Semi-OK Issue 4 / Spring 2016

issue four

spring 2016

portland, oregon

hey, again since the last issue, the pound pit has closed, roommate drama is completely real, we got eddie officially on board with us (yes!!!), lots of festivals have taken place, and I partied at the cheeseboys one last time. You ever get nervous before you go to a show? But then once you show up and open a beer it feels like nothing was even wrong in the first place? I think it’s a type of therapy. Everyone huddled together for one purpose in a small basement, the only venue of it’s kind, cheap, nearly free, and it’s the kind of punk we aim to keep alive with this whole “collective” thing we have. It’s a blessing and a curse to have people around you who are so talented. I think I say this every time. Anyways, I’ve been thinking more of what it means to be an “amateur” artist. I hope that our collective takes the term amateur and interprets it into meaning where we don’t take ourselves too seriously, and that’s what makes us semi-ok, or amateur. It’s not that our craft, or ideas, or what we are making is amateur as in bad, just we don’t take ourselves too seriously, but produce music or art purely because we all feel like that’s what we need to be doing. I think I have gained this perspective since starting pnca last fall (frickn art school). purely making is the best feeling, and can compensate for the depressed state I am usually in. As artists, friends, we become more vunerable when we present our work (music, whathaveyou) and we can all relate that way. I mean we wouldn’t include so many liveagain articles if we were’t surrounded by partially-stable people. In 2016 depresssion seems like a necessiary evil, and maybe it is! but I truely beleive we can try to make our lives only a little bit better. Lately in the scene people have been starting more fights, blacklists have been introduced, and all while more houses are getting shut down for condos. what the hell is going on you guys? are we all confused, scared, little children still? dont answer that. but we are, and it’s frustrating. I’ve observed this trend of local artists, friends who you look up to, turning into people they had never wanted to be, and, personally, because they are taking themselves too seriously. All artists have this phase at some point, and i use the term artist loosely here. I think I feel a lot of change coming in the scene, and at least I can express my concerns on this platform. I HIGHLY encourage anyone who may feel the same or have opinions to email us, and to contine the discussion. anyways, I’m probably taking this too seriously. thanks mom and dad. shoutout 2 ur community & ur basement

xoxo love claire

i hello claire gunville

Hey! So glad everything is getting warmer. The people are getting warmer, the music, the shows, Jackson’s guitar tone…

Community warmth is pretty rad, but I know that it gets a little sticky over the summer. Anyways, I’m really excited for this zine release. People have been (tackling) their art with more respect and generally respecting themselves more, so props to that. I just moved out of my old house on Alberta and I am joyous and hopeful to start hosting quiet music/art/dance shows at the new place (wherever that may be). Naked Hour is gonna be on Good Cheer Records and that’s going to be a lovely experience working with so many artists and people that make the semi ok collective what it is. I’m not sure how personal this should be but I’m just gonna put it out there that these past few months I’ve grown the most I have in a while. Lets keep this radical culture growing. Love yourself.

On another side note: If anybody is interested in modern dance movement, or just wants to shake their body around to some groovy music, let me know! I have access to a beautiful studio and would love to explore body movement in conjunction with punk culture.

Lots of love, Tealie

teal bluestone

bonjour

ii

iii

mix cd ideas by teal bluestone

I’m both honored and stressed to be asked by Claire and Teal to serve as Semi-OK’s music editor. I’m honored, obviously, because it’s a blast hanging out with these two while thinking, provoking and documenting the great, big moment in positive and artistic ways.

But, there’s also the stress. And don’t get me wrong, it’s the good kind. Basically, I’m ever-aware of the great potential that occurs when I see a group of talented people organize together, and with that in mind I hope that I can help expand and support their vision. The stress comes now from that (and this) very issue, because I’m super aware that there is still a lot of work that I need to do to fulfill that promise.

We want to cover more music. More art. More literature. More EVERYTHING. In a way, it’s perfect that Claire and Teal have invited me to be a part of this project. Because, now, I know that it’s my job to extend that same invitation to you. We aim to not only continue to celebrate all the wonderful people we know, but also to merge that comforting familiarity into new and unknown communities. There’s probably no better forum than this to ask that if you are interested in joining us, and writing about the shows and art that we continue to discover, please do not hesitate to message us. Thank you, as always.

- Eddie

eddie charlton

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table

of

contents

01, 02..........art by max wilson 03..............you are not alone, eric snyder, liveagain.org 04..............crisis help in portland 05..............mr. wrong, mini blinds @ misconstrude shot by corbin 06..............sabonis @ rontoms, backbiter shot by corbin 07, 08..........moth by teal bluestone 09, 10..........erica schrenier photography 11, 12, 13, 14..collage art by matt dressen 15, 16, 17......I AM A WOMAN WITH HORSE LEGS AWKWARDLY CARRYING MY BOW AND ARROW by erica schreiner 18..............self 3.31.2016 by sydney boveng 19..............my therapist made me cry by delaney motter 20..............last summer photos by claire gunville 21..............the ghost ease @ mississippi studios & mic capes @ C3:Initative, shot by corbin 22..............blowout @ rontoms, basement benders shot by corbin 23, 24, 25, 26 interview with mo & blake from good cheer records 27, 28..........transcribed by eddie charlton 29, 30..........art by max wilson 31, 32..........boogers and birds by fiona woodman 33, 34, 35, 36..recent contact sheets by claire gunville 37, 38, 39, 40..fetch by chelsea crossett 41..............dowager, riled @ the last pound pit show shot by corbin 42..............being a living thing @ my friend ben scotts house & steel chains, shot by corbin 43..............macho boys @ the dark place shot by corbin 44..............summer cannibals @ mississippi studios shot by corbin v

table of contents

venues, resources, & infoshops in portland, oregon

The Know 2026 NE Alberta St. 21+ Mother Foucault’s Bookshop 523 SE Morrison St. Smart Collective 6923 SE Foster Rd. Anarres Infoshop & Community Space 7515 N Alma Ave. Independent Publishing Resource Center 1001 SE Division St. S1 4148 NE Hancock St. DISJECTA 8371 N Interstate Ave. Black Water Bar 835 NE Broadway St. Psychic Reader 3210 N Lombard St.

(are we missing something? let us know! email semi.okcollective@gmail.com)

RIP POUND PIT THE DARK PLACE CHEESEHOUSE

resources and venues in portland oregon

this publication was made in spring of 2016 and was released May 5th, 2016. made in portland oregon, printed and bound at pacific northwest college of art. shoutout to the c o m m u n i t y .

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01

max wilson

02

YOU

ARE NOT ALONE You, A DIY scene is all about doing it yourself… kinda. When it comes down to it, we can do very little ALONE. We need friends to lean on, bandmates to jam with, couches to crash on, acquaintances to access art supplies, basements for shows, artists to inspire us, and people to sit with us in our darkest hours.

I have personally struggled with depression, anxiety, and periodic suicidal thoughts for as long as I can remember. The three things I credit for the fact that I am still breathing are a community of people who care about me, art the helps me feel understood, and my personal willingness to ask for help when I need it.

I run a small local mental health non-profit (liveagain.org) that is focused on bringing mental health conversations and resources into communities of all types. Here is the deal dudes, 1 in 4 people will go through a difficult mental health struggle in any given year. That means you or someone you care about is going through some real tough shit right now and that shit can pile up quickly. My encouragement to you is to take a breath, put on a record, and get ready to reach out. Whether it’s asking for help for yourself or checking on a friend the time to act is now.

Some basic clues of mental health struggle to look for in yourself or others are reduced self care, personality changes, short temper, isolation/withdrawal, low energy, too much sleep or too little, loss of interests, and hopelessness. Furthermore someone who is having thoughts of suicide may give indirect verbal clues (ex. “I can’t do this anymore.”) or behavioral clues (ex. giving away prized possessions, increased chemical use). If you are concerned about someone start the conversation ASAP. Explain that you care for them and want to be there for them. If you are concerned about suicidal thoughts ask them directly (ex. “Are you thinking about suicide?”). NOTE: This does not increase the risk and can greatly lower anxiety when it comes from someone who cares about them.

Do not pass judgement or rush to solutions. Ask plenty of open ended questions and actively listen to them explain what they are experiencing. Help them connect to further resources and follow up on their progress. Below are some great resources for when you or your friend are going through a hard time. Do not hesitate to ask for help, know that you truly do matter, and understand you have a community that cares deeply about you. You are not alone.

Love, Eric Snyder Co-Executive Director of Live Again / Emo For Life

03 live again eric snyder

Crisis Help

Lines for Life: 800-273-TALK (8255) Crisis Text Line: For those who prefer not to call, text LISTEN to 741741 IMAlive.org : Crisis intervention through instant message (limited hours) Youthline (for Teens): 877-968-8491 or text teen2teen to 839863 TheTrevorProject.org : LBGTQ crisis line, chat, support center and community Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860 Multnomah County Crisis: (503) 988-4888 911: a Portland Mental Health Response Team is available 11a-11p

Cascadia’s Urgent Walk-In Clinic:

Mental health case management, counseling services, medication prescribing Open 7 days a week from 7 a.m. – 10:30 p.m.

4212 SE Division, Suite 100, Portland, OR 97206

Counseling and Referrals I strongly encourage counseling, but also know that finding the right coun-

selor for you may take time. Feel free to e-mail me at hello@liveagain.org for further suggestions regarding your situation. We connected to a network of counselors in the area that we can ask for specific suggestions based on situations (ex. best counselors for a 23 year old female in NE Portland struggling with depression and relationship changes).

crisis help

04

mr. wrong @ misconstrude

mini blinds @ misconstrude 05 corbin

sabonis @ rontoms

backbiter corbin

06

moth David and I looked over the ledge of my house, examining the people from

afar while finishing our coffee.

“Oh, did I tell you about the ‘the event’ that went down at camp?” His voice tampered, he made sure to keep a distance of one person in between us on the couch.

“I guess we didn’t have time to bring it up, with everything that has exploded recently between all of us.” I tried to keep my statements as calm and professional as possible.

“Well, I had a camper that I had to stop from jumping off a cliff.” He talked short with me now ever since I told him that anything between us would be just too much.

“You mean there was some camping adventure course and the camper just couldn’t complete it?” I always choose to use comedy as my defense mechanism whenever in doubt of what to say.

“No Teal, it was not an obstacle course. He was trying to… let himself go…”

David took the pauses to finish his coffee and appreciate the sun, so he closed his eyes. My facial expression contracted like a bow.

“David I’m so sorry, gosh I’m glad it was you though. Of course you were the person that made them feel okay. So, if I may ask, what was troubling the guy?” “ Well, the guy had recently transitioned from being a girl and I was the one who instigated the use of gender neutral bathrooms, so I guess he sort of just latched on to me. I ended up being the person to find him in the forest and we talked for two hours while the rest of the camp staff watched, but could not hear, from afar. Noah decided to finally make eye contact with me and I did the best I could to hold it there for a second but he knew that the sun and the coffee wasn’t enough to pull our emotional states together.

“What did he tell you in those two hours?” Now, he was resorting to pull out a cigarette, and I was glad that he could feel satisfied. That was something I could never provide.

“He said that he was a moth.” He lit the cigarette; it pierced through his lips, and waited for me to ask him to explain.

“In what way?” I let him get away with a dramatic pause in the story because God knows he deserves it.

“Moths have transverse orientation, by maintaining forward by a pathway of light they have awareness towards what direction they’re in, what is up from down. Without light, they become unable to navigate. And here is the catch, they’re nocturnal. To my understanding it was a metaphor for my camper being lost in

07

the dark, but venerable during the day time. I don’t know enough about moths to fully understand the parallels between the camper and a moth’s life style but, I have hunch that there are a few.” Feeling relived by being able to tell somebody about the experience he sighs. Takes another drag and then blood starts to drip out of his nose.

“David, David! Your nose is bleeding!” I didn’t even have a chance to tell him what I thought; he was already leaving the front porch to shove tissue up his nose. I sit with my mind stirring, what is the right thing to say to him? What could I possibly say to make him feel that I have looked up to him from the start? Since we were fifteen! All he has time to do today is to tell me this story and bleed on my front porch and then leave. I snap out of it when he comes back from inside and starts to speak.

“And then, we had our camp meeting, all the staff piled around in a circle.

There was a little candle in the center, lighting us in the middle of the night. We talked about tactics of what to do next, how to keep the campers from gossiping and making things go smoothly. Then, right in the middle of the circle a moth flew into the flame in the candle and blew up. And no one knew, no one knew the significance of the moth to me, so I started crying.”

“Oh god, David, geeze, that sounds like a lot for the second week of camp.”

I patted him on the shoulder, a safe bet as any. Then I paused, wanting to say one last thing.

“Are you going to date Stacy though?”

“Probably.”

“I’m glad, that will make you happy. I truly think it will.” And then his ride pulled up. He gave me hug and as I waved goodbye, I saw is little bloody tissue on the side of the road. It was like a little comedic gift to me, because the world knew that if there was something I needed that day, it was a laugh.

teal bluestone

08

09

erica schreiner

10

The world is fucked up. Sometimes it’s fucked up and awesome (like, say you’re in the band Fucked Up or something) but a lot of the time it’s just fucked up and shitty.

This simple fact is an “anything but” contributor to my “go to” natural instinct/social defense mechanism of using humor to offset the various producers and purveyors of negativity in both my life and in the lives of others.

Beyond just making fun of shit, I feel satire is at its best when it deconstructs harmful beliefs, actions, and ideas and builds a more thought-provoking, positive and (potentially funny) collective consciousness to take their place.

Making collages, for me, is the basic embodiment of that practice and process. Cut out some weird, disconnected media painstakingly. Collect images, words, colors and patterns that seemingly carry the absence of a message or purpose. Rearrange, layer and juxtapose to construct something new, something critical. Think thoughts, then create more. m

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matt dressen

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13

matt dressen

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I AM A WOMAN WITH HORSE LEGS AWKWARDLY CARRYING MY BOW AND ARROW

I waited in the lobby of a bar that was closed. I didn’t know it would be closed when I suggested we meet there. And it was so cold outside. New York’s winter this year has been frightful. I had been anticipating you for an entire week. Even though I had never seen you before, I knew this was to be no ordinary encounter. Your words contained all the stars. I was 7-years of choked back tears.

The moment I saw you, my voice ceased and I couldn’t make out a single syllable. My vocal cords transformed into cement and I became mute. My body was shaking and nausea confused my understanding. I was a mime. You were also a mime. We were smiling mimes.

At the bottom of the ice-glazed, stone metropolis, we two mimes, now numb, danced through the East Village until we found another bar. I don’t drink but I ordered a glass of wine because it felt important to drink with you on our first date. Shakespeare sat at the bar beside us and he wrote on a napkin about the ritual drinking between two mimes who had just met and were smiling with cemented vocal cords. We didn’t look over because we were looking at one another.

You paid. We left and went back out into the naked shivering of New York City’s streets. We were the only ones in all of New York who were smiling sincerely. We tiptoed through the snow until we arrived at the Sunshine Theatre.

I wanted to sit up close. You were unfamiliar with doing this. I love cinema. This is what people who love cinema do. They sit in the front row. Come on! And you followed me, but I could see the idea of the front row exhausted you until we were there and you could see it was good. The screen swallowed us. We were Manifest Destiny and the screen was all of the westward land that lay before us. We were embarking together. We had a dream. It is a beautiful thing to have a dream and to be with someone else who also has a dream.

The room grew dark as night fell. Yes, the movie began. You reached over, so brave, and you held my hand. As we held hands, it felt like… sex. Your hand on my hand was, yes, sex. Our hands were having sex. You put your arm around my shoulder. My body was touching your body in our movie theatre chairs. I was breathing. I could feel myself breathing so this was proof I was alive. I was breathing the way you breathe just before you are entered during sex. This movie. This foreplay. I couldn’t look at the screen because I was looking at your hand. Your hand on my hand.

Our hands having sex. I wanted to put your hand in my mouth. I wanted to fuck your hand. I wanted you to rip out my hair with your other hand while I fucked that hand, the hand that was holding my hand during the Westward Expansion. The arm rest wouldn’t budge. On airplanes they do, you said. That’s what I was thinking. I was imagining us on an airplane together. The next 100 years of my life would be spent on airplanes with you. Holding hands like this, traveling the world. We’d live our legacy, doing yoga and making art, fucking on airplanes. Discovering uncharted lands together. This is what we were meant for. Clearly. We held hands like this was the last day of our lives. Like we were just released from prison. This was the first hand holding that had ever been.

15

After the movie, I met your friends in the lobby. They seemed to be proud of you, like you were with a pretty girl. Good job, they told you with their eyes. We just met, but they could see it.

They could see that we looked good together. We have the kind of hair that matches. We were in love. Because when love is real like this, you know that quickly. This is how it goes, when it goes proper, you said.

It was less than 20 degrees outside. So freezing when we left the theatre. We needed to find shelter. And you were hungry. I was nauseas. We ran, holding hands. You knew this French place.

You knew the owner. You taught him yoga. You fucking teach people yoga. I can’t believe it. It’s like I’ve waited my entire life to meet someone this sensitive. This real. This magical.

We sat in a booth and removed so many layers. Our hands were touching. Our knees were touching. Our hearts were open and touching. You ordered a beer and I ordered a glass of wine. All I could think about was fucking you. Sex. Fucking. Fucking. Fucking. We were still holding hands.

We’ve never even kissed! How could I feel like this!? Like I’m in middle school! I’m 31. You’re 31. We’re 31 and it felt so adolescent. So illicit. Grown-ups don’t get to feel this. Whatever we were doing, it was alive and living. That was living. We had broken all the rules of time. Whatever grown-ups do was not that. We were not grown-ups. We were lovers. That is what it felt like to be in love. My god, the rest of the world was gone and there was only us. All I could hear was the sound of the ocean in this restaurant. I laid my head on your shoulder.

I leaned my face toward yours. I was terrified. I knew you wanted to kiss me too. Our lips had come so close. You were looking at my lips and I was looking at your lips and that moment was causing an earthquake. The crystal from the chandeliers was shaking down from the ceiling and falling all over our table and into my wine glass. Wine was splashing out and staining the tablecloth. The waiters had to brace themselves. The ceiling was cracking. The world was erupting. I buried by head in your shoulder without kissing you, because it was all too much. It was too much for me. It was too much for you.

The owner of the restaurant came over and shook your hand and you introduced me. I could hardly hear him over the sound of the ocean. The ocean was so loud and it was swallowing me. I managed to reach my hand out and shake the restaurant owner’s hand. I smiled and said the appropriate things, even though I was under water.

You said this is what it felt like to be present. We were fully in the moment! This thing, I’m always trying to do, to be. I was here. There was nowhere else. There was nothing else. Only us.

Forever. For everything that ever happened before now was nothing. Everything that ever would be was here. Be here now kind of here. My god, this was God. This was the Universe. This was love!

This is what love is, I thought. I am love. I am God. I lifted my face to your face and our lips, our lips, our lips touched.

When we kissed, the flowers of my skin bloomed in fast motion. I could smell the fragrance, like a wildflower in my grandmother’s yard. The rosebuds of my fingertips blossomed and contracted. The tips of my toes ballooned and germinated. Seeds fell. New life was made because of the blooming inside my skin. Fruit grew. I became fertile.

I didn’t feel afraid. I trusted you because my intuition told me that you were real and I was real. We were 16-years-old and naked, running down the street. Streaking and screaming and laughing and jumping in the swimming pools. Jumping on the trampolines of timeless youth. erica schreiner

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And then that timelessness was covered in a shadow by a future phone call. The flowers of my skin wilt and discolor. The scent of decay is putrid. My skin’s petals fall back to the earth and worms rise up and mull over the petals. The worms break them down. The flowers become part of the dirt again and they’re going to go through this cycle forever.

You become aware of your nakedness. We are Adam and Eve in The Garden. Adam is quick to fashion clothes from whatever scraps he can find and I still want more truth.

Your voice through the phone isn’t your voice. It’s a stranger’s voice. You’re backpedaling and you’re saying you don’t normally move this fast. You don’t think it’s healthy. My heart is breaking but I’ve barely met you in this life. Why does this feel like a thousand years of past lives together? Romeo and Juliet. The sirens are crying a shrill song for us. The heart of the Earth pounds. I try and act tough, but oh I can feel it, the earthquake in my heart. My heart splitting in two.

No, I won’t die! I just met you! I won’t die. I’m not going to melt on the phone. I’m going to play along and act normal because that’s what people do. But, I know this is wrong. This isn’t what we’re supposed to be. This is thousands of years of special people being forsaken. I still remember when we kissed, how all the stars fell out of the sky. So now, we must go back into the world and back pedal and hesitate, withdraw and protect. As we perform this new fucked up ritual, I am reminded that forever doesn’t last forever. My insides are turning to cement again but for a different reason. The Greek chorus weeps in song for us. Their bodies, robed, and their faces masked. One masked member from the chorus comes over to me and hands me his mask. I can see through the phone that you are already wearing a mask. I hesitate. I don’t want to put it on. Should I hang up the phone and watch the power go out? Should I hang up the phone and watch the city go black? Birds will fall dead from the sky. Airplanes will crash into the ocean.

I can’t hang up because I’ve already heard the ocean in us. I’ve already seen all the battles you’ve fought to save our love in all our past lives. I’ve ridden horses through the countryside, while being chased by gunmen. I’ve waded rivers, and crawled across deserts. I’ve found you a hundred thousand times before. So, when you send the chorus to hand me my mask in this life… I gently place it on my face and go along.

You are a crab who has retracted inside your shell.

I am a woman with horse legs awkwardly carrying my bow and arrow.

I look up and see you wrestling in the branches of the Tree of Knowledge. I want to avoid that thing, because I see you’re tangled up and stuck.

The devil comes. Looking like a beautiful snake. He convinces you first this time. You take a bite of the fruit. I just wanted to obey God. I just wanted to go with this. And suddenly you’re naked. You’ve fallen from the tree. You’re fashioning some clothing from branches and leaves and you’re forcing your fashion upon me. You’re shoving this fruit down my throat. I’m trying so hard to vomit. It’s not coming out. I’m dry heaving and the serpent is laughing. You’re adjusting your new clothes in the reflection of the water. As I’m heaving, trying to spit this stuff out, suddenly, I too, become aware of the knowledge of good and evil. And it’s too late. I run to hide myself from God. We make up lies. God knows that they’re lies. And so, he banishes us from our beautiful garden. And now we must spend the rest of our days toiling over barren land.

17 erica schreiner

sydney boveng

18

My therapist made me cry today. On purpose.

No, she didn’t do it to be mean or awful or whatever.

She held up a word that embodies my anxieties. She did it to see what would happen.

To see what my reaction would be. (I cried) I’ve just recently learned that the fucked up constant loud in my head has a diagnosis.

I hate that word. "Diagnosis.”

I still don’t know what this means for me.

I still don’t feel like I have anxiety.

This is the way it’s always been.

I’ve thought this way for as long as I can remember.

I do this weird thing when I’m with a boy I like (or maybe I don’t like) and we’ll be kissing or whatever and I’ll ask him what he’s thinking.

Virtually every time the response I get is "Nothing” I’ve never experienced that.

My head and the thoughts inside of it are always on. Always racing.

Always loud.

I wish my mind would go blank. I wish my mind would be quiet.

The word my therapist held up was "unwanted”.

19 delaney motter

claire gunville

last summer

20

the ghost ease @ mississippi studios

mic capes @ C3:Inititave

21 corbin

blowout @ rontoms

basement benders corbin

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Good Cheer Records interview with blake hickman & mo troper from good cheer

transcribed by eddie charlton 23

Good Cheer records first began in 2014 after founders

Blake Hickman and Morgan "Mo� Troper met the year before over a shared love and heritage of Portland DIY music and radio.

With the aim of putting out records "that carry the weight of artistic earnestness without affectation, irony or mer* cenary ambitions,� the duo found themselves amidst a wealth of quality musicianship and material through mutual friends that they had both grown up with and performed beside.

Beginning with seminal debut tapes by both Mr. Bones and Our First Brains, the label soon found itself working with other notable and rising artists such as Sabonis, Pass, Little Star and Troper’s own solo project, which, will mark the first vinyl Good Cheer release on April 29th.

In no time flat, the two have found themselves repre* senting a corner of the Pacific Northwest music scene that was not only desperate for a worthy documentation of its ef* forts, but also one that had become quickly beloved by music fans with a thirst for the unmistakable authenticity that is sometimes ignored by the more alcohol focused, classist and ageist mainstream community.

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We had the fortune of catching up with Hickman and Troper over coffee as they were continuing to plan and work their current releases while taking a moment to pause and reflect on their origins and future goals.

(Group hellos, smiles and drink orders) Eddie: So, what led to the creation of the label?

Desire for change?

Blake: Basically, ultimately the label started when Mo and I met, which is just that I invited him to perform on my radio show, not long after the Your Rival record came out. Then, we became friends in real life.

Claire: irl (laughter) Blake: We both really liked that first Mr.Bones tape, and Mo came up with the idea that we should put it out.

Mo:We had basically agreed to do a second run, since it had actually already been released, with plans to do a 7” that never happened (Mr.Bones/ Your Rival split). Which, that was what I really wanted to do since I liked the idea of putting out 7”s, since those are what I really love.

Teal: I think there’s a lot of people that deep down see it as a sort of universal ideal.

Mo: I really like the idea of 7”s, the lore and all that...

Eddie: It’s a nice bite-size symbol and there’s usually ones that represent a lot of scenes so well.

They’re also so expensive...

Mo: Agreed, they’re worth every penny because they look so cool.

Blake: That 7” was gonna be really cool, there’s three songs that were gonna be on it on that last Mr.Bones tape. But, I think we just weren’t ready just yet to release something like that. So, shortly after that first tape, we decided to do things like the first Our First Brains tape, and then a pattern developed of being given different opportunities as they popped up. Now, it feels like we’re more legitimate and we can think about things like

strategy and not just wait until an opportunity arises to put something out. Things started to change last year when it seemed like bands were legitimately excited to be working with us. There were little signs too, like national interest in the Little Star album. So, now, we’re at the point where things are starting to feel differently than they were at first. Despite that though, we’re still coming from an orientation where we just want to get to people what we feel is good music. I’ve wanted to do this since I was in high school. I’ve been doing radio forever, and the label is very much an extension of that.

Eddie: I remember reading in the Portland Mercury that you all were trying to spotlight music from the all-ages and DIY scenes, which I definitely feel isn’t as represented at times in Portland. Is that still a part of what you are doing? Do you feel like things are still as divided now?

Mo: I do feel like there has been more of an intersection recently, more than there has been in a long time. Little Star placing in the Willamette Week’s Best New Band thing was pretty crazy. I started going to shows in 2006, and back then it seemed that a lot of the bands that were playing house shows in the all-ages scene were also the ones getting the most publicity. But then, something happened, and those two things splintered off.

Eddie: I remember it, too, it was terrible...

Mo: So I feel like maybe those two things are coming back together, which is cool. And, I feel like if you’re someone who has come up playing predominately punk shows, then a bar is probably going to make you somewhat uncomfortable.

I know that I feel uncomfortable at bars. I don’t drink first of all. I’m not like straight-edge, but just not a huge “drinking guy.” I’m 24 and still feel nervous showing the bartender my ID. I just end up feeling like I did something wrong. So, if I can help it, I never really want to be involved in that scene. But I also think it is hard, like in general, to keep going to house shows all the time.

So, while we want to continue to spotlight all-ages stuff, it’s a challenge to have a label be something that our adult lives can accommodate and still be a part of that, too. But, that’s our goal.

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good cheer interview

Teal: How do you feel about the concept of “third spaces” like a coffee shop, art gallery or somewhere else. (Examples? inaudible) It seems like there’s a different culture of people going there that’s outside of the bar culture and the house show/party culture. Especially, after Backspace and stuff has closed down. It’s given that there’s a need for those, but only certain ones get a stamp of approval as like a “punk gallery” or something.

I feel like there’s a lot of room for development within those places, they can be celebrated as more cool and get people to volunteer and become active within the greater community.

Mo: I agree, I ran a spot like that for three shows at the (Amber lofts? inaudbile) and the problem was that we tried to do that. I tried to model it to some degree after Laughing Horse and it didn’t work. Like, the fire marshall showed up there after the third show, and it was also not the ideal area to be experimenting with something like that, it was downtown. There’s just a lot of hurdles like - how do you handle the zoning? Are you a business?

How do you make it sustainable. Like, Laughing Horse - pretended it was a bookstore. Nobody was buying those books, it scraped on by through shows. But, I feel like that kind of place is the best type of spot for punk, and has historically been that way. I don’t want to play some party house either, but the atmosphere can be nice and still have value.

Teal: So, are you trying to pull people from these different scenes together with the label?

Blake: Going back to what Mo was saying about Little Star sort of becoming this hot shit band in town. They contacted me to start sort of working in a management role of sorts since they were getting larger and larger show offers in town - multiple Doug Fir show offers and stuff.

Mo: Which, was never the case for bands like Our First Brains or Your Rival, which saw so much adversity from “cool” places like WW. It felt like we were constantly fighting for outside acceptance.

Blake: So, I feel like that’s an exciting thing, and hopefully we’re getting them some exposure outside of the DIY scene. I’m a populist when it comes to what is “good.” I want people from all walks of life to be able to enjoy it. I don’t want to see things put on some sort of pedestal. I’m a very open person, so that very much informs my approach to music. I mean, in terms of barriers, I don’t know if our bands have experienced anything. Mr. Bones are an interesting band. They’ve dealt with varying shades of acceptance.

Mo: They’re like the TV out of the window band...

Teal: And I feel like those places can serve the same purpose as a party -

Blake: Yeah, there’s such a difference. Like, Sabonis, just looks really cool. Each band has a personality. Mr. Bones is like a band that isn’t a part of the “cool” scene as much.

Mo: Sure, and you can still get fucked up. The atmosphere is still pretty similar to Holocene or some shit.

Eddie: There’s kind of an appeal in the anti-band thing, too. Not wanting to partake in that is also a pretty powerful statement. I guess it’s a fine line.

Teal: I think there’s a similarity, like Claire and I like to go to those places and interact and drink and it’s not just about the music, it can be more.

Teal: A lot of my friends have sort of reacted to that. Saying that they don’t go to punk shows anymore because it’s a lot of straight white guys who think they’re so awesome. It’s become a cool thing not to interact with that music, because it’s less and less relatable. It’s a touchy topic.

Mo: Which, I think is fine by the way.

Claire/Teal: I think what we’re trying to say is that we will go out and drink but not for the sake of getting fucked up, we like music and being social but it doesn’t have to be just one or the other. We want to be responsible and create an atmosphere but create something that can serve everyone’s desire safely and simultaneously without attitude.

Eddie: Which, is funny because the ways in which certain bands front and make style a sort of political topic is so strange since it’s for so little. Like, nowadays, there’s little to really gain. There’s not lucrative music contracts waiting for whomever is coolest for the most part. It’s mostly just people

featuring mo, blake, teal, claire, and eddie

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doing it because it’s their passion. It’s funny to see it so superficial in 2016.

Claire: Also, like if we, as women are “punk,” wouldn’t it make sense not to solely associate with traditionally straight, male music scenes. I feel like I deal with that issue in my head.

Teal: Growing up in SW and I remember being 15 and seeing Your Rival and Sloths and it was the coolest thing, even though I didn’t relate to it totally. I remember my Dad dropping me off at Laughing Horse in his convertible and being called a poser and stuff outside. I was 15! But, I was really excited to see some “punk rock,” nothing else really mattered yet.

Mo: Your Rival was part of the scene of predominately really heavy bands, anti-pop bands.

We would play with Grandfather and Sloths and in hindsight, that’s ridiculous to me. And, Your Rival was always the “sissy band” in that group. I think that now there is more sensitivity to different genres and personalities in DIY music, in the same way pop music has also benefitted from that.

It seems like pop music is cool again.

Teal: For me, just seeing Your Rival play with those groups and be okay with that, was cool and thought provoking. It made going to Laughing Horse something I could do more.

Mo: So, you say your friends give you shit for going to shows - even if its a pop band it’s still too much from a traditional male perspective.

Teal: I think, more, nobody is making the time to make it feel inclusive. There’s little sense of “okay make sure that smaller people can get to the front and see.” Even if it was with bands of girls, it’s still not the space that can totally open itself up to everyone.

Blake: I run two types of shows usually. I do punk shows mostly through the label, and hip-hop shows. I would much rather be the only white dude at the hip-hop show then the old dude at the punk show. But, I don’t have to worry about my own safety like women at shows. Still, I don’t feel as included there.

Mo: Especially not at a house. I’m sure Laken did a good job...

Claire: At the Pound Pit they had enough room to a good job. Also, the way they set up the bands was that everyone could kind of circle the band and see. It was cool. You could walk around the moshing and still see.

Mo: I have had a weird relationship with moshing in general. I started going to shows young and decided that it wasn’t something that I wanted to do.

Like, the weird $12 hardcore shows at Satyricon where the headliner was Ceremony and it was like “Beaverton hardcore yeah!” So, I tried it and tried to become aggressive, but it wasn’t until really like 2-3 years ago that it started to seem really old. At the last Laughing Horse show there were people doing that. Moshing is weird to me again.

Especially with pop music.

Eddie: So, I feel like we kind of got into the great conversation that I thought might happen a little later. To rewind just a little- do you intend to continue to mostly be a Portland label into the future?

Blake: We have done some tapes with Seattle artists. We did a solo tape with Jason Clackley. We’ll probably do his next solo album too. Then, we’re gonna be working with this band called Churn, who are from Walla-Walla.

Eddie: I like that band name.

Blake: That band is the best band that noone has heard of here. Once people get acquainted with them they’re gonna lose their shit. They sound like super melodic shoegaze, but really punk oriented. Jason Clackley recommended to me that I check them out and they played a show with Mr. Bones up in Washington, and after that, I just kept hearing about them. So I feel like we’re more of a Northwestern label, but we’re at an advantage focusing on Portland because it’s way easier for us to get local press.

Eddie: I feel like for a while, Portland just needed more active labels in general, or at least what I identified as a Portland label. It seemed like there were Portland labels based here but they didn’t focus on any real Portland scene.

Teal: Yeah, and I feel like there’s an ownership to being like “this is our label” or if someone says they want to hear some Portland bands and you

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good cheer interview

can refer them to a label.

Eddie: To be a go to source, right away.

Teal: For instance, when I was a kid, my dream was to sign to K Records, move to Olympia, etc.

I had this whole map, because of the culture.

But I had a moment like, wait, that type of thing can happen in my own hometown. That sense of “ours.”

Mo: Yeah, that was definitely important to me, to have something that felt like a document of what was going on. That’s what records have always meant to me in general. And the records I’ve made. I don’t know, this sounds cliche, but like photographs or whatever.

Blake: Something to look forward to is doing the second releases for all of our bands. Which, is like we do the next Mr. Bones release, and we do it better. Or, for instance (turns to Mo) we did the Sancho thing last year, and now we’re doing your solo record this year. We still want to work with new bands like Churn, but if we do, say, the next Sabonis record right, it could be something that could change thousands of people’s lives. (laughter) I’m serious, man.

And, it’s not a question of like “this is gonna buy me a Cadillac,” but I think it could be something that could impact people in a positive way.

Teal: That’s what it is!

Eddie: Albums will live on a lot longer than any memories or experiences of a live show, really.

That’s what I love about them.

Mo: The Sabonis thing for me was sort of a culmination. It was very personal. I had known all of them since I was 14. To work with them, pretty much ten years later, was a culmination. We had actually talked about that EP in the very beginning, before our first release. We actually went to Powell’s and bought a book about releasing a record (laughs).

Blake: It had a big picture of a CD on the cover...

Mo: I felt like nobody was going to take a chance on that stuff if it wasn’t us. With Mr. Bones it certainly felt that way and with Sabonis, it felt like they could have done something without us and it have been just as successful but working with us, and knowing that I was going to be probably more invested than anyone else, was special. I might move to L.A. later this year, so I don’t know what that will mean for the label, if we expand. But, maybe that’s how it always works for labels. They start out local initially and then grow. Like, look at Dirtnap. Dirtnap was only doing Portland punk bands, and then started releasing records from all around the country. So, if a label is growing, you don’t want to limit yourself, but try to keep what made it special in the first place.

http://goodcheerrecords.bandcamp.com/artists

featuring mo, blake, teal, claire, and eddie

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max wilson

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boogers and birds She breathed in and exhaled, coughing. Teetering for a moment, she folded into a squat

and picked up the last box. As she passed her neighbor on the sidewalk, their eyes met and she spat in the gutter. Ignoring his following gaze, she heaved the box into the back with a loose grunt, slammed the hatch down and then slid into the driver’s seat. She caught her eyes, cloudy and wet, in the rear view mirror as she jerked the truck into reverse and clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip. Pinning her left hand between her knees, she swung the steering wheel around tightly with her right, her elbow flying behind.

As she drew to a stop at the intersection she noticed the man in the car beside her, dressed in a sharp business suit, savagely digging into his nostril with his pinky. She remembered how she used to watch as her leggy coworker Audrey would bend over in her cubicle and mime tying her shoes while sticking a finger up her nose. Before she could stop herself she would be up out of her chair, walking past Audrey and murmuring something like: “you should really try a double-knot”, to which Audrey would pop back up with her painted brows furrowed in suspicion and betrayal. On the walk back to her desk, she’d feel a wave of warmth spread over her face, a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and unjust pleasure.

Idling at the intersection, she continued to eye the man in the shiny sedan, as he continued to appraise the mucus lodged under his fingernail. She thought about how, as a child, she’d run circles on the hard caked dirt of the baseball field, dragging her feet and stirring up a massive dust cloud. She loved that smell, like hay – the smell of dry, sun-warmed earth. When she’d return to class, she’d excavate the chunks that had amassed inside her nostrils as furtively as she could, collecting little piles in the cubby under her desk.

It was dark when she arrived at the new apartment building. For a while she remained in the truck. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and crushed her hands between her knees. She stared at the front door for a moment, then breathed out in one hard, harsh gust, and got out of the truck.

She walked up the front steps and rang the buzzer. An older woman came and ushered her inside, up three flights of stairs and through a door labeled #23. The space was small and dark and strangely shaped, with alcoves and closets in odd places. It smelled like musty wet paper.

The woman asked her if she needed help with the boxes, and she said, “no thank you”. The woman urged, “it would really be no problem, I sure as hell got nothin’ else to do tonight” to which she replied, “please, no. Thank you.” The woman stared at her mouth before saying, “well okay then” and turning to walk out the door.

The inside of the moving van was a bulging mass of brown cardboard, with a few chair legs and frayed rug ends poking out at odd angles. She shimmied a box out from the heap and carried it into the building.

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In the middle of the living room, she tipped the box upside down and a wad of papers flopped out onto the floor, a few receipts and scribbled napkins making a slower descent. She knelt in front of the pile and took inventory. There were old essays that had comments like “disappointing” or “half-baked” written on them in red pen, emails she had printed out from old coworkers that said things like, “we went out on a limb for you this time, don’t drop the ball again”, valentines from grade school classmates that had her name written on them with a big blank space underneath.

She reached down and swirled her hands around in the pile. The window blinds shuddered and tapped against the windowsill while someone honked three times out on the street below.

As if in response she sighed and pulled herself up off the floor, rubbing her knees, and walked out her door. As she walked down the front steps she noticed something spastically fluttering in the gutter by the moving van: a pigeon with its wing wrenched the wrong way. Clasped in its beak was a torn napkin covered in food stains and looping black script. Its head reeled around and one yellow eye fixed on hers. She took off her sweater and gently wrapped it around the creature, wincing at its fevered flapping and squawks of protest. She ran past the landlord’s door, willing the bird to recognize the risk – but its cries echoed through the hallways as she sprinted through them, hugging the bundle to her chest.

She swathed the bird in a nest of towels in the bathtub and sat on the toilet to examine the napkin scrap. In winding crooked handwriting, it read: the roof of my mouth is sore from rubbing my tongue against it, sampling words before rejecting most. they roil around my head, crouch at the back of my throat and lay slack and shrinking. coaxing them out can require someone else to step inside, close the door behind them and sit very still – let the silence hang unpunctured until these words start to slide down the tip of my tongue and fall out, where it’s too late to stuff them back in. they’ll have to remain there, chewed up and bare. but they’ll be solid and they’ll be mine, and once I see them they’ll be beautiful to me.

She looked up at the pigeon. It had become very still, its head bent awkwardly to rest on the towel folds, with one yellow eyeball maintaining its gaze on her. She held her head in her hands and gazed back. A minute stretched into many and the room remained still. After sitting so still for so long that her muscles began to ache, she stood up and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were wide as she watched her mouth say, “okay”.

fiona woodman

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claire gunville

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claire gunville

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FETCH

b y c h e l s e a c r o s s e t t Fetch began as a class assignment on fashion and at the time I was looking at/getting introduced to artists like Petra Collins and Arvida Bystrom. I love their bold, no-bullshit approach to the concepts they wanted to discuss. I was also heavily into my thesis at the time and needed to work with something that was playful in the production but impactful in the message. I did a series on trends in fashion regarding religion/spirituality—one specifically with witches and the over-usage of upside crosses and pentagrams(5 & 6 are a part of that) and another on self-portraiture in style of great female symbols like Mother Teresa, the Virgin Mary, and Guadalupe(4 was one of them). The pink/blue series specifically dealt with gender roles and I can make a separate artist statement for that since it looks like these are the 3 you’ll be focusing on in this issue. The first image I took from that series was the glitter penis. I was on Tumblr one day and came across a glitter tag that was specifically focusing on female breasts and butts covered in glitter and moving in slow-motion as the glitter would shimmer and fall away.

It was totally mesmerizing but I didn’t understand why I wasn’t seeing any men with glitter on their bodies/genitals.

The second image that was produced was the hand. It was initially a fist and was going to be cropped into a background of the venus/mars symbol but then I just kept things simple since the color of the scar on the thumb worked so well with the fingernails.

Fetch is a call to take back power for ourselves. The conversation surrounding sexuality and gender roles is absolutely crucial right now but it should also be a fun time as we begin to learn more about ourselves and experiment with who we are and how we want to be viewed.

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chelsea crossett

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chelsea crossett

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dowager @ the pound pit

riled @ the pound pit

41 corbin

being a living thing @ my friend ben scott’s house

steel chains corbin 42

macho boys @ the dark place

45 summer cannibals 43

corbin

summer cannibals @ mississippi studios

corbin 44 46

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Our collective is at we continue to grow, the many ideals that to reach our goal of artists.

first a community. As we wish to uphold will make us able remaining wholesome

The punk culture itself has a history of slurs that are not safe. We do not tolerate racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, classist or any other bullshit prejudiced attitudes.

With that being said, we want to create a space where the exchange of new ideas and informative collaboration can take place.

We want to learn. Please speak up if you feel that we are not being inclusive.

Let’s all take part to actively redefine, while retaining what makes this DIY space special -- us.

email us: semi.okcollective at gmail.com semiokcollective.com all art remains intellectual property of those who created it. be nice. help your neighbor.

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