Peter Gabriel and his vast entourage of musicians and technicians touched down November 17 in East Rutherford as the “Growing Up” tour in support of his latest album, “Up”. Co-founder and former member of the 70s art-rock band, “Genesis,” Gabriel in the early 80s swung his attention and creative energy into what is now referred to as “world music,” a term which owes its popularity to him. In 1982 he founded the WOMAD (World of Music Arts and Dance) Festival and in 1989, Real World Records, single-mindedly pursuing the goal of exposing— and being exposed to— ethnic (mainly African) music, seeing this as among other things, a means of combating racism.

The much celebrated CD “Up” contains ten tracks of characteristic Gabriel songs: new, but in his familiar style of combining emotional vocals, warm melodies, indigenous instruments and Africanized rhythms. The set performed during the show was drawn mainly from the new album, but featured many of his older favorites including “Red Rain,” “Sledgehammer,” “In Your Eyes,” and “Snapshot.”

The visuals—the so-called “light show”—went beyond the merely spectacular into the realm of mind-boggling. Gabriel pranced, jogged, even bicycled on a circular, revolving stage along with his accompanists: guitarist, bassist, keyboardist, drummer and native-costumed dancers, vocalists and performers on ethnic instruments. Gospel singers, The Blind Boys of Alabama, opened with vocal virtuosity that seemed almost beyond the range of the human voice, and were called back to sing along with Gabriel during the main set.

A huge, saucer-like construction resembling a space station dangled over the stage, from time to time lowering itself or various bizarre props onto the performance platform below. Down came a monstrous, egg-like balloon, which was illuminated with patterns of clouds. The egg opened, hatching a huge ball that glowed now like a moon, now a flaming sun. Subsequently the ball was stripped of its casing to reveal a clear plastic, many-celled globe large enough for Gabriel to enter and once inside to march like a giant hamster in a crystalline exercise sphere, rolling around the stage while singing.

After two hours of energetic performance, Gabriel provided his adoring audience of 30 – 50 year-old fans two sets of mellowed-out encores that brought satisfied looks to their faces and, for some, tears to their eyes.

Exhibition of Paintings by Skot Olsen
FUSE GALLERY, 93 Second Avenue, NYC
September 7 through October 19, 2002

The Fuse Gallery in Manhattan’s East Village once again treats denizens of New York’s cutting-edge art scene to a stunning and highly thought-provoking exhibit through October 19, 2002. Opening reception for paintings by Skot Olsen was held at on Saturday September 7. Olsen graduated north Jersey’s Joe Kubert School. His bizarre acrylic paintings are busy, gaudy and cluttered, but still retain influence of the Kubert School, which is famous for cartooning and comic books.

Of the 20 or so paintings on display, the majority told grotesque stories with an irreverent flavor, satirizing low-down human foolishness, both institutional and individual. Thus, there were weirdly distorted caricatures of hideously ugly priests, an overtly demented insomniac, some warty-nosed religious fanatics, and a decaying, wrinkled belle of the Old South. These were in the form of highly elaborate, complex stories and were accompanied by explanatory notes adjacent to each painting. Many were informative, even educational, historical narratives.

Seven other works were surreal, bio-sexual inventions, vaguely reminiscent of genitals and internal organs: solitary fantasy figures, as intensely detailed as color illustrations of autopsy specimens.

The artwork is so subversive, so transgressive, that we were expecting to see maybe a shaven-headed, multiple-tattooed anarchist, but were surprised to find Skot a clean-cut, baby-faced and modest young man whose only outward manifestations of rebellion were a pair of earlobe studs. Having graduated in 1991 from art school, the 32 year-old Olsen was able to “quit the day job” in 1995 and is pursued by a growing number of collectors for his works which bring in from $3000 to $8000 a piece. Not too much, one might add, for these highly accomplished, expertly-executed paintings which combine complex and engaging scenarios with wit, wisdom, iconoclasm and spectacular visual interest.
Link yourself, if you’re interested, to Skot Olsen’s website

Untouched by Human Hands

New Montage Art By Winston Smith at Fuse Gallery 93 2nd Avenue, NYC October 26 – December 7, 2002

The Fuse Gallery in Manhattan’s East Village’s is fast distinguishing itself as the premier location for exhibiting the works of nationally-famous artists in the pop-punk, cutting-edge category, the stuff that appeals to the metropolitan rock-music crowd. The opening reception for renowned montage artist Winston Smith was held October 26 in the gallery which, like the Lit Lounge to which it is connected, is just a few steps below street level at 93 2nd Avenue. Both outfits—the lounge and the gallery—are run by gracious and friendly hosts, Michael McGrane and Max Brennan.

Winston Smith himself seemed to be hiding in a corner, both surrounded with and protected by admirers, while a mostly youthful crowd of metropolitan art-world “beautiful people” milled about studying the sometimes puzzling, sometimes easily comprehensible artworks.
Using a razor-point knife and glue, Smith cuts out and pastes together images from vintage magazines that he has pored over, sometimes for months, piecing together bitterly satirical narrative montages, which he terms “graphic wisecracks.”

Born and raised in a church-going, but politically- and artistically-aware Oklahoma family, Smith studied art in the 60s in Florence, Italy where he was temporarily taken by the lifestyle and where he continued to live until the mid-70s. Returning to the states he became associated with Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedys. His design for the cover of their album “In God We Trust”, a crucifix constructed of dollar bills, mounted with a golden Christ and topped with a bar-code price label, was on display along with other artworks.
Also seen were surrealistic, iconoclastic pieces including covers and feature article illustrations for Playboy, National Lampoon and New Yorker magazine, and many non-commercial, sarcastic satirical collages.

The use of predominantly vintage periodicals as sources for these cut-out figures creates a demented, cynical, bizarre version of Norman Rockwell’s world where jolly 1950’s housewives and father-knows-best-types freely associate with Satan, nude models, religious icons and weapons of war. A willowy Vargas model sensuously embraces a torpedo. The effect is not so much retro as it is to impart a feeling of iconic timelessness.

See greed, war and religion get skewered on the razor-knife of Winston Smith.

SENSATIONAL OVERLOAD

The fact that Tool’s performances at NYC’s Radio City and NJ’s Continental Arena sold out within minutes, and did not need to promise anything new in their repertoire, attests to the extreme popularity of their mesmerizing, multi-media, psychedelic shows—to their astounding originality—and to the virtuosity of these 4 musicians.

The show opened the same way as for the “Lateralus” tour with ultra-deep Tibetan monk vocals and undulating flutes while circles of flaming eyes were projected on the large off-stage screens.

Black-lights spotlighted the instrumentalists. By contrast, mad-genius vocalist Maynard James Keenan (MJK) blended in with the backdrop. His vocals are unmistakable, but he likes to keep his image almost secret. The opener was their first great hit, “Sober,” its rhythm reminiscent of Led Zep’s “Kashmir.” Next, a Ramones cover in an announced tribute to the two deceased punk-rockers.

Then, as “The Grudge” began, the curtain fell away behind them, revealing a beautifully creepy backdrop. Electric bolts shot lightening-like above the giant chandelier on the ceiling. “Stinkfist” came on with a modified version of its familiar video.

During “H” and “Schism” MJK, shaven-headed, wearing a dark bodysuit, remained almost hidden, standing on a video-projection screen highlighted only by his gyrations and his gripping vocals.

Skeletal animated figures convulsed on the screens like tortured souls and alternated with weird, unpleasant kaleidoscopic images.

“Parabola,” “Eon Blue Apocalypse,” “The Patient”—almost the entire last album, followed with cyclic rhythms, wailing guitars and bombastic vocals. Two large spheres resembling clusters of embryonic cells hovered over the performers and on the screens. Imaginary and metaphysical anatomy creations were displayed. Once, I think, a radial keratotomy (“R-K”) operation was flashed on the screens.

The apocalyptic “AEnema” was chillingly accompanied by visuals suggesting a catastrophic collision with an asteroid.

During intermission, the videos kept up for five minutes or so before Tool came back on with the languid opening and syncopated strains of “Dispositions.” More anatomical artwork, now in the form of oblong charts, descended into view behind the band. An enigmatic, seven-pointed star dangled center stage while a Middle-eastern melody transformed itself by crescendo into the more raucous “Reflections.”

During “Triad,” with its monumental drum solo, an additional percussionist and keyboardist joined the stage. MJK’s powerful, rich and widely ranging vocals topped off the grand finale, “Lateralis.” There were no encores.

Just back from a gig in Colorado, Voltaire’s gypsy violin-driven quartet took the stage at NYC’s Albion/Batcave on Saturday August 3, 2002. To merely acknowledge vocalist Voltaire as writer, composer and guitarist falls far short of characterizing this multi-talented performer who modestly describes himself on his own website as a “Renaissance man.”

And that he is! A noted animator, comic, raconteur, poet, cartoonist and author, Voltaire, who cultivates an eerie resemblance to Satan, is likely the most successful and widely recognized figure to come out of the NYC Goth scene in a generation. He and his band perform around the nation and around the world, and are sought after for every kind of Gothic and/or geek convention as guest stars.

Voltaire’s animations are featured on the Scifi channel and are currently accessible on www.scifi.com. He has a bunch of cute and creative graphic novels— forever sold out— goofing on Goth pretensions and loaded with references to specific people and places in the NYC scene. He has just released a fourth CD, an anti-folk masterwork titled “Boo Hoo.”

He opened with a parody of a Ramstein number. The rest of the set consisted of eight minor key songs—mainly folk-rock to which the violin added a hint of European flavor— plus some original verse and several entertainingly funny stories.

A one-man “roast” of religion as well as all things Goth, Voltaire’s jokes and poems mainly consisted of friendly put-downs. Not shy about revealing his own shortcomings, Voltaire kept the audience in stitches by laying verbal and musical abuse on both the famous and the lesser-known that have crossed his path.

The song “Future Ex-Girlfriend” granted him opportunity to recite about his one date with Bjork, mocking his own masturbatory fascination with —and ultimate disillusionment in—the Icelandic diva. Religion got the Voltaire treatment in “The Man Upstairs,” a complaint about apartment living that has undertones of blasphemy. “When You’re Evil,” set to a tango, is Voltaire’s ode to himself.

   Fortunate and talented enough to make his living as multi-media artist and full-time Goth, he mocked those poseurs who disguise the fact that they are forced to lead double lives, He lampooned “Vampire Club” and spoofed those who term themselves “corporate Goths.” He teased his audience of “goyim” before closing with the traditional Jewish folk-dance number “Shalom”. And they loved it!

This is a pencil drawing of my dad, John (Freddie) Ambrose, Sr. who was a paratrooper during World War II

Pencil on Paper 16″ X 18″

The original acrylic on canvas was completed in 1992 and was sold to the Ralph and Dorothy Venezia Family in 1997. A 16″ X 20″ C-print was photographed to make this image. The tattoo on his right arm is purely made-up. I placed it on his arm as a tribute to one of my favorite writers and art-critics, Professor Camille Paglia whose attitudes and writings swing between high-cultural and low-cultural extremes.

(Originally published in The Aquarian/East Coast Rocker)

The artistic and cultural phenomenon called “rock music” has ascended to a new and unprecedented level with the current tour of Tool, now performing around the country to promote their latest album, Lateralus. From their national debut on the “second stage” at Lollapalooza in the early 90’s to double sell-out of Madison Square Garden this year, Tool has emerged as not only the most successful, but also the longest surviving of the artistic super-heavy bands

As the lights went down at the beginning of Tool’s set, giant screens, four on stage, four more on the Spectra-Vision viewer hanging from the ceiling, lit up with the weirdly disturbing computer art now as closely identified with Tool as their music. One screen, a smaller version stood at stage-level and served as a backdrop to the silhouetted, crouching, spidery figure of mysterious lead vocalist, Maynard James Keenen. Pre-recorded ultra-deep, Tibetan monk throat-chant was heard prior to the first notes of opening number “The Grudge.” During the next two hours listeners were thrashed to “Stinkfist,” “Schism,” “Forty-six and 2,” “Pushit” and many more.

The screens displayed a vast fantasy kingdom of creepily humanoid and organic figures, many new creations but some from Tool’s groundbreaking videos. Now synchronized through the magic of computer animation, to Tool’s convulsive, cyclic music these offered glimpses into a nightmarish virtual reality—-a high-tech hellraising view of the creative mind of Tool.

Bass and drum rondos ominously built up a relentless, coordinated mantra upon which were imposed harsh, guitar and angry synthesizer melodies. Keenan’s’s beautifully controlled vocals preached an angry gospel of rebellion and independence, liberation and assertive self-expression. His tenor voice soared from soothing mellows to heights of rage. The music ranged from melodious, middle-eastern hooks to thumping industrial anthems. The crowd of young, fierce Tool devotees stood rather than sat, mesmerized by the rhythms, striving to sing along.

During a couple of brief interludes body-stocking-clad acrobats came on stage, then later dangled from the ceiling, echoing with their contortions the computer animated visuals of writhing, embryonic forms. Keenan played a little intellectual prank on his audience of would-be individualists by making them recite after him, then mocking them for it. The show ended with a resounding version of the title track, “Lateralus.” Then the mentally and emotionally spent crowd exited solemnly in a post-orgasmic state of enlightenment wrought by the mind of Tool.
Doktor John