R E V I E W S

The legitimate poetry craze is sweeping America and The Bitter Poet is leading the charge.  Just look at what's been written about him by the experts at these fine publications.

The Aquarian Arts and Music Weekly
The Bitter Poet

Dec 28, 2002 The Sidewalk Cafe, Avenue A and Sixth St, NYC

Lach and the Sidewalk Cafe hosted the annual "Kwannakuhmass" celebration on the last Saturday of December, 2002 (Kwanzaa + Hannukah + Christmas = Kwanukamas, get it?) featuring a line-up of indie and folk performers, headlined by the wildly entertaining "Bitter Poet"  and his band, The Sound of Angst.

The Bitter Poet act is performance art in a genre by itself, comprised of many diverse elements. The Bitter Poet  himself is a capable singer and spoken word artist. His songs/poems are backed by guitar, bass and drum, playing blues, jazz and rock at a truly virtuoso level. Various exotic dancers/acrobats join him on-stage for certain specific skits.  Bitter's monologues (or the occasional dialogue with one of these beautiful female accompanists) cover the gamut from problems with dating to the tribulations of life as an aspiring performer, and from the enigma of sex to existential despair.

This night The Bitter Poet performed ten pieces, mainly from his newly released CD "Rocket Red Fingernails." He opened with a spoken word number "Outside Your Window" about stalking an ex-lover, accompanied by a compelling, slow- blues groove. Then on to a song about a stripper who left glitter all over his body and his apartment. Next, a shapely beauty, Svetlana (Miss Saturn) gave him the first of several feminist tongue-lashings followed by an sensuous hula-hoop act while wearing very little.

He followed with songs, poems and narratives dealing with his attraction toward flawed women, all backed by the tight, fine combo, The Sound of Angst. A belly-dancer named Tava did her thing, but only after first telling The Bitter Poet how little she thought of him. Then the band launched into "Get Into the Night" a rocking anthem in (get this) 7/4 time!

Tava returned in skimpy black attire to dance and sing along with The Bitter Poet about someone he dated who wore "nothing but rocket red fingernails and a shaved p..."

The act ended with a hilariously witty admonition to would-be actors: "Don't Date Your Agent." So energetic and out-of-control was the scene that by this point The Bitter Poet himself was stripped to the waist and gyrating into a state of exhaustion down amongst the audience.

The crowd demanded more, so The Bitter Poet got back into his shirt and delivered an eerie, surreal narrative, "Thrill My Fear" about a crazed lover brandishing a hot poker.

February 6, 2002
Bitter-Sweet:  The Bitter Poet at Love Sexy, Hoboken NJ
Lach, the impresario who heads up the music scene over at the East Village’s Sidewalk Café, now crosses the river weekly to host Anti-Folk Thursday nights at Hoboken’s Love Sexy Bar. Spoken-word artist  who bills himself as The Bitter Poet, appeared accompanied as always, by jazz-blues fusion trio The Sound of Angst.  He  recited and acted out his poems and even sometimes sang them in an outfit perhaps best described as 1970s Las Vegas lounge lizard. Topics ranged from trouble with women to--- well---trouble with women.  His bitter, sometimes self-pitying, sometimes self-loathing ten or twelve poems/songs were integrated with quite separate female skits having varying degrees of relevance to Bitter’s rap.  These included a rather fabulous belly-dancer; a sexy contortionist; a Rubenesque opera diva who belted out an astonishing rendition of a Puccini aria; and a gorgeously slender, punkish-goth who danced after having smashed a cinderblock with a sledge-hammer on the tummy of the contortionist laying on the sharp edge of an upturned machete.  Sound entertaining?  It was.  Especially to those who like a hard-edged, cynical and explicitly adult treatment of sex-and-ego issues punctuated by finely tuned, 50’s-beatnik style musical accompaniment--and a whole lot more!  That The Bitter  Poet  suffers the pains and frustrations that the rest of us do is comforting to witness.  And the fact that he’s talented enough and motivated enough to commit it all to poetry as well as deliver it the way he does is a boon to all who enjoy this kind of unique but still traditional form of entertainment.  - Doktor John (Drjohn46@aol.com) .

Back Stage West
April 26, 2001
The Bitter Poet's Twisted Cabaret at Masquers' Cabaret in West Hollywood
Looking like a young pissed-off Dennis Quaid, dressed like Jim Morrison in ruffled shirt and leather gear, The Bitter Poet recites his poetry to the accompaniment of a tight three-piece band, with intermittent breaks for erotic dancing and opera singing.  Really. 

The Bitter Poet's  persona is high energy, and he is undeniably a quirky figure who demands attention.  And not just because he is prone to scream at the top of his lungs, rip off his shirt, and dance about like a poster boy for Saint Vitus' dance.  Easily the most amusing poem warns us, "Date your next-door nanny with the French accent/But don't date your agent."  His litany of dysfunctional types as preferable lovers over your talent representative is the smartest material by far, seconded by "Hurricane Alexandra," a loving tribute to meteorological destruction.  "I got a taste of your luscious power," The Bitter Poet  croons, "Category five, 165 miles per hour."  Our troubled troubadour has a succession of ladies insult him and perform, including one belly- and two exotic dancers.  What works best here interstitially is the incongruous matchup of The Bitter Poet's  very strong group which lays down a light funk groove for the world's strangest version of Verdi's "Vissi d'arte." 

The Bitter Poet certainly has a, er, fecund imagination.  It's not every entertainer who can dream up a sordid story about a rapacious woman obsessed with hot pokers and then drop in, midway, "I suddenly realized we might not be as happy together as I had dreamed in the cab that night."