The Scissor Sisters put on one heck of a show last night.
There were homosexuals everywhere, packed into a chamber that seemed oddly subterranean, not unlike the auditorium of some tribe of giant ants. There were a disco ball and flashing rainbow lights on the stage, colourful star designs projected undulatingly over the ceiling. A little false fog. A lot of sweat. I was trapped in the midst of the queering crowd, not too far from the centre of the stage. The spectators were like maddened beasts, but beasts that cheer and hop and sometimes pinch my bottom. There was a lot of that going around. I gyrated with them in rough accord to the music; I said 'Woo,' and 'Whee,' and 'Take your trousers off,' and 'Oops,' as one does at these events.
Jake Shears did not take his trousers off, unfortunately, but he did remove his shirt. He is a little firecracker. A very moist firecracker. Boy, did he sweat. He had to be mopped mid-show by the rest of the band. It takes a lot of effort to be that fabulous. He was both filthy and gorgeous. He looks like a guy you once slept with. He doesn't resemble any particular guy, more the archetypical guy you once slept with. He partakes strongly of the nature of the Platonic form of That Guy You Once Slept With. And I gather he used to live here in Seattle. He emits powerful waves of homotronic energy; do not attempt to operate heavy machinery under the influence of these waves! He encouraged audience members to take their clothes off, and was then pelted with shirts by his adoring fans; such is his power.
He dedicated one song to all the men in the audience he'd slept with.
Wonderful performance, too...They're such an energetic act, these Scissor Sisters. The crowd was loving it; the band was loving their loving it. They sound great live; even I felt like dancing. It was all very carnal. Like some kind of ritual sex magic. They played most of the songs from their album, and a few I hadn't heard before. I can't recall the precise order; I'm sure someone will post it on the Internet soon enough, if they haven't already. It's a shame drinks at the Showbox are so damned expensive ($5 for a gin and tonic! I mean, Christ's fat cock!), as the Scissor Sisters encourage debauchery of every sort. Sweet debauchery. It was truly a show to get pawed at.
In conclusion, then, Strindberg and Helium.
Good night, and God bless.
What do you mean, it's the middle of the afternoon?
Oh. Right then.
Posted by aloysius at September 24, 2004 02:17 PM | TrackBack |