"This is not a party," says Mr. Camponi, who was first brought to your attention in these pages back in January. "You have to put that in your article–this is a special performance of the Variety Show for the viewing public, from the screen to the stage."
The constraints of the Comedy Club prevent Brent from bringing some of his bigger draws. "I wanted to bring over my Russian acrobats and belly dancers and Nina Vig, the fire-spitter from Amsterdam, but they won’t fit."
Brent will, however, have some staple talent. "I have my jazz dancers, choreographed by Alexandra Sawyier, and my hiphop dancers, choreographed by Sherolyn Steele from Blade Entertainment. I got Wonder Woman in the show. I got the samba dancer. The casting-couch girl. And Mickey the Mook. And Mickey Spartan: instead of Ricky Martin, he’s Mickey Spartan, Austria’s number-one teen sensation."
If this sounds like something you could do, don’t hesitate to get in touch with Brent. "I’ve still got people checking out unique acts of talent," he says. "You know, I’m on that never-ending quest for the perfect cohost. The girl I have now, her name is Diedra Orhant, she plays Candi. Candi is the cohost. She’s from South America and she’s bringing in the Latino end of what I need to make this a total New York City Variety Show, you know, to go out and get the Hispanic audience."
Brent’s act is like cabaret, but funnier, and without the snotty, self-consciously retro vibe that you get elsewhere. His get-together starts at the Comedy Club on Thursday at 8 p.m.; admission is $5 with a two-drink minimum.
...Also on Thursday, a pounding and astounding band from Long Island called Vision of Disorder comes to Hammerstein Ballroom (311 W. 34th St., betw. 8th & 9th Aves., for tickets call 307-7171). Vision of Disorder grew up doing hardcore, and got plenty of notoriety for it–their sophomore release Imprint is a genre-defining classic. But they also smoked pot, listened to Kyuss and Soundgarden, and took three years off after a 1998 label dispute with Roadrunner to work day jobs and "clean out all the dirt that was holding us back," says lead singer Tim Williams. The result is From Bliss to Devastation, their June release that rocks so hard it’ll pop veins in sensitive places.
"Before we used to have to rush to bring the fuckin’ records out. We would finish one and then be like, ‘All right, let’s go on to the next one,’" says Tim–one of those guys whose casual use of the word "fuckin’" makes you want to rape and pillage. "But with this record, we weren’t signed. So we had time to get it perfect... Our influences pretty much stayed the same; we just got better as a band to the point where we could record this type of material."
"This type of material" means monster pentatonic grooves with shredded hardcore vocals. The first six songs on From Bliss to Devastation sound like Jonathan Davis learned how to sing again, but without all the gibberish, and got Soundgarden circa 1990 to back him. Only Soundgarden never had double bass.
"[Hammerstein Ballroom] will be the biggest fuckin’ show we’ve done in New York... We are getting good reactions even in the weird states. Well, I wouldn’t say ‘weird‚’ because I like the U.S., but I mean states other than New York, California. We almost sold out in Raleigh–I think we did sell it out, but I don’t know what happened to our bottle of vodka; we usually get a fuckin’ bottle of vodka for selling out, not that night. I don’t know what that was all about." Cradle of Filth headlines on Thursday; God Forbid and Nile are also playing. Doors open at 7:30 and the price check is $23.50.
...Ten plus years of legal battling and Karen Finley is still around–she’s at the Westbeth Theater (151 Bank St., betw. Washington St. & West Side Hwy., for tickets call 307-4100) starting next Tuesday with performances of her new show, "Shut Up and Love Me," at 8 p.m.
When you last heard of Karen, it was likely the early 90s and she was in trouble with (still not dead) Jesse Helms for smearing chocolate on herself with government dollars–she got her National Endowment for the Arts funding revoked in 1990 and fought with a triptych of other artists to get it back. Karen went so far as to challenge the constitutionality of requiring NEA-funded artists to adhere to "general standards of decency," but she lost that battle in the Supreme Court in 1998. Still, she’s got a steady gig on Politically Incorrect and her Playboy spread couldn’t have been a financial disaster. (Karen, Darva, Jerri...all the important girls know where to go.)
"Shut Up and Love Me" is more subdued than Karen’s earlier work. Although she starts with a clumsy striptease and ends with a honey-dipped frolic, her in-between material borders on Seinfeld with rants about JFK and Thanksgiving. What can you expect? This lady’s old–about 45, and smart enough to keep that information hidden from most interviews and profiles. She’s past the age where she might commit suicide flamboyantly, so we may as well support her into retirement and watch how she deals with menopause. Karen’s show runs until Aug. 25 and tickets are $20-$35.
...Marlene Dietrich, who I hear is a "gay icon," got famous in a little movie called The Blue Angel (1931) and it’s screening all week at Film Forum (209 W. Houston St., betw. 6th Ave. & Varick St., 727-8110). Now, this flick is the real deal–it has the cabaret scenes that inspired Cabaret and the recent fascinating failure Moulin Rouge; it has panty shots; it has fantastic mood lighting by director Josef Von Sternberg. And after 70 years, it still isn’t rated.
The Film Forum showings use a new 35 mm print that restores the movie’s texture and shading. Plus, at the start of every showing, you get to see Dietrich’s previously unavailable Blue Angel screen test. In it, Marlene comes out looking all cute and intentionally mangles "You’re the Cream in My Coffee," then gets the part anyway, based on her charisma and a one-line performance at a musical revue.
Oh, if only this chick were still alive! She could guest on Madonna’s Drowned World Tour, kick prices up another $1000 and wheel around in an electric old-person chair cackling "Vogue" while dancers bowed to her. While we’re on the subject, I’ve always wanted to see Karen Finley, with a mermaid tail, doing "Cherish."
