His Master's Voice

: Don Felix Cervantes

NYC crooner Antony heard Boy George and was saved.

by A.D. Amorosi

With a voice that starts at a quivering shiver and explodes with powerful octave-sprawling athleticism, Antony could be one of pop's finest vocalists, imbued with the depth- defying emotionalism of Nina Simone and the clarity of Mabel Mercer. But the Cali-born piano-playing crooner now making waves on New York's cabaret scene backs up the beauty with brains. His commanding lyrics, as heard most recently on I Am a Bird Now (Secretly Canadian), eloquently and frequently take on the subjects of beauty and transformation as few writers do. That stirring originality has won him fans and collaborators in like-minded (if you squint) artists such as Lou Reed, Rufus Wainwright, Boy George and Devendra Banhart. Watching the bedraggled Antony crooning at The Pyramid in Manhattan one night, in the tackiest-ever baby doll dress, I found him to be an arresting presence. His feminine countenance is never kitschy, mischievous or draggy. Besides, he sounds like Barry White when he talks.

City Paper: What made you who you are as an artist?

Antony: I've been singing and writing songs since I was 11 years old when my mother bought me a Casio. But what really informed my decision to become a singer was hearing Culture Club's first record. It was the first time I saw myself reflected in the great wide world. Unconsciously, I got the message that that's what we do when we grow up and are like this: We become singers.

CP: The Warhol '60s, the glam/punk '70s, the downtown '80s -- everything about you oozes reverence for those particular New Yorks. What drew you to that city?

A: What really attracted me was Mondo New York. The footage of Joey Arias dressed as Billie Holiday, singing "A Hard Day's Night" to a disco beat. So subversive and arresting. I wanted to be in those shadows. Plus, Vito Russo, who authored The Celluloid Closet, was my teacher in Santa Cruz. Gosh, how he hated all that natural food! Vito encouraged me to go to New York. He sensed I was wearing too much eyeliner for a normal hippie, and that I would be better off in the Rotten Apple.

CP: As a songwriter and as a singer, you always seem so open, uncynical and intimate -- almost too much so. Nature, or spirit-beings, seem to devour you in your songs. And I know you've been hit with the tag of over-self-indulgence …

A: I am interested in singing that takes me on a journey, rather than lulls me into a place. As for purity, the uncynical thing, I wish I was devoured by Devendra Banhart. He's unafraid to take risks, open his heart and follow his dreams through the maze of his mind. His arrival signified the beginning of a new time in the collective unconscious of America. Thank gosh for him.

CP: Transformation, too -- on the song "I Am a Bird Now," about becoming both woman and animal -- is a crucial theme of your work. How far are you willing to transform yourself? Has a desire to fully become a woman manifested itself?

A: Transsexuals are among the most beautiful and highly evolved creatures on the planet. Of course I dream of being one. Who doesn't?

CP: We met at Eastern State Penitentiary, on the set of Animal Factory when Steve Buscemi filmed you singing before real prisoners. What are your memories about the shoot?

A: That was an amazing day. The calendar in my album's artwork is something that I found in one of the [abandoned] prison cells. There was another barbaric little medieval cell that I entered that had the word "river" scrawled in gold letters across the wall. It broke my heart. All the real prisoner extras were on work release from other prisons in the area, there under guard for the day for pay of $3.50. I remember walking into the mess hall and all their eyes were upon me; I was wearing an ill-fitting prison shirt and had on light makeup. They just looked at me. I sang for them with all my heart that day. They appreciated it. I remember afterwards this one prisoner, a young Scottish boy, came up to me and asked if I liked the Cocteau Twins. I was floored. If you're reading this, please e-mail me, as I am in love with you still.

Antony and the Johnsons will perform Fri., Feb. 25, 7:30 p.m., $12, with Shivaree, World Café Live, 3025 Walnut St., 215-222-1400.