committee was awesome enough to put together. The room was PACKED to hear from and chat with staffers from RVA Mag, Bust Magazine, and my new favorite blog, sweetteapumpkinpie.com (seriously, check ‘em out).
I rushed over to go see Dumb Waiter kick open Court Square Theater’s Saturday showcase, and I haven’t stopped listening to them since. After wrapping up at the Nile, Mike and I slipped into the Dodger to catch Fluffer’s catchy, dirty disco-pop. We took a quick break to shower, hydrate, and eat before rushing back downtown to watch PC Worship just kill it at Court Square Theater. The theater was completely full to rake in the dizzying wall of sound and insanity. We went to catch Sweden’s Allvaret and Richmond’s Springtime kick up pangs of high school punk nostalgia before ending our night at Clementine Cafe’s absolutely brilliant showcase. Every single band exceeded our expectations and brought unprecedented energy. Big Ups and Ex-Cult wrapped up MACRoCK XVII with sets that got everybody in the crowd moving.
Photograph by Ross Figlerski
We bolted over to MyMansion after shotgunning too many beers, running into lost out-of-towners on the way, and immediately got swallowed by the sweaty and raucous crowd. Needless to say, we had a blast.
If Ex-Cult’s set at Clementine had your adrenaline going, their energy at the house show had you close to a heart attack. The whole crowd was gasping for precious air while crowd surfers got stuck up in an ocean of arms, unable to find any room to land in. It was awesome. Friend Roulette thankfully calmed everything down with their dreary, milky sound and before you knew it, the show was done, and just like that, MACRoCK weekend was over.
Photograph by Ross Figlerski
Celebrating Life:
The idea is to choose a random existing holiday each month. I’ll do a call for interest, then document the activity celebrating the holiday to share it with the world (as far as I can reach). --Brandy Somers
http://www.friendlycitylens.com
Beau Knows…Ravioli
Ravioli stuffing was ready. The dough was ‘resting’ (shhh!) in the fridge and the clouds parted to reveal the beautiful, blue, Saturday sky. The cats, Bad Kitty and Bijoux, were becoming increasingly vocal as aromas of sun dried-tomato white sauce poured out of the kitchen. A familiar kitchen tool appeared (the bench scraper/knife) followed by a new one: the pastry cutter/crimper. All this newness was so.exciting. And I’m not exaggerating. Beau demonstrated the crimper but also explained how a drinking glass can easily be substituted.
www.friendlycitylens.com
The sauce on the stove was turning into a mouthwatering, gravy-esque thickness. At this point, he was doing the traditional kitchen dance that occurs just as everything comes to the end of its cooking cycle, all at the exact same moment. So there’s Beau, with a strainer full of ravioli over a sink full of dishes with cats circling his feet like two inverted vultures waiting for a noodle to fall to it’s death. And there I was, standing with my camera in hand. Laughing. Read the full post click below:
Beau Knows…Ravioli --Brandy Somers
www.friendlycitylens.com
“Street Colors” mixed media, acrylic, sharpie and glitter. Alyssa Partlow
Artwork by Zach Gesford
By Zach Williams
on page ....
Photograph by Andrea Bianchi
Thanks For Not Understanding If it ever happens to you (which I hope it does not) you will look at me differently. You’ll swallow your own salty tears out of a foggy glass; the mirror will reflect two eyes, prematurely dead. At night, the sheets will feel too close, so intimate that you believe the fabric is trying to choke you. You’ll call me, recognizing my reflection in your own– you’ll ask how’d I handle the pitiful stares from even the neighborhood dog. If it ever happens to you (which I pray it never does) you will need patience that even religion cannot give. You will need to remember to groom your nails, and brush your teeth twice a day in case you decide to smile. Each day will be a year, dragging you behind the miles of each minute, uncaring and deaf to your pain’s moans, you giving blank stares to your own injured body. But these things you may never understand (and I hope that is always the case). I used to want someone to understand me (and now I only wish that no one ever does).
Selection from:
Memory Chose a Woman’s Body Author: Angela M. Carter Book publication: June 2014 Genre: Poetry/Memoir Publisher: Unbound Content Launch party/event information will be posted on:
www.angelacarterpoetry.com www.facebook.com/angelacarterpoetry/
Thanks For Not Understanding will be a part of the Collins Center event on April 11. Angela M. Carter will be reading poetry from her forthcoming book, Memory Chose a Woman’s Body, at 6pm. (c) 2009-2014 Angela M. Carter.
Internal Compass in the Night Tonight, I have positioned myself at the lap of the world. I cannot release the stammer on my tongue As bitterness churns in the pit of the fruit within me that fell to soil many sides of the moon ago. My nomadic spirit argues with my security-seeking eyes-Following sparrows of stars by thin strings. Galileo’s instruments, those mules; He could not fully see with or without them. He envisioned the shape of moons before discovery— O, how my instincts have stopped trusting; My pupils have stopped adjusting, My bones recite a lock-kneed dance so instinctually. Each night I look above to the tiny dots of compasses And hear their hums above the buzzing and stings of the earth’s tent; They lead me back to the home that exists safely within the cage of my ribs.
(c) 2009-2014 Angela M. Carter.
Artwork by Zach Gesford
The Protests in Kyiv Ukrainian flags blaze blue and gold; Slavic faces blaze red, cold and angry; black smoke from smoldering tires consummates with January’s gray; icicles drain from Shevchenko’s statues, and a protester sketches a darkness-shrouded, bloody-teared Virgin.
Globalism Simulacrums of anything but America’s founding W.A.S.Ps, a half-Ukrainian and a half-Scandinavian share a high-legged table, sit perched with cat-like coyness on skyscraper-tall chairs, in a sports bar’s far corner; filling their persiflage with Jim Beam’s perspicuity, periphrastically discussing America’s hatred towards half-breeds while the drinking crowd jejunely sojourns beer-spilled pool tables, football-adorned screens displaying meretricious cheerleader-laden sidelines.
Poetry by Nicole Yurcaba
-Beth Nelson
Photograph by Cara Walton
Two Poems on Life maestro
By Ryan Thomas
big bang
Artwork Ben Fraits How good it is -Iain Oldman How good it is to know you bleed! Just to think, you had asked me to dig up my old stroller.
Once again -Iain Oldman a simple picture you gave to me so many times given different thoughts re-interpreted a simple picture you gave to me to always keep you on my mind a simple picture you gave to me once again, buried deep in my glove box
Photograph by Cara Walton
Matt Hall HALL/PAIXÃO Opening Reception April 11th 7PM-9PM Right now, I feel like I’m living in one of my actual nightmares. It’s March 18th, the day after St. Patrick’s day, which is a holiday I promised myself I wouldn’t indulge in. Yet, here I am, hungover (still) and strung out in a gray, dingy basement with my co-editor Mike, sitting across from one of the people I want to partially blame for my fall from grace the night before. His name is Matt Hall, and he looks as unhealthy as ever- ashen, and bent over an easel propped up on his upturned leg. Illuminated by a single light bulb, Hall seems intensely focused on his work, an ink drawing he’s already a few hours into, staring at the paper with a beautiful hatred, moving his arms with a measured fever, and just as soon as I think I’ve lost him to a storm inside his own mind, he looks up at Mike and offers, “Need another beer?”
Yes. Yes, Mike does need another beer. Oh God, we’re drinking again! Mike and I brought over a twelve pack for the three of us to drink while we sat with Hall while he worked on his drawings for his upcoming show, which has it’s official opening reception on April 11th at the Blue Nile, but which will be on full display starting the Friday of MACRoCK weekend. However, the beer was a mistake. When I cracked open the pack, Hall took the first offering with hesitance. Hall speaks through a pen held between his teeth, and with his bushy mustache, every mumble he elicits looks like it’s escaping from a caterpillar resting on a twig. From this creature, he alerts us that he doesn’t drink while he draws. “Really?” I respond, “Because you drink heavily with everything else you do.” We all laugh, then he tells us “I’ve found the only thing I can draw after I’ve been drinking is dinosaurs,” and in the middle of the new uproar he assures us, “But I’ve been drawing those since I was four or five!” It’s at that point I kind of realized just how great at this Matt Hall really is. I can easily picture him drawing, like, really good dinosaurs at four or five because he’s just that talented. Hall only does ink and pen drawings, but goddamn, they are amazing to take in. His works are amazingly detailed, to the point where it’s almost unbelievable they are done without digital aid, and in the same space that we’re currently sitting in. This basement he’s set up shop at is a piece of unattended chaos. Its really a reflection of eventuality more than Matt himself, but I still don’t know how he battles suffocation here; the room is littered with, but not limited to, extension cords, pedal boards, drums, a traffic sign, multiple bikes, guitar picks, spray paint cans, flip flops, and bottle tops. Its so hard to imagine him working in this environment because his work is so polished. Despite an insane amount of detail, he maintains a keen sense of balance and depth that compliment
the subject instead of suffocating it. He props up a drawing of a shaman-looking figure wearing a deer skull, draped in a robe, and it physically hurts my brain to imagine him so tirelessly working on it, FOR HOURS, in a place that gives claustrophobics panic attacks. He places an emphasis on human error, or as Bob Ross would refer to them as, “happy little mistakes”. Talking to Mike about different graphic design software, he assures us he could do everything he’s done here on a computer, but it would take longer, and he wouldn’t like it as much. We’re shown one of his finished pieces, a woman’s body spotted with a warm, blood orange-pink and lines of blue and dark purple that blend in with the black ink, but the form is off, we’re informed: it’s more masculine than what a woman’s body would actually be like. “I’m a human” he tells us, “Even if I try to draw something symmetrical, it ends up asymmetrical.” I chuckle. It’s actually pretty evident. He weighs everything out, but sometimes his drawings are so busy that your brain will initially view his art as symmetrical, anyways. Once again, he places the importance on human error. “It gives a uniqueness to it” and he’s right.
All of his ink drawings are pieces that require time to soak in, and that’s because of the detail. You’ll get lost in his works, surveying every wrinkle in a black puddle, each pock of rotted bone, or each curve and body of a plume of smoke. Fascination settles in, and without your knowledge (or consent), you’re ten, fifteen minutes into absorbing a drawing, and you’re forced to take a step back and settle your brain. It’s hard to tell people that his works are pleasant to look at, though, because they’re not, due only to subject matter. I mean, when you’re looking at a skeletal figure in a tattered robe, holding his own intestines out in offering, it’s difficult to say out loud, “Oh, what a joy to look at!”, no matter how many Cannibal Corpse albums you know all the words to. Not all of his drawings are depictions of gore, but his works definitely have a darker tone than most artists. If he were a court illustrator, he would only work vehicular manslaughter cases or brutal custody battles. You know, that kind of dark. Holy shit, his stuff is good, but they’re definitely not for everyone (my mom would shake her head and move on). Even if Matt Hall is aware of this fact, he’s obviously unfazed by it. He knows his work, and he does it well. I’m watching him draw plumes of smoke shooting out of a mechanized man’s arms, and he floats through the process seemingly without effort. His hand glides over the paper, exposing a scene that only moments ago existed solely in the depths of his obviously fucked up mind. His use of space is incredible, doubly so when it looks like he’s just wingin’ it. Within twenty minutes, has it only been that long?, the page is filled out. He’s found his footing, and he’s going with it. He seems industrious when we’re not interrupting him.
That ease is the most pleasant part of looking at Hall’s drawings. When you view his works, you know you’re absorbing the work of pure talent, a quality that’s hidden in so many people, but utilized by so few. Thankfully, Matt Hall is breaking out, and that’s a benefit for everyone. His drawings are simply breathtaking at the basest level, and a portal into a sick, dark mind when properly appreciated. Hall is getting his coming-out party, and undoubtedly will soon be mentioned as one of the greatest talents today in Harrisonburg.
You can see Matt Hall’s works on display at the Blue Nile in Harrisonburg. The opening reception is April 11th from 7PM to 9PM.
WORSTWE
ALBUM R
EEKEVER
REVIEWS
Photograph by Ross Figlerski
The Bodies “Good Luck”
This two piece is a hard monster to take on. By eliminating the guitar or the bass, in the case of Harrisonburg’s The Bodies, you wipe out a wide range of frequencies that can leave you with an empty sound. The best way to eliminate this is to either layer tracks, invest in a lot of gear, or have a precise sound, and The Bodies do the latter. Their bright, wispy sound is pulled off without the need for low end. Instrumentation is where the brightness ends though, lyrically choosing a darker, melancholy direction. All of this is topped off with great dynamics and spot on guy/girl vocal harmonies. The 4 track EP, “Good Luck” is indie rock at its core, but dives into some mathy guitar riffs and folky harmonies, making it a well rounded, easy listen. Check out the new EP “Good Luck”, or catch ‘em at the next house show. thebodies.bandcamp.com
The Travellin’ Hillbillies Wild and Free
Cohesion is a hard attribute to fully capture in the current world of super-glossed, overly produced studio albums, yet The Travellin’ Hillbillies are able to capture that brotherly glue that makes their sound really glow in their debut album “Wild and Free”. Featuring three of the Garst brothers (Brandon, Ryan, and Shay) helps, but the addition of female country vocals that ring out over the strings produces a very rich, folksy tone that is carried throughout the whole album. It would be easy to pigeonhole the Travellin’ Hillbillies as a bar band, which they definitely are, but their song structure has ambition, and their technical ability is clearly head and shoulders above the rest of their ilk. Look for the Travellin’ Hillbillies to play Blue Hole Fest (April 19, Rawley Springs, VA) and Pinkstone Arts and Music Festival (May 15, Pinky’s Farm, WV- buy your presale tickets now) in the near future. thetravelinhillbillies.com
The Dawn Drapes “She”
In a genre choked by dull influences and drowned in teen angst, The Dawn Drapes bring a mature sound to indie rock. The Harrisonburg trio have a sound taken from the 90s, and then sprinkled with the spirit of the 60s and 70s. “She” follows the formula of any familiar pop album, starting off with catchy hooks and simple songwriting, with heavy keyboard depth to impress any fan of Ben Folds or Billy Joel. As the album progresses, so does the song structure, bringing in a classic rock sound. With folk verses, soft jams, and even some washed out, Pink Floyd-ish riffs, The Dawn Drapes keep it catchy while honoring the spirit of their forerunners. Check it out for yourself, “She” is streaming below: thedawndrapes.bandcamp.com/
Bishops “Silver Lining” A noticeable recent trend in the world of basement-dwelling indie rock has been the revival of washed out, simple college rock plucked right from the 90s. Martinsburg’s Bishops dives right into this world, but with a reverence and pluck that many of their peers seem to seriously lack. Their recently released cassette tape (appropriate) “Silver Lining” is surprisingly full bodied for a three piece, but the guitar punches out when it needs to, and weaves back into a dopey slumber that manufactures great accent, while the bass plods along, refusing to be ignored and adding great volume. The great thing about Bishops is their simplicity, as “Silver Lining” lacks any true, poppy hooks that clutter and confuse the songs. Tucker Riggleman plays deep chords that progress seamlessly, letting the songwriting carry itself, which is truly refreshing. Think the Toadies, but with vocals that fall out of Bishops’ mouths instead of being forced out. “Silver Lining” will be staying in my tape deck for the foreseeable future. “Silver Lining” by Bishops, released by Funny/Not Funny Records bishops.bandcamp.com/
Don’t Look Down “Heavyweight Champs” Don’t Look Down’s brand of pop-punk is familiar to anyone who has been through the formidable years of junior high and early high school and felt like an outcast. Tapping into the more hardcore influenced pop punk of New Found Glory or Title Fight, Don’t Look Down play catchy tunes scattered with gang vocals and the occasional guitar lick. This is by no means blazing any new trails, but with solid production and catchy tunes, Winchester’s Don’t Look Down have a release that will catch the attention of anyone stoked on this year’s Van’s Warped Tour. Grab some cheap beer and a slice of ‘za and stream the full album here: dontlookdownva.bandcamp.com/
Now booking shows for local and out of town bands, contact Michael Steele at
worstweekeverbooking@gmail.com
Details and form: Click Here!
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