By Lisa Marie

July 4, 5, 6
Winston-Salem, NC
www.heavyrebel.net

Ahhh, the Heavy Rebel Weekender. My one true summer passion; it’s what gets me through the cold winter months. This is my 3rd year attending the HRW and it has been the best year yet with something like 60 bands spanning three days. I didn’t get a chance to see every band that played for various reasons such as 1.) I was totally engrossed in another band, 2.) I was catching up with dear friends out on the dock and 3.) I was like the stealthy tiger, following the Hillbilly Werewolf in his shadows admiring from afar yet waiting to devour him whence I had the chance. But I did get to see an amazing amount of rocking bands and strange events whose tale I will unfold.

On Friday The first band I seen was the 7 Shot Screamers who were just as amazing this time as they have been the dozen other times I have seen them. A great, great punked-around neobilly band that won’t disappoint. Guitar player Sarkes even won the Crossroads guitar contest last year at HRW. This night singer Mike Leahy was all over the stage, collapsing, contorting, and dancing like a sweaty lunatic. After them the Lords of the Highway rocked the socks off the south as they played their country/punk/rock/polka with new drummer Pete, a.k.a. "Muscles." They pulled out a few surprises, such as Pete’s incredible drum solo on “Road Rage,” and their timely cover of “You're A Grand Old Flag” for this 4th of July concert. The Marauders were rocking out down in the Jailhouse at the same time, and it seemed the stage was way too small to contain their massive rockabilly explosiveness! This night they had a girl wailing on saxophone, which was an extra feather in their cap. Ben caught more of their set than I did, including what he says is their greatest song: the Western-tinged fatalistic ode to desperation called “My Revolver.” Upstairs afterwards The Brimstones brimmed with energy as they busted out their insane and satanic surf-infused garage rock. The keyboard player even did a headstand on his organ at one point in their crushing set.

The High School Hellcats were an amazing punk band that I really, really got into also. They were dirty, raw and sinister… I loved them! After them was Thunderosa on that stage, and they actually sounded better than on their CD (which had left me a bit cold). Probably the rawness and energy came through more in the live setting. But I have to say covering “Ace of Spades” and “Folsom Prison Blues” back to back is an egregious violation of rock’n’roll etiquette. I mean, those songs are the two most over-covered songs in history! I am formally calling for a moratorium on said covers right now! Following them was The Pits, who played one of the most extreme shows ever in the 3 years out of all the bands at HRW. It was chaotic, sloppy and obscene. It was beer-splattered and it was fucking rad! A barrage of beer cans pelted the band as they jammed out harder for the filthy miscreants who lapped up their music much like the spilt beer before them.

The Last Call Brawlers, hmmm. What can I say about the Brawlers? If you aren’t a poser pussy, if you need rock like I need cock, then you know what I am talking about when I talk about the Brawlers. Fuckin balls to the wall punkabilly that sounds like the Amazing Crowns stuffed into some wild Tucson delinquents. The 440’s after them also really kicked my ass as Wendy played lead and really took control of the band. They were tight and rough, pure rock’n’roll that fermented into pleasure chemicals for my saturated brain! In a night of tough choices, I stayed with the 440’s rather than set up camp with the Belmont Playboys, who were playing some really good surf when I stopped by. Later I went to see The Frantic Flattops and as usual was impressed by Frank’s songwriting and guitar playing. The bass player and drummer were great musicians as well, however, the band wasn’t as good this night as they have been the several times in the past I have seen them perform. I can’t put my finger on what it was, but they haven’t seemed the same energy-wise since Paul and Sid left the band.

I was front and center when Glampira took the stage, not to see her in particular, although she was a fine looking woman, but to be ready for…*sigh* The Hillbilly Werewolf. Glampira stood on stage, sang like two lines into the mic and then ran off in a panic of stage fright - straight out the door never to come back. In hindsight that was pretty goddamned hilarious. Then Hillbilly Werewolf came out and made me all dazed and disorderly in my shorts with his howling brand of back woods, rockabilly moonshine-elixir swamp boogie. I found his set to be way too short; but then again I find I can’t get enough of this half-man, half-beast delight. For those of you not familiar with the Hillbilly Werewolf it’s very frustrating to get a hold of any recordings or to even find out when he plays. He is a mystery veiled in folklore, and that is why I love him.

Saturday started off like any other day. I rose from my bed, wiped the sleep from my eyes and prepared myself for the events that lay ahead. No, wait…that wasn’t what happened. I woke up before my roomies Ben, Ezra and Lacey so I could drip acid into their ear canals while they slept. Unfortunately, they woke up and foiled my plans to erode their brains and use the hollow skulls as flowerpots to decorate my demonic abode deep in the heart of the Appalachians.


Frustrated and hungry we all then went to the Food Lion (where you go when your stomach roars) and bought beer and sandwich stuff, yay! Ben and Ezra shotgunned some beers and were quite buzzed after their chugging contest. They were hoping to get a jumpstart on the drinkin' so they wouldn't have to drop so much money on beer at the venue ($3 PBR's! what nonsense was that?) Although I wanted to see the Mud Wrastlin’ I adhered to Ezra’s wishes and waited for the event to be over before we went to the venue. You see, Ezra was the Luchador the very first year when the wrestling was done in Jell-O. He was the spindley masked man wearing a child’s spandex wrestling suit who did a backflip into the pit. He felt he wasn’t in form to compete this year and he was fearful of the strong sorrowful feeling that would surface if he were to witness the mud wrestling. Next year Ezra, you will wrestle and regain your title!