Tim Burton at the Museum of Modern Art
Nov 2009 – April 2010
New York
By Doktor John

Surrealist and multi-media artist Tim Burton is the subject of a major exhibition at New York City’s MoMA that must be seen by everyone interested in pop culture. Attendance is overwhelming and it requires reservations well in advance. One of the first things one notices is the enormous body of work that he has churned out over the years. Known mainly for motion pictures like “Mars Attacks” and “Batman” which feature his eccentric design style, Burton is revealed to be an amazingly prolific and gifted in ink and in paint, on paper and on canvas, since very early in his life. Just as his movies seem to want to bridge the gap between child-like innocence and true horror, so too his witty and light-hearted drawings are filled with fantasy creatures that have dislocated eyeballs and with predatory clowns menacing with pointy teeth. Some of these have been translated by sculptors into jaw-dropping constructions and assemblages.

The lightly-colored pen-and-ink drawings include recognizable personalities such as Joey Ramone, Vincent Price and Alice Cooper. Others are anonymous humans with distorted body parts, aggressive toys or nightmarish yet comical fantasy-creatures. They are typically composed of weirdly proportioned, wiggly shapes that might have been drawn by Aubrey Beardsley intoxicated with absinthe, or by Edward Gorey if he executed them with his left hand. Many are hilarious visual puns. One entitled “Tongue-twister” displays a creature maliciously twisting a man’s tongue as if wringing out a wash rag.

More than 700 pieces are on exhibit and include concept drawings for the characters in his movies, recognizable iconic mannequins, costumes and statuettes from both his animated and his live-action films. Among them are Catwoman’s costume, a life-sized effigy of Edward Scissorhands, and numerous statuettes representing the various creatures in the stop-action movie, “The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The monstrous, threatening Jack O’Lantern from “Nightmare” hovers ten feet above the milling crowd of spectators and a crude ape-head with wooden-branch antlers from “Planet of the Apes” is mounted high on a wall evoking the feeling of strange otherworldliness.

This exhibition tells us much about post-modern culture, about ourselves and about the creative process. Tim Burton has spent a lifetime arduously and playfully exploring the borderland between the naive fun and the malignant fears of childhood which continue to haunt us well into adulthood.

Douglas McCarthy of Nitzer Ebb

A brisk and damp Friday night on Manhattan’s East 23rd Street saw a collection of die-hard industrial music fans gather outside the Blender Theater to worship one of the earliest and most eccentric pioneers in the style, the English band, Nitzer Ebb on tour to promote their new album named—what else?— “Industrial Complex.”

Dating back to the genesis of the industrial scene around 1983, these boys present a theatrical image in keeping with their weirdly unique brand of music, complete with pseudo-Germanic and pseudo-militaristic affectations. In that sense they resemble another band from that era, Laibach, known also for counterfeit German and military affectations. One major difference is that while Laibach worked from revisionist versions of cover songs, Nitzer Ebb does mainly original material consisting of harsh, repetitive, mantra-like lyrics shouted over pitiless electronic percussion and the absence of melody. The very name, Nitzer Ebb is an enigma, evoking a kind of dismal, hard feeling, but with no particular meaning, and in fact, no consistent pronunciation.

They have managed to maintain a surprisingly high profile, touring with such big names as Depeche Mode and contributing to the soundtrack of a recent horror flick, “Saw VI.”

In Nitzer Ebb’s heyday, frontman Douglas McCarthy used to appear in military jodhpur pants and knee-high jackboots, but this night he greeted the New York crowd warmly in shades, a suit, white shirt and tie, and in stark contrast with the punkish bandanas, mohawks and construction-booted attire of the audience.

The show opened with the rapidly paced, “Promises” from the 1989 album “Belief.” Next, “Let Your Body Learn” from 1987’s “That Total Age,” similar in style, followed. Dancing, gyrating and strutting around frenetically on stage seems to have kept McCarthy in superb shape.
“Shame” from the 2006 compilation “Body of Work” had a funkier rhythm but increased the brutality index. “Lightning Man,” too, had a sinister sound, emphasized by the hollow, deep, clangy bass-line heard on much of their music, and was livened up with a repeated jazz riff that sounded like it came from a robotic clarinet.

McCarthy’s jacket came off as the performance intensified with song after song featuring their ruthlessly repetitious signature sound. The crowd seemed intoxicated with McCarthy’s angry, barking lyrics and the mesmerizing, motorized cadences. “Godhead” had McCarthy growling to a rapid-fire swing beat.

Gramercy Theater provided a spectacular light show throughout the hour-long concert of around 15 songs, through “Murderous” and “Control I’m Here,” to the climactic closing piece, for which this band is best known, “Join In the Chant.” After a brief intermission, they returned for two more songs climaxing with the finale, “I Give to You.”

Nitzer Ebb certainly pleased the audience with their unique formula of maniacally repeating brutal lyrics (“Lies, lies, lies, lies…Guns, guns, guns, guns!”) over monotonous, thumping mechanical rhythms.

And below is the same article as it appears in the 12-30-09 issue of The Aquarian

Skinny Puppy/ Nokia Theater Times Square
November 17, 2009
New York, NY
By Doktor John

Nivek Ogre of Skinny Puppy

The bizarre performance-art/industrial music project called Skinny Puppy, now in its third decade, continues to outdo itself in every measure from musical creativity to mind-boggling staging to ghastly offensiveness. The current tour, dubbed “In Solvent See” in honor of the economic crisis, touched down in the City at the Nokia, drawing crowds of the region’s most avid industrial culture freaks young and old, many in full cyber-punk regalia.

The opening act was a heavy-metal soloist backed by a digital audio track going under the name Werewolf Grehv. While he proved his abundant dexterity on the electric guitar, what he mostly produced were cadenzas of structure-less noise with no discernible rhythm.

Skinny Puppy came on a little after 9:30 PM, front man Nivek Ogre horrifyingly stooped over an invalid walker, masked and in a huge dunce-cap or Ku Klux Klan hood, depending on how you saw it. If that wasn’t disorienting enough, the lighting consisted mostly of rapid-sequence motion-picture projection that flooded the stage and flickered blindingly, fragmenting the image of the stage set, the musicians and the props constantly.

Musically, they were at their very best, performing many of their early masterpieces like “Addiction” and “Rodent,” but with rich electronic layers added and exceptionally clear vocals. Ogre’s costume came off in a series of unveilings, each time revealing yet another creepy mask or garment underneath. Less common classics were represented such as “Morpheus Laughing” and “Antagonism,” rather than the expected “Testure” and “Killing Game,” which were conspicuously absent.

Newer material from the latter two albums included the bombastic “Pedafly” and the shocking “Politikill.” “Ugli,” off the 2007 “Mythmaker” disc, proved offensive to a handful of the audience who quietly arose from their seats and exited the auditorium when religious imagery was projected on to the background screen. “Assimilate” had political overtones, highlighted by images of the stars and stripes on screen, suggesting a critique of attitudes surrounding immigration.

They took a short break around an hour into their show, returning with their greatest anthem, “Worlock” done in extended version, followed by an unfamiliar piece that featured the monotonous mantra of the word “crazy” repeated again and again. A surprising and satisfying climax was reached with the archetypal “Far Too Frail,” following which Ogre shouted the group’s appreciation to the New York crowd.

Skinny Puppy has gone through break-ups, betrayals, collaborations with other musicians and the destructive withdrawal of key members, even by death. With this, their zillionth live performance in 27 years, Skinny Puppy’s Ogre and cEvin Key have distinguished themselves as the most bold, inventive masters of the industrial style and creators of a unique brand of music that creates beautiful music out of ugly noise.

Note: I have no idea how I got this excellent photo. If you read the third paragraph (above) you get an idea of how distorted and discombobulated the visual effects were. I took dozens of useless mishmosh photos of unrecognizable light and color patterns that prevailed throughout the show. Yet in one precious instant, everything was clear (see picture) and the photo at the top of this entry is the result!

As many of you know, I have become a fan of roller derby.
Man, there is nothing like a female athlete!
And you know, while these grrls are rough and tough, they’re very sportsmanlike. No vicious attacks, no flouting the rules, no venomous spewing, fighting, cussing. Just rough and tumble skating hard, blocking hard and playing to win!

The Pack

Athletic physique!

Blocking

Skating hard!

Crash!

Wounded!

Big Red

Big Green

Note Celtic cross

Relaxing at McGovern’s after the match

Myke Hideous was among several artists exhibiting at an art oprening held Halloween Night at Paul Vincent Studio, 49 Harrison Street, Hoboken, N.J.

Greeting us at the door

were two of the finest witches to be seen in all of Hudson County that night!

Here’s Myke himself

taking photos of his guests

Marzena was in attendance, but uncharacteristically silent owing to the after-effects of laryngitis!

This is one of Myke complex collage-constructions

which he categorizes as “apocalyptic.” It features a variety of animal skulls, dried flowers and plants, a doll’s head and much more. It has to be seen to be believed, and was priced at a modest $500.

One very impressive painting on wood was this creepy number shown below, called “Escapism.”

Present, beautiful but speechless

(due to laryngitis) was Marzena, shown below.

Franco Battiato/ Le Poisson Rouge/ Oct. 19, 2009

New York
By Doktor John

Franco Battiato, one of the greatest figures in modern music, is little known in the U.S, which is nothing short of an outrage. Perhaps it is partly his own fault because Battiato, —who is in many ways the Italian equivalent to Peter Gabriel—rarely spends time touring. This performance in New York was one of only two stops in the U.S., the other a performance in L.A. the preceding night, and this visit was only his second to this country.

Entering the scene initially as a synth-pop genius of innovative prog-rock in the early 80s, he has since delved deeply into experimental and world music, integrating rock with Turkish, French, Persian, German and Brit-pop styles. Fiercely original, yet fearlessly quoting Hendrix, the Beatles and Mozart into his melodies and complex rhythms, Battiato directly addresses the most profound issues of existentialism, modern physics, oriental philosophy, cosmology and sex. His take on politics is serious without being radical, insightful and humane rather than revolutionary.

This night he performed backed by a string quartet, guitarist, pianoforte and synthesizer for a small crowd of fervent, mainly Italian, mainly middle-aged fans whose emotional response was so intense that it threatened to overpower the show.

Drawing from his vast repertoire (I own more than twenty of his albums) he supercharged the audience into a frenzy of cheering, weeping, and singing along with a combination of his new songs and a generous serving of his beloved favorites. Styles spanned the gamut from delicate, meditative pieces like “Oceano di Silenzio” (Ocean of Silence) and “Gli Uccelli” (The Birds) to melancholy songs of love such as “La Stagione Del’Amore” (The Season of Love) to spirited, Near-East-flavored rockers like “Voglio Vederti Danzare” (I Want To See You Dance) and “Centro Di Gravita” (Center of Gravity).

Halfway through the set he got to the much-adored favorite, “No Time, No Space,” which is half in English. The audience began singing along and they continued to do so for the rest of the concert. It was interesting to note that the crowd, even those who appeared to be anything but Italian, knew the words and timing perfectly. His one explicitly political entry was a relatively new song in English, “Keep Your Hands Off Tibet.”

He and the band returned for two sets of encores, which built a crescendo from mild, meditative “Prospettiva Nevski” to conclude on the frenetic sing-along, “Cuccurucuru,” a crazed take-off on the classical “La Paloma.” To have kept a crowd of several hundred middle-aged, middle-class standing and singing until 11:30 p.m. on a weekday night attests to the devotion of this unique artist’s following.

Social Distortion/ Starland Ballroom/ Oct. 7, 2009
By Doktor John
Sayreville, NJ

Wheelchair Crowd-surfer

LA punk rockers, Social Distortion, now entering their fourth decade, put on a magnificent performance in two sets at the Starland Ballroom— the New Jersey stop on a thus-far, month-long tour. When I had spoken to their frontman, Mike Ness a few months ago, he had promised that Social D was intent upon putting out a new full-length disc— by my count it will be number seven or eight—not counting EPs, compilations and live albums. This tour seems to be preparation for exactly that purpose.

Never a band to neglect their enthusiastic fans’ desire for a heavy dose of their classic hits, they started off with perhaps an hour of their best loved songs and did not get into the new material until later in the show. Early works like the title track from their 1983 debut, “Mommy’s Little Monster” were heavily featured in the first set.

The crowd had stood respectfully and appreciatively during the two kick-ass opening bands, but were apparently saving their mosh-pit energies for the headliners, because mayhem broke out soon after they came on stage and only grew more passionate during “Ring of Fire,” “Ball and Chain” and “Sick Boys.”
The honky-tonk piano added a nuanced effect to new entries “You Can’t Take It With You,” and “Still Alive,” both of which fall into the philosophy that Social D’s “punktry-and-western” style seems to express so well. Mike Ness provided plenty of verbal introduction to the songs, and made commentary on everything from his love of New Jersey to his views on the transience of life.

He also did some spoken word narrative during the music, an artistic device that has a powerful effect when it comes to connecting with an audience of loving fans, as did the most endearing number, “Story of My Life.” A little 8-year-old kid was invited onstage for some warm-hearted Mike Ness banter, but when the music started up again, the pit boiled over into a steady stream of male and female crowd surfers, including more than wheel-chair-bound fan, passed overhead to the delight of onlookers.

At times the crowd parted for a hectic circle of old-school, violent but friendly moshing. The security staff was exceptionally cooperative and understanding as they caught falling crowd surfers and returned them gently to their feet. The passion that this band evokes didn’t die down during either set and foretells an enormous success for their future album, whenever that promise is fulfilled, presumably in 2010.

This is how The Aquarian Live Review shows up in the July 8, 2009 issue. The HTML version appears several entries below this. Either one is readable, but I like the white-on-black look The Aquarian published. Only they subdivided the photo (that’s ok) and printed it in black-&-white, whereas the version I posted below is in color

May 9, 2009
by Doktor John
New York

Californian musical prodigy Jon Crosby a.k.a. VAST (or “Visual Auditory Sensory Theater”), accompanied by some really fine musicians appeared in New York in the Meat-packing District’s relatively new venue, the Highline Ballroom. This is a very comfortable venue, small enough to let all spectators feel like they are up-close-and-personal with the band. Unfortunately, this also attests to VAST’s declining popularity.

Once a big draw but dropped by Elektra Records in 2002, Crosby has had to resort to supporting VAST on his own independent label, 2blossoms. Crosby is a gifted but underappreciated composer and performer of great music. Creator of a bombastic style somewhere in between Nine Inch Nails and U2, his compositions are more coherent than the former and vocals more exhilarating than the latter. Crosby brings industrial music to a level that is genuinely symphonic.

The opening band, Into The Present was a real gem to come upon. And, man, do I regret not having bought their CD or having found a way to trace their link on the Internet. Fronted by a very intense, blues-tinted male tenor (a handsome, skinny youth with long, black hair), driven by a fanatical drummer and accompanied by two dark-haired beauties on bass guitar and cello, Into The Present’s looks, their style, their musical talents were excellent, reminiscent of Mars Volta, if only the latter practiced more or gave a shit about the audience.

Into The Present was a hard act to follow, but nothing could match the welcome Jon Crosby received from the ardent fans, many but not all of whom sported heavy-duty punk outfits and Goth attire. VAST opened with a wall of sound, guitar-driven, with all the auditory spaces filled in by loud-and-clear vocals, electronic effects and exotic samples over irresistible, mechanical rhythms. The effect was a true tsunami of sound— luscious sensory overload— but magnificent to experience

Crosby’s physical appearance has changed. Although he’s still only in his twenties, he is now sporting a double chin and stocky build, causing audible groans of disappointment from some female fans that remembered him as a slender, California pretty-boy. But so, too, has his musical style grown. He sang the hard-edged “You Should Have Known I’d Leave” from his most recent work “Generica” —a down-loadable collection that’s not on CD— and from all his prior albums, including “Music for People,” “V.A.S.T.” and “Nude.” A few slower ballads and one song with saxophone accompaniment added variety to the event. The best-received songs were those from the early albums, featuring eerie samples of chant, such as “Here” and “Free.” The beauty of Vast is that you don’t have to have any prior knowledge of the material to be totally caught up in their mesmerizing, saturated blizzard of sound.

May 17, 2009
Montclair, NJ
By Doktor John

These Portland-based indie rockers packed Montclair’s refurbished former movie palace, The Wellmont practically up to the last rows of the nose-bleed section during this metro-area stop on their current tour. The Wellmont has been resurrected as a classic venue for this kind of second-tier musical performance group in the past year, having lay in a dormant state of disuse for some time following its closure as a movie theater years ago. It’s nice and all that, but I can’t say that it really works.

When in the past there were motion pictures projected on an elevated screen, they were perhaps visible to the mezzanine and balcony patrons, but the slant of the stadium-style seating is such that the performers on stage are just below the horizon of bobbing heads seated in front of the viewer. If one of these buffoons in front decides to stand and gyrate or even to sit leaning forward for the duration, the entire section behind the inconsiderate boor is blocked from seeing the show.

Opening was a sincere but generic Southern rock band with a kind of Louisiana/Celtic flavor named Delta Spirit. They were well received, perhaps in part because of the unexpected appeal of the garbage can lid-banging and mega-decibel bass drum pounding.
The Shins put on 2 full hours of their music unique for its strange, eccentric melodies, syncopated rhythms and above all for frontman James Russell Mercer’s piercing tenor. Reminiscent of the plaintive, happy-yet-sad vocal style of Robert Smith of the Cure, Mercer has the ability to make every lyric tug at the emotions of the listener, and to imbue each song with a level of profundity unmatched in the alternative music scene. Popular pieces from the second album predominated along with such favorites off “Wincing the Night Away” as “Sea Legs,” “Phantom Limb” and “Australia.”

A cover of The Beach Boys was okay, but a melody-less number by The Mumps clashed with the Shins’ style, and it was a major miscalculation include it in the encore set where it produced an anti-climactic let-down.

Their performance style is far heavier and harder rock than ever is heard on their recordings, and it’s not all that pleasing for Mercer to strain and waste his exquisite voice with yelling or for the accompanists to grunge it up like Smashing Pumpkins. The mellow, folksy sound of the Shins was disappointingly tossed aside during overly enthusiastic, noisy, speeded-up versions of their favorites. The material itself is unquestionably great, original and among the best alternative rock around, but it didn’t always get the reverential treatment it deserved.