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Humorous Darkness: The Art of George Alexis

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You might know George Alexis from his show on WRIR, The Horsehead Nebula, but he’s also a visual artist whose work mixes a dark sensibility with odd humor. George Wethington spoke to Alexis to get a closer look at the unique mind that produces his intriguing, unusual art.

Context is everything. What does it mean to observe an artist? I’ll forgo the sanctified condescension of asking what an artist is. But I can’t forgo the need to contextualize the person I am speaking with. That thought was beneficial to me as I spoke with George Alexis, a visual artist in Richmond who has a refreshing and comedic style that is realist and often dark. Alexis may also be known around Richmond for a late-night black metal program he did for WRIR called The Horsehead Nebula, named for a dark nebula in the constellation of Orion.

The image of an artist is always removed from the original source of creation and inspiration. In the same way I must reduce an artist into words so you can have at least a fuzzy inclination of what they might be like, a smoothed residual image must be created by astronomers in order to study the vastness of a galaxy. That image is created by placing a two-dimensional window around pixels of light, and then averaging differences into a single pixel. With that in mind, I will put on my space suit to collect the images, provide a two-dimensional framework through which to perceive him, and together, we’ll figure out if these few pixels are enough to understand George Alexis. 

George Wethington: You are a visual artist and there are intrinsic things about your approach. One of those things is the balance between morbidity and humor, darkness and light. With that in mind, what were your formative cartoons?

George Alexis: Wow, that’s a good question.  I watched Ren and Stimpy for sure, plenty others that were relevant for a kid born in the early 90s. As far as formative cartoons go, we talked briefly before about things being residual. So, for me there was never like a one thing where I was like, “Ahh, that’s the one!” Instead, you look at everything years later, and say, “Oh, there’s a little bit of this, and this. There’s that, and that, and this.” And then you go back and look at something and say, “That’s cool.” But I didn’t see anything like that back then. 

GW: Absolutely.

GA: I think when I was younger, I really wanted Ren and Stimpy to be a formative experience for me. Not, like, when I was a kid watching, but when I was in my early 20s and late teens. But it wasn’t. [Laughs] You know, you want to make something like Ren and Stimpy, because for the time it was cutting edge, and edgy. You can’t force that stuff.

GW: Also, keeping in mind that it was hilarious.

GA: Aw, it was so funny dude.

GW: For me, seeing something like Ren and Stimpy when I was a kid, there was an aspect to the scenes that would be particularly grotesque, or just a little bit more over the top: there was this sense that I couldn’t pull away from it. Did you feel the same way as a child?

GA: I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Because when you’re a kid, there’s nobody to tell you that this was wrong or bad.

GW: Oh, your parents didn’t tell you that you couldn’t watch stuff like Ren and Stimpy?

GA: No. I guess that’s something to mention, that I was very uncensored as a kid. My dad gave me Alien and Predator to watch when I was under ten years old. I was always exposed to that stuff. I remember my mom made me watch the scene in Jurassic Park where the guy gets eaten on the toilet. I was old enough to comprehend and be scared by it. 

GW: So your parents were like, “Let the boy watch and understand.”

GA: Not even that. I just don’t think they cared. [Laughs] Both of my parents had to work, I had no one to watch me, other than babysitters and stuff like that. But their vested interest was simply getting bread on the table and making sure I didn’t burn the house down. I was unsupervised a lot. I got to go play outside a lot. I was also a pretty behaved kid. I didn’t do anything that necessarily warranted strict supervision.

GW: You were given this access to what could be somewhat jarring videos, movies, or cartoons and you internalized a little piece of each one that inspired you at the time, that you thought was cool. That’s pretty cool.

GA: I found some stuff scary, but it was tapping into the primal fear that little kids just have. There was an episode of a cartoon where they are afraid of a blanket under the bed because they think it’s a monster, and to me that was really scary. And it genuinely scared me, like I was legitimately afraid to watch it, but you look back on it now and it’s the least scary thing in the world.

GW: But at the time…

GA: Yeah. That’s what every kid feels, you know? Watching something like Ren and Stimpy… oddly enough, there wasn’t any fear there. It also didn’t occur to me that it was supposed to be ironically funny. To me, it was just a funny cartoon.

GW: Oh yeah, as a kid I did not catch the irony at all.

GA: I liked the “Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!” song because I like the crocodile-looking guys who sang it. That stuff appealed to me, but at no point did I look at it and think, “This is disturbing and I must know more.” It just wasn’t disturbing to me. Honestly, what is kind of funny is I still have that now. I don’t think the art I make is that disturbing. I don’t think it is that weird.

GW: The thing that I have noticed about your art, which is good that we are touching on a cartoon like Ren and Stimpy so heavily, is there is a darkness and a silliness there that exists right next to each other. I know there are plenty of cartoons that we would be able to reference that have this exact thing, but it drives me to the question: when did you feel comfortable imbuing darkness into your own art? Or was that always just a natural product, because you did not believe that there was anything wrong with it?

GA: I don’t think I ever had a moment where I was uncomfortable sharing my art, except for when I was in San Diego. I was working with a lot of artists at an art supply store, and I was very nervous to show them the art that I was making, because I wanted to make a good impression. That’s when I made the realization that maybe people didn’t see it the way that I saw it. Before that, I never really felt uncomfortable making weird shit because I didn’t care what people thought of me. I was incredibly self-conscious — you know, wondering if people liked me and all that. But it didn’t click to me that people would think my art was weird. I was like, “Nah, they’ll think I’m cool and edgy.” [Laughs] At no point until then was I worried if someone was going to be disturbed by it.

It was like, “I’m really worried about how unlikable I am. But this drawing of a piece of shit coming out of an asshole and talking and smiling and saying stuff, this is what’s gonna get people to like me!” It never occurred to me that that would be why people wouldn’t like me. It was always like: “This is my saving grace.” Not being a normal, social being, no; it’s going to be this gross weird shit, and people are gonna see it and go, “Oh wow, you make really cool art.”

GW: [Dying laughing] Get the guy who’s drawing poop coming out of a butthole over here now, let’s party! 

That is so interesting and a bit of a surprise to me. I guess when I was looking over the images I started to romanticize this tortured spirit who wanted to work his through adversities. 

GA: There is definitely anxiety there, and dark thoughts there, and all sorts of shit that is really harrowing. And really, just stuff where I’m glad I’m in a different place now. But it’s residual. I’m not necessarily conscious of those things as I create. Those things are there as I formulate ideas, but it is never until I’m more lucid that I harness anything like that in a focused way. 

GW: Right. Like I said, there is a desire to romanticize that process. I guess it is easier from my perspective to say that A+B happens, and C comes along. It is interesting to hear you say and articulate something that is definitively true of life, art, any other thing; it is never just one factor. There is no formula to it, you just make dark art that is also funny. 

GA: I think of my darker pieces kind of like clowns, in a way. I’m not big on clowns. I don’t draw clowns. They are funny, and friendly-seeming, but there is an implied deception. 

GW: That is very interesting, and I see what you are saying. Clowns get a bad rap though. After Stephen King, things got tough.

GA: And let’s not forget John Wayne Gacy.

GW: Ah yes, lest we forget.

GA: A lot of my darker images, the characters are all smiling. They’re maniacs. They are here with malevolent intentions. There is an implied invader aspect to all of them that creates this trepidation to see them. They are planning. They are conniving. 

I showed them to my therapist, and he said, “Well, they are all smiling, so it’s not too bad.” And I understand what he meant. On a primal level, I can’t create when I’m in that place with those characters. I have to have some level of warmth, or levity, or mirth to get going. A lot of people will romanticize the artistic process and say, “Oh, well you make the best work when you’re depressed.” 

GW: I think there is a line out there that says, “If everything was going well, who would want to write a song?” 

GA: Exactly, but at the same time, when everything is going well, that’s when you produce the song. You can write a song whenever you want; you can make an image whenever you want. I think there is a difference between simply expressing, and expressing in a more focused and structured way, and that’s hard to do when you’re depressed. When you get in a depressive episode, and you are that depressed, it’s hard to make shit. It’s hard to do anything. It’s hard to function.

GW: Yeah. If I’m depressed enough, you can call it a fucking day.

GA: Exactly. You don’t use those times to harness those things. Instead, you tend to sit there, or lie there, or not do anything and be completely unproductive. All my art is produced in a time of good mental health. 

GW: It sounds like the ideas are formulated for you at times in a time of darkness, but they are not able to be articulated until you have found your way out and into the light.

GA: Right. We’re always going to carry our baggage with us, so if you think of something dark, and you observe it, allow it to pass, you can harness it for later. There is a weird creature that I draw that kind of manifested as a symbol for this exact thing, my depressive episodes and their modes and stages. It’s this blobby guy that kind of looks like a hammerhead shark, which I think came along because hammerheads look dangerous but are inherently peaceful. I can’t say that’s for sure why they look alike though. 

GW: That is awesome. We talked about darkness and light. We mentioned silliness and the characters that you make. We spoke that some inspiration has come from a negative place, but the characters are produced in a non-threatening place in your mind. Is that from a darkness you feel the need to get a grip on, or was that something you were only made self-conscious of once you had to present it to San Diegans?

GA: Probably the latter. At the time I don’t think anything that I make is weird, because it is just self-expression. It just makes sense to me. And some of it, of course it’s weird, but why would anyone be weirded out by it? We consume all sorts of weird media. People love horror movies. Any of this stuff is common in horror movies.

GW: In terms of weird media, the news.

GA: [Laughs] Yeah, the news is not as smiley, it tends to be a little more doom and gloom. 

GW: To drive the point though, darkness is a part of life. It has been so interesting talking to you. At first, I thought you would be coming from a point of almost working your way out of a jail cell, using humor to do so. Instead, it has been this wellspring of intelligent human comedy that just has this dark aspect to it. It is cool to see how the human spirit can manifest itself in so many different ways and still find itself relatable. Some of the more out-there images you have are still something that can bring a smile to my face. 

GA: When I make these drawings, all I want to do is make a good drawing. I don’t think too much about the unpacking part. That comes much later. I start with forms and shapes, and develop those, and anything else is just the process of making the drawing more interesting from a compositional standpoint, if there is not enough there. You create a scene. If it is particularly dark, you create a character that is afraid, or a protagonist to have someone to relate to. You create contrast, and thus the story is told. 

GW: The smiles are really what makes it all so funny to me. Even if it is scarier, it doesn’t necessarily make you afraid.  

GA: Making it too scary wouldn’t make sense because once again, that’s what gets people to like me. [Laughs] Cognitively, I’m a likable enough guy, I have friends, and a healthy relationship. But deep down, I source some of my self-worth in these drawings. When the art is an extension of yourself, you never set out to make anything in one particular way. You just make something. It’s like speaking. We have our own vocal intonations. 

GW: You just talk.

GA: Exactly! I just talk. How do you pick your nose? I don’t know, I just pick my nose. That’s how it is with this stuff. I just make it. Now that I’m older and more developed, I understand how it can come off, but I just make it at this point. 

GW: You’re not imprisoned by darkness; weird things are cool. I think it’s the folly of anyone with a preconceived notion, to set out with a presupposed idea. It’s interesting to see how far off I was. You can’t put anyone inside of a box. 

GA: For me, it is the constant pursuit of making a drawing visually interesting. 

GW: You kill it when you do it. 

Images courtesy George Alexis

WRIR Goes Remote

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With the pandemic stretching on for most of the past year, Richmond’s original community-oriented low power radio station is staying on the air with the help of a dedicated squad of volunteers.

WRIR 97.3 LP-FM, Richmond’s only independent community radio station, has always been rough and tumble. From its humble beginnings broadcasting online in 2004 and its FM debut on January 1, 2005 to this very day, the station has been on-air for fifteen years straight, continuously fueled by its DIY energy and the tireless determination of its all-volunteer staff. DJs, reporters, station managers, and more have all banded together through thick and thin based on a shared commitment: the desire to make great radio.  

When the coronavirus hit the United States in March, all branches of the media, including local radio, were taken off guard. The music scene here in Richmond was effectively shuttered as venues were forced to close. Musicians suddenly found themselves without an audience, and music lovers, required by state mandate to stay at home, felt their grip on the city’s musical pulse quickly begin to slacken. For a few scary moments, it seemed the connection to Richmond’s beloved music scene would be completely lost.  

But this only revitalized WRIR’s commitment to be there for Richmonders when the community needed it most.  

Led by the station’s Operations committee — the volunteer team that handles all technical and behind-the-scenes aspects of broadcasting — WRIR quickly and efficiently enabled its studios so that DJs and show creators could broadcast entirely from their homes. This made it easy for only one person to be in the studio at a time, minimizing contact with other volunteers while also keeping the station clean and safe for others to use.  

Bill Lupoletti, host of “Global-a-Go-Go” (Photo by Alyssa Salomon)

Melissa Vaughn, WRIR’s station president, recalls the mad rush to get the station’s regularly scheduled programming ready to operate remotely. “It was the weekend before St. Patrick’s Day,” she said. “The first thing I did was confirm that we were still the official station for statewide emergency  services. Then I knew we had to make sure our DJs could broadcast from home.”

Vaughn remembers many late-night discussions on Slack, the workplace communication platform, with the Operations team. “Working at 1am, 2am, they were brainstorming scenarios and ways to make this transition as quickly as possible. They were doing such great work.” 

While most of WRIR’s volunteers are able to use the station’s equipment for their shows with only a little bit of training, understanding the technical layout of WRIR’s broadcast studio can be complex. So to set up a remote broadcasting system, the solution had to be reliable and easy to  use. This led Peter Taffs and Zachary Klosko, two integral members of the Operations team, to begin testing and troubleshooting different network designs.  

“All of the members helped out to contribute to this model,” said Taffs, “and it’s worked out really well. It took probably a week from the first idea, to two weeks for the final product. All we had to do was set up an Icecast server” — an online service that allows broadcasters to route their shows from one location to another via the Internet — “and load their programs onto the stream. So all DJs had to do was be able to configure their own computer. Working with automation helped facilitate this process, but ultimately it really is that simple. And it’s all free! I like free stuff.”  

Zachary Klosko, Operations member (Photo by Zachary Klosko) 

Using the automation stream as a way to work around having an in-person board operator was Zachary Klosko’s idea. “It kind of felt like selling your soul, because we always have someone in the studio,” said Klosko. “But it turns out it was something that really saved us in the moment.” The solution was a program called LibreTime, which allowed shows to be pre-set remotely, and to air according to that schedule. “It wasn’t easy at first, but after experimenting  with some programs, we found a model that worked. Now Melissa [Vaughn] can pre-program the entire news/talk schedule the night or week before.” 

With the prototype for a remote broadcasting system in place, the time had finally come for it to go live. One of the first DJs to test it out was Sean Lovelace, host of “The Heavy Cosmic Rotation.” His show was on the Monday that the prototype was finished, so after Sean had hosted a two-hour show successfully, the Operations team was ready to share their project with the rest of the station.  

Otto Konrad and Carol Olson, veteran show hosts and both former board members of the Virginia Center for Public Press — the non-profit that operates WRIR — have been impressed with the station’s transition. “You know, there’s not some organized primer for how to remote broadcast,” said Konrad. “It was all set up by our volunteers. And to see how independent and DIY our station has been over the years, I think we really are the only community radio station in the country that has this culture. It’s a pretty incredible thing.” 

Otto Konrad, former VCPP board member, in Studio Two.

“I thought the Operations team did a great job,” said Olson. “The switch made it easier and safer for us, and it really helps anybody who wants to broadcast remotely. Plus, having the ability to do so will have less wear and tear on the equipment, which will help in the long run.” 

In the months after WRIR first went remote, Olson was even more impressed with the results of the Spring Fund Drive. “I’m so excited that the volunteers raised the standard amount of money for our fund drives. It was a great example of seeing our community come together when we needed them,” she said. “Because we are the last independent voices in the country. Most stations are owned by companies, but we are not. Independent media is one of the last places for free and accessible information for everyone. You don’t have to buy a subscription here; you just have to listen to us on the radio.”

Having established a reliable alternative to in-studio broadcasting, the Operations team continues to monitor their progress and seek out ways to improve. But as many of the DJs and hosts have utilized this new platform, the station’s volunteers have been quick to offer messages of hope. 

“You know, somehow we managed to get on the air in January 2005,” said Bill Lupoletti, host of “Global-a-Go-Go” and inaugural member of the WRIR staff. “And that was hard work. We got on air, but we didn’t know what would happen in February. It was just a single-minded kind of focus. So in  the right or wrong situation, people can really do anything. There are a lot of things that people can do that they think they can’t do.” 

Carol Olson, former VCPP board member and host of “Women in Politics,” in her home studio.

Peter Taffs agrees. “The resiliency from the volunteers is very good, and the commitment from our DJs is fantastic,” he said. “I’ve been glad to see how people adapt. Moments like that give me hope.” 

With no signs that the coronavirus pandemic will be giving up in the near future, WRIR’s remote operations will be part of the station’s new normal. But this is hardly a concern for Melissa Vaughn. “I have to say that when this first happened, nobody said, ‘We can’t do this.’ Nobody,” she said. “We were always open to getting through it. And anyway, we don’t believe in defeatism! If something is in our way, we move past it.” 

That resilient, community-focused, and DIY mindset is one that we all can aspire to as part of  our new normal.  

Top Photo: Peter Taffs at WRIR studio

The Beautiful Game Meets A Beautiful Life

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Rachel Scott Everett pays tribute to beloved local podcaster Daryl Grove, who passed away from cancer last week. Host of the Total Soccer Show, Grove was a soccer enthusiast who brought his love of the game to many in Richmond and beyond.

Last week the world lost an inspiring soccer enthusiast, devoted friend, and all-around good human being. Daryl Grove, co-founder and beloved host of the wildly popular podcast, the Total Soccer Show (TSS), based here in Richmond, passed away after a nearly two year battle with stage IV colon cancer. He was 40 years old. 

Soccer fans across the globe are mourning his death, as are Grove’s family, friends, and loved ones. For all who knew him, Daryl wasn’t just a podcasting pioneer, but the epitome of altruism and kindness. 

“[Daryl] was a man who woke up every day with… the absolute goal of making life better for those around him, and that level of effort isn’t easy,” says Taylor Rockwell, his co-host, business partner, and longtime friend. “It takes a belief in the goodness of the world and one’s ability to help out to believe that even the smallest gesture or kind word can make a difference.”

Originally from England, Daryl came to Richmond by way of Michigan, where his wife, Shannon O’Neill, grew up. They met at film school in Ireland and, after visiting a friend in Richmond, moved to RVA in 2004. 

Daryl joined the Central Virginia Soccer Association (CVSA) as a way to meet fellow soccer players and get involved with the community. It was here that he and Taylor became friends. On and off the field, their discussions revolved around all things soccer. When it came to the subject of podcasts, they realized that an American perspective was missing – an insight that became the inspiration behind their decision to create the Total Soccer Show.

Daryl Grove (left) and Taylor Rockwell recording the Total Soccer Show in studio (October 2017). Photo by Stephanie Dowda Demer.

In 2009, after pitching a demo to independent station WRIR, the Total Soccer Show made its humble debut as a local radio show, providing game insight, analysis, and commentary in an honest, entertaining way. Between the CVSA and Richmond Kickers, the show established a solid fan base among the city’s burgeoning soccer community. Slowly but surely, the podcast gained more attention, with thousands of listeners tuning in to each episode from all over the country. Since those early years, it’s grown and evolved into the #1 independent soccer podcast in the United States – one of the longest-running and most-listened-to shows of its kind in North American soccer.

While produced in Richmond, the Total Soccer Show has also garnered a huge international following, as evidenced by its loyal subscribers and 17K Twitter followers. Up until last year, it had no major network backing – a testament to the hard work and dedication that Daryl and Taylor put into the show, literally building it from the ground up. 

Much of the show’s success came from the natural rapport the two shared and their obvious passion for soccer. In the midst of thought-provoking dialogue, they exchanged jokes and clever banter, keeping listeners both informed and amused. Their knowledge of the sport impressed many, but it was their relatability that made the show so popular. For fans, who ranged from soccer novices to experts and even professionals, the show felt like an extension of their social life. Daryl and Taylor weren’t just voices on a podcast, they were like old friends.

As an expat with an unapologetic enthusiasm for US soccer, Daryl brought a unique point of view and personality to the Total Soccer Show. People were endeared by his charismatic British accent (Halesowen, to be exact), sharp wit and kind-hearted spirit. Daryl opened every episode with his signature greeting, a cheery “Hello and welcome,”  that immediately set a tone of familiarity and warmth to devout listeners. While the show must go on, the absence of Daryl and his contributions will surely be felt by all who tune in regularly.

Daryl and Taylor, in a typical banter, entertain crowds in their first performance at the Heineken Club at Audi Field (July 2019). Photo by Morgan Tencza.

Since his passing, an outpouring of fans have taken to social media to express their sentiments about Daryl, including some big names in the international soccer community and organizations like the U.S. Men’s National Team, Major League Soccer, and World Football Talk. 

American sports journalist Grant Wahl spoke of the Total Soccer Show’s indelible influence with US soccer fans, and described Daryl as “one of the kindest, most talented and hardest-working people I’ve ever met.” Sports columnist Tim Steller stated, “Those of us who love American soccer have lost one of our most enthusiastic friends, Daryl Grove of @TotalSoccerShow. An English immigrant who came to love the American game and players, he set a high standard for friendliness, humor, and enthusiasm and will be sorely missed.” 

In a tweet by U.S. Soccer, former pro and TV soccer analyst Jordan Angeli added, “This is a guy who’s going to live on forever in how many people he brought to the game here in the United States… what you hear and who he is on the podcast is exactly who he is in real life. He is a loving man. He loves the game and he loves people a lot.” 

Retired soccer legend and Fox Sports analyst Alexi Lalas offered some moving words as he contemplated the significant impact Daryl made on the soccer world:

“Daryl’s incredibly sweet and kind and curious mind was something to behold… and an incredible comfort, I know to myself, and to a lot of other people,” he said in a video on Twitter. “He is as important as anybody who ever kicked the ball and maybe even more so at times, because he furthered the conversation. He continually gave a platform. He continued to give us his opinion on things. He educated us. And in doing so, he made American soccer better.”

Daryl and Taylor meet up with retired soccer legend and Fox Sports analyst Alexi Lalas (January 2018). Photo courtesy of Alexi Lalas.

Last year, the Total Soccer Show began a partnership with the Richmond Kickers, producing a weekly review of their games. At last Saturday’s game, the team put out a signed, personalized jersey in Daryl’s honor and made this statement on the Richmond Kickers Facebook page: 

“Based here in Richmond, Daryl touched the lives of much of the United States soccer community both locally and throughout the country. Daryl passed away Thursday night [October 22, 2020] after a courageous and well-documented battle with cancer. A battle that has inspired millions and was further proof of the spirit and enthusiasm Daryl brought to every aspect of his life. We want to thank Daryl for always taking the time to talk with all of us. We love you, Daryl.” 

Meg Linehan, staff writer for sports journalism website The Athletic, expressed her appreciation for the Total Soccer Show’s thoughtful, meaningful coverage of women’s soccer. “As difficult as this moment is, I think it shows us the best of what this space can be… a community where we fight for each other and we appreciate each other and we support each other – with love.”

Yet another poignant tribute came from a young man who wrote an op-ed in The Post of Athens, Ohio. Will Cunningham, a sophomore at Ohio University and longtime fan of the Total Soccer Show, stated in his essay that Daryl was an inspiration to him and “one of the biggest reasons I got into sports journalism.” On a 2015 visit to Richmond, Will’s dad surprised him by organizing a lunch with Daryl and Taylor, who took the time to meet with the exuberant teenager. Will stated that Daryl “will be remembered by many as the perfect podcast host, who was able to combine thoughtful analysis, witty comments and more puns than you could count. He was the best of us, and he will be dearly missed.” 

Pondering the life of his good friend, Adam Whittaker Snavely wrote on his blog that he hoped Daryl would “excuse us, as we confront the impending reality of waking up in a world where he does not also wake up. We are sad because he made us all so happy, and interested, and intrigued with the universe around us and how it pertains to a little game we all like to talk about.”

The Richmond Kickers displayed a jersey in Daryl’s honor, at their game last weekend, signed by members of the team (October 2020). Photo courtesy of the Richmond Kickers.

Beyond the air waves of the Total Soccer Show, Daryl’s impact extended to hands-on work in the Richmond community. As founder and director of nonprofit Richmond Street Soccer, Daryl organized a soccer league for people in substance abuse recovery, many coming from The Healing Place, a local residential recovery program. In pre-pandemic times, the team typically practiced once a week and participated in the local CVSA league, as well as in regional and national Street Soccer USA tournaments. 

Having played with Daryl on the Richmond City Football Club, Thad Williamson attended that first kickoff meeting back in 2009. In a heartfelt Facebook post, he summed up his admiration for his cherished friend, stating: 

“As much as he loved the sport, for Daryl, soccer was the medium not the end. He mainly cared about people… he cared about the injustices of our society and wanted to do his part to address them. And he did – he used the game he loved to build community, and made a long-haul commitment, week after week, year after year. Daryl Grove was an amazing human being and one of the people who made Richmond worth living in. He was full of wit, intelligence, and humor. Daryl was always up for an on-point ironic observation – which is a major reason people loved hanging out with him. I feel privileged to have had so much time with him, and I am absolutely crushed that he has gone after a courageous fight, far too soon.”

Players from Richmond Street Soccer (May 2016), a nonprofit soccer league organized by Daryl (kneeling, second from left) to help people in substance abuse recovery. Photo courtesy of Richmond Street Soccer.

It’s no surprise that Daryl was admired by many in the soccer world, but he also had many adoring non-soccer fans – myself included. I came to know Daryl through his wife, my dear friend, Shannon. A few years ago, my husband and I were fortunate to be welcomed into their circle of friends. Over the course of various happy hours, porch gatherings, and dinner parties, I don’t think I fully grasped I was in the presence of a niche celebrity. But that’s Daryl for you – consistently humble, unassuming, and never seeking any fanfare. Often running late, Shannon would explain he was finishing up the podcast, and without fail, he showed up, fully present and by her side. As always, Daryl remained committed to the things – and people – that matter.

While Daryl and Taylor certainly had their own chemistry, it was nothing compared to the magic that he and Shannon shared. Their relationship was the ideal union of mutual love, care, and respect. They not only supported but championed each other’s independent interests and personal pursuits. Seeing the other thrive and in their element truly made them happy.

In a gripping, beautiful Facebook post, Shannon mentions that from the beginning of his diagnosis, Daryl made one thing clear: “he loved his life as it was and he would change nothing about it. He spent it loving and enjoying friends, daily FaceTime with his family back in England, traveling when he could, walking the dog, sitting on our porch, being my best friend and, of course, recording the Total Soccer Show.”

Daryl’s contentment to the everyday speaks volumes to his outlook on life. It wasn’t about grand celebrations (unless his favorite team, the Wolves, were winning, of course), it was about all the little moments that happen in between – over time, they added up to a glorious existence. 

Like analyzing soccer, Daryl focused on the details and nuances of life – things that many of us often overlook or take for granted. He wasn’t sentimental about material things (with maybe the exception of a few favorite tee shirts) but rather, provocative conversation, enthralling soccer, and good times with family and friends who felt like family. 

As American sportswriter Grantland Rice once said, “It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.” And Daryl played the game of life exceptionally well. It’s a reminder to all of us to pursue your passions, tell people you love them and in general, be kind.

Daryl with Shannon, his wife of nearly 15 years, enjoying life. Photo courtesy of Shannon O’Neill.

While Daryl’s legacy will live on in the Total Soccer Show and in all the different people whose lives he touched, Shannon wants more for him – namely, to increase awareness of colon cancer and the importance of early screenings to prevent others from the heartache they both experienced.

According to the American Cancer Society, “colorectal cancer is the third leading cause of cancer-related deaths in men and in women, and the second most common cause of cancer deaths when men and women are combined.” Earlier this year, RVA Mag ran a story on “Hitting Cancer Below The Belt,” about the silence that typically surrounds colorectal cancer. And just two months ago, the death of Hollywood celebrity Chadwick Boseman from colorectal cancer served as a wake-up call for young adults. The Black Panther star was 43 years old.

What’s particularly tragic is that colon cancer is treatable if detected early on – however, many who are diagnosed experience no signs or symptoms and the disease is often mistaken for less severe gastrointestinal disorders like irritable bowel syndrome. Additionally, most U.S. insurance plans only cover the costs for colorectal cancer screenings starting at age 50, despite the fact that colon cancer rates in younger adults are rising. 

For these reasons and more, it’s imperative to be proactive about medical checkups, because unfortunately, cancer can strike anyone – even the young, healthy, and active. 

Daryl being interviewed as “Richmond’s resident soccer-loving Brit” (June 2014). Photo courtesy of RVANews. 

In an interview with Protagonist Soccer last year, in the midst of intense chemotherapy, Daryl reflected on his situation with his trademark optimism: 

“Before the diagnosis, I was keenly aware that life was good. I love my wife, love my friends, love my family, love doing TSS. The diagnosis did make me take a brief pause to assess, like, am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life? And I found the answer was yes. So in a paradoxical way it’s been really life affirming because I know not everyone is fortunate enough to have that same answer, often for reasons beyond their control. So now I wake up every day knowing how lucky I am and it makes me determined to really enjoy all the things in life that I love so much.”

Whether you knew Daryl for two years or twenty, lived in Richmond or thousands of miles away, laughed with him in person or through the podcast, you were a friend. As many have pointed out, Daryl wouldn’t want us to linger in our sadness and grief. Instead, he’d want us to channel our love for him into action. 

So let’s honor our friend Daryl, not only by spreading the word on colon cancer, but by living life to the fullest and never taking a single day for granted. 

If you would like to pay tribute to Daryl Grove, please consider being a part of Team Daryl Grove by making a donation on his GoFundMe page, or to the Colorectal Cancer Alliance.

Top Photo: Mixed media concept inspired by Man On! @QueerSporting with main (center) photo by Jonathan Elderfield. Design/layout by Brian Gibson.

No Dead Air

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Local, independent radio stations are a unique piece of culture in their communities. We caught up with Richmond-area radio stations to see what it’s like to operate an independent station in the modern world of corporate-controlled playlists and syndicated DJs. 

In an industry that is experiencing financial stagnation and a steady increase in banal programming, local independent radio stations are challenging the notion that the medium of terrestrial radio will go anywhere anytime soon. 

For countless radio disc jockeys, on-air personalities, and station managers, the mission is to provide a voice and outlet for their community. The radio has been an illustrious and amplifying source for exactly that. 

However, over past decades, the industry has not been the same force to be reckoned with as it once was. In 2019, there were 510 broadcast announcers and radio disc jockeys in Virginia, according to data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Just ten years ago, there were 800 employed in that same field. 

Not all hope is lost, though. According to a 2019 Nielson study, terrestrial radio still reaches 92 percent of the population. The reach is higher than other platforms like television and mobile devices. Low-power FM stations are also on a rise: as of March 2020, there are 2,159 low-power FM stations in the U.S., nearly a 150 percent increase from 2010. 

Providing a platform for the unheard, Richmond’s all-volunteer independent radio station, WRIR 97.3 FM, stays at the forefront of all things local and culture. And while it certainly has the highest profile with RVA Mag’s readership, WRIR is far from the only independent radio outlet Richmonders have access to. Independent radio stations are adapting to the rapid evolution of media and technology, adjusting their formats and accessibility to cater to the needs and wants of the Richmond area. 

From music to talk shows, low-power FM stations have established a local foothold. Low-power stations like WRIR are required to be run by nonprofit organizations (schools, churches, Native American tribes, etc); their signals are allowed to cover about a four-mile radius. Like many low-power stations, Richmond’s 103.3 The Bridge is commercial-free and runs entirely by volunteers and donations. 

Listeners of The Bridge can end their Wednesday night jamming out to Richmond’s underground music scene, including tracks from artists who are often overlooked. 

“My goal as a DJ is to bring in new, emerging queer pop artists, with a focus on femme, trans, and non-binary people,” said Erin Gerety, Music Director of The Bridge.

That’s what Gerety hopes listeners will appreciate after tuning in to the station’s weekly “Little Rascal’s School Night Slumber Party” segment. 

PHOTO: 103.3 The Bridge

The Bridge’s mission is to highlight local artists, like Baby Grill, Gnawing, and Alfred. Gerety, who uses they/them pronouns, said they currently try to play two local songs an hour, and plan to increase the rotation to five. 

As the singer for local band BUTT, Gerety is involved with the local music scene in a variety of ways. Before coming to The Bridge, Gerety was a DJ, and briefly the hip-hop director, at WRIR. Based on their prior radio experiences at WRIR Gerety decided to take on the task as music director at The Bridge. 

The station has given them an opportunity to feature a diverse range of local artists, including “total weirdo music,” they said, “that wouldn’t be played elsewhere.” The Bridge allows Gerety to pre-record their programs, which allows them to record consistently regardless of their busy schedule and gives them full creative control over what is played. 

“Working with The Bridge, I have the opportunity to run a regular program that I can take a deep-dive in,” they said. “It’s an exciting and different way of working, [and it] has allowed me a lot more freedom.” 

PHOTO: WHAN, The Mater, 102.9 FM.

One of the ways WRIR has achieved its closeness with local culture is through its prominent location in downtown Richmond, within a mile of VCU’s campus. But rest assured, if you live a little farther away from the city center, there are local independent stations based in your area as well.

Since 1998, Hanover County’s source of old-school throwbacks and local news has been WHAN, The Mater, 102.9 FM. 

Before WHAN established itself as a strong Ashland-area source of music, it began as a talk radio station. For a short period of time, the station was leased to the University of Virginia, where music was weaved into the programming. When station owner Bill Roberts regained full control in 2017, the more music-oriented format was locked in. 

While WHAN is known to play oldies — such as The Beatles or Jefferson Starship — in recent years, it has expanded to play a variety of music across a plethora of genres and eras, from the Grateful Dead to the Panic! At The Disco. 

“We play some British artists. I played a German group today,” Roberts said. “We’ve got a pretty [diverse] mixture of artists.” 

In the Ashland area, WHAN is best known for its local sports coverage. From Randolph-Macon College football to Hanover County high school sports, WHAN has widely covered sports in the area since 2011. 

Rob Witham, operations manager of WHAN, came to the station as a sports announcer with previous experience in corporate radio. He said there is a disconnect nowadays between corporate stations and locals. 

“One of radio’s greatest gifts has always been its way to connect with the local community,” he said. “And stations who don’t do it, do it at their own peril.” 

Witham emphasized WHAN’s commitment to the Hanover community. The station broadcasts from local events like the Ashland Strawberry Faire and the Hanover Tomato Festival. 

“If there’s something happening in our community, we’re going to be broadcasting live,” Witham said. “So people see us, they know we’re there, and that we care about things they care about.” 

Over the years, WHAN has ventured into different types of talk shows and non-musical programming. They host a Sunday program targeted to the Richmond-area Hispanic population. 

“Because we’re small and have nothing to lose, we can try things,” Roberts said. “We can experiment and do things that, maybe, other stations would be reluctant to do.” 

PHOTO: WRWK, The Work, 93.9 FM.

The name Christopher Maxwell is a familiar one in some local radio circles. Having helped to start WRIR, Maxwell is also the founder of WRWK, The Work, 93.9. He created the community-based station because he wanted to provide an outlet for local voices to “push the needle” for progressive change. 

WRWK focuses on talk shows involving local voices. They have interviewed candidates for local office, including those whose voices aren’t often heard in local media. They’ve broadcasted from a variety of local political events over their years of operation, including the 2017 Women’s March and the Virginia 7th Congressional District Debate. 

“If we want to create a conversation across silos,” Maxwell said, “and one where humanity can become what’s [ultimately] possible, I need to go to that edge.” 

That edge was Chesterfield County. A few months after being on-air, Maxwell saw changes in the county that he believes WRWK was a catalyst for. He noted the unseating of Congressman David Brat, a Republican, by Rep. Abigail Spanberger, the first Democratic representative of the 7th District in Virginia since 1970. 

The Work’s operation depends on listeners’ contributions. One way the station receives donations is through fundraisers. Their next fundraiser is happening Saturday, September 26, at Rick’s Rock Cafe. They will, of course, be live-streaming from the venue.

Turn the dial to 92.9 FM, and you’ll find WBTL, the station known as Boomtown Richmond. Classics like The Beatles (who provide the station’s call letters) and beloved old-school local bands like Ron Moody And The Centaurs will be playing. Station owner Mike Mazursky started radio broadcasting in Richmond in 1996, and recently he noticed there was not a prominent station dedicated to oldies music from the 1950-1980s era. WBTL was born three years ago. 

“I knew it was a huge opportunity for me to be the exclusive radio station for classic hits and oldies,” Mazursky said. 

PHOTO: WBTL, Boomtown Richmond, 92.9 FM.

The coronavirus pandemic has created challenges for radio stations across the country and in Virginia, but it’s had a particularly tough effect for some independent stations. For WHAN, it wiped out months of planned programming.

“This is the first year since I’ve been [at WHAN] that we haven’t been able to do local sports because of the coronavirus,” Roberts said. 

Faced with these challenges, local stations have gotten creative. WHAN filled some gaps in programming by spending a week playing their entire main music library of 4,000 songs in alphabetical order, a move that garnered positive feedback from their audience. 

Pre-pandemic, Witham hosted a sports talk show that primarily focused on local high school and college sports. Since the pandemic, the show has shifted to sports news, concentrating on the ramifications of COVID-19 on the sports world. 

“We do a lot of discussion about mental health issues,” Witham said. “We have experts on the air talking about that; how the pandemic is affecting student athletes and coaches.” 

For Mazursky at Boomtown, it’s important to inform the station’s Baby Boomer demographic with coronavirus updates. Mazursky also owns WULT, Ultra Richmond, 94.1 FM, a Spanish-language radio station. WULT works with Sacred Heart Center and Capital Area Health Network to distribute masks and hand sanitizers at events. 

As the radio landscape continues to evolve, local independent radio stations constantly adapt. The public shift toward streaming services threatened the mere existence of radio, and local stations including Boomtown, The Bridge, and The Work all have live streaming on their websites to make themselves more accessible in the streaming era. 

At a time when the most powerful commercial stations beam in nationally syndicated DJs from far-flung locales, these independent radio stations are bringing a much-needed local touch that sets them apart. Whether spotlighting the local music scene or foregrounding social issues, their commitment to the local community shines through. It seems they won’t go radio silent anytime soon. 

Top Photo by Jonathan Velasquez on Unsplash

Curtain Call Podcast Checks In On Local Theatre During Coronavirus Pandemic

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Times are tough all around, but Central Virginia’s theatre world is facing a particularly tough time at the moment. This podcast takes a closer look at the situation.

Chances are if you know Jerry Williams, it’s from his recent documentary, Spider Mites Of Jesus, which focuses on the colorful life of Richmond legend Donnie Corker, aka Dirtwoman. But Williams has been a fixture on the local artistic scene for a long time now, and one of his other major endeavors is the Richmond Theatre Critics Circle‘s Curtain Call RVA podcast, a bi-weekly creation for Open Source RVA that Williams produces.

For the latest episode, which will premiere on WRIR at noon on Friday, April 17 and be available on the RTCC website afterward, Williams has put together an extensive look at the many ways the Richmond theatre world is working to survive during the COVID-19 pandemic. The upcoming episode of Curtain Call RVA, which is over 50 minutes in length, speaks to representatives from every local theatre to learn how productions were affected by the outbreak, how compensation of those involved in shows was handled, how theatre staff is being affected, and what theatres are doing to ensure their survival until their next season… whenever that may be.

In addition, the podcast will also feature an interview with CultureWorks’s Scott Garka about the COVID-19 Artists Relief Fund the organization has set up. Plus, Jacqueline O’Connor of Richmond Performing Arts Alliance will give details on their Legends At Home livestream series, and the quartet of housemates who created Richmond Quarantine Theatre will talk about their own efforts to continue creating art under these trying circumstances.

If you care at all about theatre and performing arts in the Richmond area, you’ll definitely want to catch this new episode of Curtain Call RVA and get the scoop on what theatre in Richmond will look like throughout this trying time, and beyond. Williams and the RTCC are offering a message of support and hope for the local theatre scene, and reminding us all that we’re in this together, and the show must go on.

Top Photo via Virginia Rep/Facebook

Inside The Studio with JR Da Rapper

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RVA #39 is on the streets now! Here’s another article from the issue, in which JR Da Rapper and Esco of The Poverty Crew in Richmond sit down with Hip Hop Henry to talk new mixtapes, telling stories through music, and future full-flow albums.

In the earlier days of RVA Rap Elite, when Strange Matter still hosted the RVA Lyricist Lounge, I remember being onstage during an open Cypher Session when someone struck my eye. 

He walked on stage in a plain white tee and jeans, and looked unassuming at first. He caught the entire room off guard, both everyone on stage and in the audience, with some of the best lines of the evening — and made it to the sudden death round of the Cypher Championship. His name was JR Da Rapper. When he left the stage for the second time, I remember shaking his hand and telling him, “You have to come back.” He never did.

Fast forward to the RVA Rap Elite show on September 25 at the Dark Room, and he’s back in the building. This time, he’s here as one of the headline performers, doing tracks from his mixtape 96 Degrees, and his name is on the flyer. I had the chance to talk with him about new music, what he’s been up to in the time between those two Rap Elite appearances, and how that first performance boosted his desire to make music with younger performers from the city’s Northside. The Poverty Crew consists of himself, Vonton Soup, and Esco, who works behind-the-scenes. I brought JR and Esco to the WRIR studio in Richmond, where we could sit down and have a quick rap overlooking Broad Street. 

Hip Hop Henry: So what exactly is The Poverty Crew? 

Esco: Poverty isn’t just a record label. It’s a movement that’s [using] music to bring something greater to the city. We’re tapped into local politics to know what’s going on, because at the end of the day, it’s our city. We’re fighting for a better city. It’s not a music group out here to make a bunch of money and flex on people. It’s more than that.

HHH: JR, how did you and Esco meet?

JR: Vonton and I are cousins, we grew up together. I was rapping in elementary school, but I was the only one rapping. I took a break when I got to high school and moved to a different school, I hadn’t seen him for a minute. Von ended up moving around my way, and we started linking back up. They had a studio at their crib, and they were rapping now — so I said, “Damn, niggas remember me as the rapper, and now y’all have a studio at the crib. Y’all are freestyling every day.” So I started going over there, getting situated again, and that’s where I met Esco.

Esco: Vonton was saying his cousin rapped. I blew him off, because everybody wanted to come in and rap — half of the hood would come. People would come from Fulton to Northside just to rap. I think I walked in one day, and JR was freestyling. I said, “Man he hard, that’s your cousin? Tell him to come back over.” He wasn’t really trying to come back, but I said “You need to get him back over here, he needs to keep coming.”

HHH: Not showing back up reminds me of his Strange Matter performance when I first saw him. How did that appearance in the Cypher happen to begin with?

JR: That was my first performance. That was the first time I really ever rapped in front of niggas I didn’t know. I was already thinking, “Eh, I wonder how motherfuckers that aren’t around me every day are going to feel.” That reaction was definitely what I needed to take it seriously. People really fucked with me, genuinely. I needed to start going to a studio — when I rapped at Rap Elite, I had still never been to a real studio. You know what I’m saying? We do our little shit at the crib. We might make a dub tape, throw some plugins here and there to make it listenable… but I had never been to a studio and published a record out.

HHH: What I notice in your music is that you have a street style, but you can do the lyrical music as well. Where did the balance in styles come from?

JR: I’ve thought about this a hundred times. I know I can rhyme… But at the end of the day, I rap for me. A lot of people will give you bullshit excuses that they rap for the fans, the money, all that. When I first started rapping, it was a way for me to vent; to talk about shit I can’t talk about — because like any nigga in the hood, you look weak when you start talking about certain things. The only way I could get certain things off my chest was to rap. [If] you fuck with my raps, you’re saying you fuck with me as a person. That’s how I take it. 

Esco: I think it was also a journey because at first, it wasn’t always like that. When he first came back to the studio, he was leaning more toward trap and street music, but you could always see the talent. It wasn’t basic ABC trap music. I think as he started to find this — his flow and sound — it all developed. We always have talks that we strive for greatness, right? You play the game like a pro. Somebody like Kendrick, he’s playing the game to be the best. Not everybody plays the game, and that’s cool. Some people rap like Dom Kennedy. He’s not really rapping to be the best, but he’s dope.

HHH: You have a buzzing video for “Real Niggas” right now. What’s in store for the new year? Or is that just a loose single?

JR: That’s just a loosie. On my next project, I’ll probably do some mixtapes. I won’t do an actual album until I get a little bit further toward where I want to be, with more listeners. When I do my first album, I want to tell a story.. something you’ll be listening to 20 years from now. I want it to be timeless, not hot right then and there. I want something that people can go back to 20 years later and say, “You remember when this came out? I used to listen to this every day.” We’re going to do skits, and I like that album flow, full songs. I’m not a stream seller. I want it to be quality music; it puts you in a space.

Esco: We’re here to play like the pros play it. We aim for longevity.

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Be on the lookout for more singles from JR in the coming months. 96 Degrees is streaming on all platforms.

Top Photo by Kathryn DeFrank