What a time it must have been, the age of the Warhol Superstars, Andy Warhol and his Factory, holding court downtown, the early ’60s – shooting speed, holding happenings, the Exploding Plastic Inevitable, unleashing the Velvet Underground on the world – this bizarre new scene full of artists who seemed to do nothing except walk around talking about how they were artists, led by this guy with white hair who painted a giant can of Campbell’s Soup and talked about how we’d all be famous, just for a bit, in the future. It didn’t last very long, of course, things like that never do, but at the same time, in some senses, it never ended – people are still talking about the Superstars, after all, and people are still fascinated by the downtown scene, even if there really isn’t one anymore. (Well, there is, sort of, but the entrance fee’s a lot higher now.)

Jackie Curtis was one of the lesser Superstars, or at least one of the more obscure, his name check in “Walk on the Wild Side” notwithstanding. Jackie probably lived a little too long, or not quite long enough, to really cement his legend; 1985 was kind of a rough year for a ’60s downtown scenester to OD. S/he did a lot of stuff, though, and deserves a little remembrance, and so Scott Wittman, of Hairspray and Smash, has put together this little revue, Jukebox Jackie, at La MaMa; it’s only running through the 10th, a rather short engagement, but a fitting one for the unassuming Warhol Superstar who might have been the most talented of the bunch. (FULL ARTICLE: Elizabeth Vincentelli, New York Post)