Friday 5.9




Lloyd Kaufman’s fast-food Armageddon

Early word has it that Lloyd Kaufman has outdone himself this time with Troma’s latest contribution to ending civilization as we know it: Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead. We hear that not only does Kaufman himself make several appearances, but so do his . . . uh . . . McNuggets. But if you can stomach that, surely you’ll love the half-fried tale about poor, rejected Arbie, who takes revenge on his “lefty lipstick-lesbo liberal” girlfriend, Wendy, by getting a job at a haunted chicken shack. And when the fryers rise up to take their revenge, the chicken-zombie apocalypse may just leave you hungry for a mess of wings. Screenings begin at 11 a.m., Village East Cinema, 181 Second Avenue, $12, after-party at Fontana’s, 105 Eldridge Street ARACELI CRUZ



Put on your best Stevie face

If Stevie Nicks were to attend Night of a Thousand Stevies incognito, what would she wear? Nicks is rumored to have attended the massive annual fan event disguised as herself back in 2000. “I cannot confirm or refute this,” says Chi Chi Valenti, NOTS’s founder and producer, “but several of the fanatic Stevie lovers swore they saw someone who had the same retinal patterns as Stevie.” See if you can spot the real deal or just some truly awesome look-alikes beneath all the beads, lace, and chiffon at the NOTS 18: “Nightbirds.” An “all-Stevie, all-Fleetwood” soundtrack provides the mystical ’70s pop-rock ambience, plus performances by Cirque du Soleil star Joey Arias and puppeteer Basil Twist. At 9, Highline Ballroom, 431 West 16th Street,, $25 SHARYN JACKSON



Two veteran rap acts take their next best shot

Perhaps the only major rap-and-r&b act weirder than the Roots—the long-running and curmudgeonly collective from Philadelphia—is Erykah Badu, whose new album, entitled New Amerykah Part One (4th World War), bears little resemblance to even a single piece of music released in the last decade. Her early days as neo-soul’s Billie Holiday seem laughably far away; today, her idiom—one part esoteric philosophy, two parts sample science, all held together by Badu’s helium-squeaky declamations—has more to do with ’70s-era paranoid funk than with modern rap’s blithe material contentment. The Roots, who tote their own brand-new Rising Down to Radio City tonight, know a thing or two about discontentment as well: Rising Down opens with a tape of a 1994 phone call between band and management, in which the group wakes up to the painful fact that it no longer controls its own artistic destiny. They’ve been fighting for creative control ever since. At 8, Radio City Music Hall, 1260 Sixth Avenue, 212-247-4777, $55–$80 ZACH BARON

This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on May 6, 2008

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