When the great builder Robert Moses imagined
an open-air amphitheater at Jones Beach, he must have envisioned it as a place
of cultural edification for Long Islanders, a picturesque venue for symphonies,
plays, and musical theater. Were he alive, he would no doubt be proud that
the arena has continued to grow and remain vibrant. That is, perhaps, until
June 16, when his theater in the bay was invaded by the depraved raunch-fest
that is Opie and Anthony’s Traveling Virus. There is little doubt that
today, though he is nearly 26 years gone, Robert Moses is likely trying to
cleanse himself of a dirty, dirty feeling.
The aptly named Traveling Virus is what an old time carnival would be if the
barkers had Tourette’s and all the acts were sex-obsessed mutants. It
is bawdy, lewd, and vulgar; it is utterly explicit from its descriptions of
sex acts that might not even have names yet to the charms of the lovely Gentleman’s
Quarter dancers who kept the crowd titillated throughout the evening. Billed
as “the comedy event of the year,” the show is a thank you to
the fans and performers who have supported Opie and Anthony through their
tribulations, as well as a stiff middle finger raised defiantly against the
wave of censorship and "PC" kowtowing that has washed over the entertainment
industry in recent months. And it is probably the only attraction you will
have a chance to see in the upcoming weeks that will keep you talking all
summer.
From the moment comedian and emcee Rich Vos pointed at the wheelchair section and quipped, “I saw you hooked to that tractor trailer last week,” it was clear to the audience that no race, ethnicity, religion, gender, orientation, or handicap would be spared. First up was Bob Kelly, who established an excellent pace and whose “fat guy” laments generated as many nods as laughs. Next was master impressionist Frank Caliendo, who experienced a bumpy night. Try though he might, his set was only moderately well received, and he was never able to quiet the chorus of boos coming from the upper deck. A completely unscientific, non-random poll (read: 15 guys questioned on the men’s room line) suggested that some felt his material was less than fresh. Or perhaps it was, as one respondent noted, “He doesn’t say c*%$ enough.”
Patrice O’Neal quickly got the show back on track; his devilish repartee with the audience culminated in an act of supreme confidence for a man of his girth — the lifting up of his shirt. It earned him the first standing ovation of the evening. Not to be outdone, the notorious ventriloquist team of Otto and George followed with a wicked, rapid fire set tailored just for Jones Beach that had the crowd alternately agape and gasping for air. Closing out the first half was a riotous Bob Saget, who proved beyond a doubt that his “family friendly” image is nothing more than a cover for a truly disturbed mind.
The second half of the show began with the emergence of the hometown heroes Opie and Anthony themselves. After thanking “the pests,” as their fans are lovingly called, they quickly moved the show into the featured portion of the evening. A disturbingly unhealthy looking Louis C.K. (he claimed to have a cold) led off; neither a small technical glitch nor an unexplained tumult from the upper tier could diminish the humor of his cockeyed take on his own life. Jim Norton, the foul-mouthed manic gnome who shares much airtime with Opie and Anthony, was greeted with rock star enthusiasm. He delivered such a high energy, over the top set that the tour’s producers might want to consider allowing him to close future shows. Finally, twisted tunesmith Stephen Lynch, whose sweet voice and pleasant appearance belie his subversive lyrics, put a warped exclamation point on a breathless, three plus hour evening.
For a group of fans that like their red meat comedy this bloody and raw, the Traveling Virus audience was surprisingly hospitable. Lacking almost all the arrogance of the hardcore supporters of many other entertainers, they understand that it’s their party, but they’re happy to have you — they get all the in jokes, and they’ll happily explain them to you. It promotes a camaraderie that makes the show that much more enjoyable. So if you are strong of stomach, open of mind, and have not one sensibility left to offend, make time to catch Opie & Anthony’s Traveling Virus. Who knows — it might be the last thing they do for you before they get fired again.
For more information on how to catch The Virus later in the summer, go to
opieandtanhony.com.
– Michael Lee
"Well, you can never get too fancy," proclaimed Les Claypool behind
his trademark pig mask from the stage of Nokia Theater. Perhaps fancy is not
the best adjective to describe Claypool and the group of peculiar musicians
that accompany him — eccentric may be a better word. Nevertheless, they
are an act like no other and quite talented at their respective crafts.
Claypool's show is almost better described as a musical rather than a concert. He's famous for his work with Primus, his many solo projects including Les Claypool's Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, and the more recent Fancy Band. All of these acts are quirky, but it's his skill as a bassist that has made Claypool well known.
He certainly didn't disappoint his loyal following during this performance. Top hats, wigs, and other wardrobe anomalies were abound as Claypool and his Fancy Band played some amazing tunes with bass lines and extended solos that would make Flea tremble. It is simply amazing how Claypool can use the bass as the lead instrument and pilot the entire band upon its notes. Amidst an extravagant light show, Claypool became one with the bass and had his audience jumping around and dancing like mental patients. The support from his Fancy Band was stellar; Jay Lane and Mike Dillon were wailing away on the drums and assorted percussion instruments like madmen. Eric "Skerik" Walton blared on saxophone, while Gabby "La La" Lang sported her blue wig and plucked a series of various exotic instruments from a ukulele to a sitar.
Once the show got rolling, the music never stopped, even as Claypool and
Lang changed outfits and instruments. Lane and Dillon kept the percussion
going with solos, which made the changes almost seamless. One highlight was
a "drum-off" between the two — a virtual percussion war that
went back and forth and ramped up to Claypool jumping back on stage donning
his pig mask and using a stand-up bass to begin one of his more popular songs,
"Long In The Tooth." His following went crazy. Even an accidental
lyrical blunder by Claypool during the song was celebrated by his fans.
– Eric Badia
"Some say it's ending, I say it's just beginning," Perry Farrell declared to a sold-out crowd at this hot new Manhattanvenue. With that said, Farrell took a sip out of a plastic cup and announced, "I have like 12 more drinks."
The band then launched into "Wish Upon a Dog Star" from their recently released debut Ultra Payloded. Seeing Satellite Party perform live is much like listening to that album, an experience unlike any other. Passionately dancing around the stage, Farrell was otherwise mum with the exception of introducing "Mister Sun." Before leading the band into that song, he told the crowd, "They tell me that there's no curfew here. Well, maybe if things go our way we can greet the dawn with mister sun." After a spirited rendition, the band tipped their hat to Farrell's original act, Jane's Addiction, with a bombastic performance of "Stop."
At the end of the night, Farrell and crew stood at the edge of the stage
with arms around each other and graciously bowed before exiting, leaving the
adoring crowd wanting more.
– Text and photo by Christine DiPaolo
The Jazz Attack created an ambiance of smooth jazz with some funk and R&B
coloring during this performance at Nassau's theater in the round. The Attack
features Peter White on lead guitar and vocals, Jonathan Butler on lead guitar
and vocals, Richard Elliot on saxophone, and Rick Braun on trumpet. They accompanied
by a four-piece band consisting of drums, keys, bass, and rhythm guitar. There
were instances of showmanship, gimmicks, onstage antics, and a romantic proposal,
all of which seemed to bring the audience together in a joyful way.
The first song started out with saxophone and trumpet, where Elliot and Braun jammed, playing off two chords. Elliot, sporting his zebra-striped saxophone, was hitting high and low registers during his solo and displaying some multi-phoenix. The trumpet then pierced through the last few bars of Elliot’s solo. "Use Me Up” and “Brand New Days,” both original tunes by Butler, led into a medley of covers. The first was the group’s sultry rendition of The Isley Brothers' “Who’s That Lady,” with White on lead guitar, which merged into “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” by TDhe Temptations. The audience went wild as soon as the band played the first few bars of the song's intense buildup and famous backbeat.
“No Woman No Cry,” by Bob Marley, was the next cover in the set, molded by Butler who added an intro vamp of guitar playing and African lyrics. When the song ended, White emerged from the back of the stage playing his rendition of the James Bond theme song, where White threw on some shades for effect – leading into “Get Up, Stand Up,” another tune by Marley.
Elliot stopped the show briefly to thank the musicians, and announced a raffle
winner. The winner took the stage with confidence and interacted with the
crowd openly. Elliot jokingly asked the "raffle winner" if he had
anything else to say – and to everyone’s surprise, he proposed
marriage to his girlfriend while onstage. When the stunned young woman searched
her feelings and said she would marry the man, the crowd went wild and rejoiced
with “When A Man Loves A Woman,” led by Butler.
– Chris Davidson
“If you believe in angels like Lynyrd Skynyrd does,” bellowed Johnny Van Zant, the band's irrepressible lead singer and younger brother of the legendary Ronnie Van Zant, “you gotta sing this song.” The opening organ notes of “Tuesday's Gone” wafted into the theater to a loud and raucous standing-room only crowd of young, old, and middle-aged southern rock lovers.
The refrain s, “God up above” and “Ronnie looking down on us” set a mood familiar to most Skynyrd fans. Any follower of the band knows about the tragic 1977 plane crash killing lead singer and rowdy frontman Ronnie Van Zant, lead guitarist Steve Gaines and his sister, back-up singer Cassie Gaines, but many at Westbury did not know from the poignant questions and whispered responses from parents and grandparents.
As the band took the stage, it was filled completely; moving from stage right to left, there was Billy Powell surrounded by a white Hammond B-3 organ with matching white Fender Rhodes piano and Korg synthesizer; new guitarist Bob Jones, who replaced The Outlaws' Hughie Thomasson after his stint with Skynyrd; Ricky Medlocke, former Blackfoot guitar-burner; Johnnie Van Zant, singing lead vocals; Gary Rossington, the only original member remaining, on howling guitar; bass player Ean Evans; back-up singers Dale Krantz Rossington and Carol Chase; and backing up the band on drums with a strong back-beat was Michael Cartellone. It was stunning how compact the band was with all its assorted gear, instruments, and amplifiers.
When Skynyrd tore into their first song, they were all arms, legs, and hair in motion. The girls were twisting and had a tambourine shaking like a leaf on a tree. Medlocke was playing his trademark Gibson Explorer — a nasty-looking guitar if there ever was one, while Gary Rossington seemed to be trying to shred his usual axe, a sunburst Gibson Les Paul looking resplendent in a white shirt untucked and a black fedora hat pulled low over his eyes. Billy Powell was looking suspicious, wearing wrap-around sunglasses at his wrap-around keyboards covered with a Rebel flag.
From the opening song, the band then kicked into an amazing set beginning with a very perky “What's Your Name” followed by perhaps the best one-two punch songs of the night, a fast and hot “That Smell” and the emotion-filled, slow and heavy “Simple Man.” No time for the crowd to catch its breath; a medley ensued those sweat-drenched numbers; a great medley which included “Down South Jukin',” “The Needle & the Spoon,"Ballad Of Curtis Loew,” an incendiary “Gimme Back My Bullets,” and closed with the aforementioned “Tuesday's Gone.”
“Freebird” closed the show ... of course. And it was the quintessential
evening-capper. There was nothing left to be said or sung.
– Bill Robinson
