Although everything Kevin Reay does brings a bit of Blighty In-Yer-Face to our shores (which is a good thing) and he has his fair share of chutzpah, his real gift is his ability to create works that are not derivative and go to the heart of his subject, whether it is himself, media onslaught, or, in this case, our warped and violent culture. This aptly titled and subtly delivered
installation/performance piece combines unveiled references to several disparate music and film genres. Reay weaves these together into a witty illustration of the American psyche that only an outsider can truly see.

The subjects of surveillance, gun culture, violence and war are all topical and don't warrant kid gloves, however Army of One is about a deeper intermeshing of these male preoccupations. For our benefit he takes on the role of a certain type of loner and enacts various ritualistic behavior for the camera. We tend to have a cartoon view of this kind of creature, a
Uni-Bomber or Timothy McVeigh, but where they used to be at the back of the class they are now in the headlines continually. Is there something of this in every male on earth? A possible affirmative. Army of One can't help but be accessible, and though it has a ripped from 10 o'clock news up-to-datedness, it does so without managing to be mawkish, sentimental, or self-serving and condescending like much of the recent news on Iraq. It does so while linking it to several precedents. Neither does this work rely on the very tempting and popular "leftish" standby -- unfettered Bush-hate. The so-called wimpy paranoia that is often slammed on Hate Radio as being promoted by bleeding hearts who are spineless is an unfortunate syndrome that comes out of lack of Moderate agenda since there is no Left in America. But it is awful when the raging pundits' bile has even a grain of truth to it.

Army of One is a fresh statement and has an almost endearing depiction of how some of us may think. For some reason it is not scary as it purports to be, perhaps because it offers up depth of description and doesn't rely on any easy stereotyping, not to mention that it contains a good deal of wit and humor. Certainly, though, some of its implied political manifestations
ring true and may keep you up at night. When Reay shaves his own head in the pre-recorded video piece, the homage to Taxi Driver is clearly made. This allusion to a Vietnam era nutcase is brought up to date with newly disturbing ambivalence, which brings major import to the piece. These layers of historical reference add different sides to Reay's statement. The same is true of the use of Slayer's "Angel of Death." This 1986 song off their popular Reign in Blood LP is about Nazi torturer Joseph Mengele. Although the band decries any interest in white supremacy, and all metal seems to have an inbuilt irony to outsiders, this topic ties in easily with Robert DeNiro's cracked New York taxi driver. World War II, Vietnam, and insane loner assassins are all wrapped up together. The crossover of metal and army mentality is a little too convenient, but not at all inaccurate. The US Army itself chose the slogan "Army of One" for their commercials and they already use heavy fast music to push the sell. Reay also pulls from the video game market where a mesh of ultra violence and thrash music has always been a fixture. What we begin to see here is a multi-complicity and a familiar portrait of the face of our own country. I can't help but think of Columbine¹s teenage gunmen and the recent hazing at a Chicago high school. Violence is as American as apple pie.

Nowadays, or at least up until the war on terror opened a whole new Pandora's box, we have had a more tempered and complacent view of the state of America's power and abuses. Could things have gotten any worse than during the Cold War and Vietnam? Decades of covert violence and intrigue perpetrated by our CIA had seemingly played themselves out in an era of PC and non-smoking, no matter what you saw on The X-Files. Even the army had come back into favor with the general public and they do have a more humane face. In the early seventies, however, it was different. The demarcation in political belief was always age. College kids' anti-war stance, music, and lifestyle was pervasive. It is these same people and their children who are now again on the barricades. Unfortunately the reprise is never quite the same. These recent antiwar protests, though unprecedented in their speed and size, were ineffective. Perhaps because the political death of 60s-style Liberalism never gets addressed. Though we still carry the fear and paranoia from that time, we lack the political cohesion and vision to truly move forward. We need to recognize that we unknowingly switched sides when all the Dead albums were traded in for mortgages.

-James Rosenthal, June, 2003