By Marke B.

My fantasy gay post-diva dance music, y'all:

La Prohibida, "Flash"

In this week's Super Ego clubs column, I interview local circuit diva-in-training Caroline Lund, and get into some ideas I've been chewing on about the state of gay dance music, now that the mainstream has embraced outright divadom. I started thinking about all this, funnily enough, when I got stranded in Vegas for a day a couple weeks ago (missed my flight, typical). Against my better punkrock instincts, I ended up totally engrossed in the Cher and Bette Boutique in Caesar's Palace, which sold innumerable tchotckes bearing those two classic divas' likenesses, both of whom have wildly successful shows running in the theater that was built for, ugh, Celine Dion. I bought a Cher mug and shirt. (Side note: the boutique was staffed by Burner-looking FTMs. Then: Chastity Bono became Chaz. But I digress.)

My somewhat-valid prejudices about the circuit scene are no secret to my amazing readers. All three of marvelous you. But because some interpreted the column as broadsiding vocal house in general, not just the really boring screamy phony kind, I wanted to clarify. I’m a proud if slightly-closeted freak for vocal house histrionics of the soulful, gospel-derived variety. Throw on a classic Ann Nesby or La india track and my dancey pants get even wetter. The Jesus squealing can occasionally wear me out, but I get lifted by the spirit. And this little number has basically been my personal theme song for the past 17 years, getting me through some real situations:

Martha Wash, "Carry On"

Which kind of leads into this: The other day I got Facebooked to join the group “I remember Club Universe” – something Caroline Lund and I (and thousands of others) have in common. Throughout the ‘90s, up until that massive, all-swallowing Saturday night ground zero for vocal house (run by the great Audrey Joseph, now of the city's Entertainment Commission) closed in 2002, Lund coordinated the dancers who wriggled on the risers until well into Sunday morning. Meanwhile, I stumbled around Universe’s huge 177 Townsend space wondering why all the substances I had ingested weren’t making me want to dance more. (Wait a minute, that may have been the source of the problem!)

OMG, this whirling light spaceship thing at Universe that would dip down and scare tweakers into a frenzy was sooo cheesy.

Continue reading "Super Ego: More Universal gay diva musings" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 05:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Love for the Sake of Love party promo

SF club scene mover and shaker -- and stunning video artiste -- Christopher McVick has launched an effort to help Galveston, TX, celebrate Juneteenth -- the wonderful holiday that celebrates the abolition of slavery. Galveston was where the original celebration took place, but the annual tradition has been threatened by last year's heinous Hurrican Ike. So several beloved SF nightlife personalities and bands are coming together this Sunday at SubMission (the old Balazo space) and raising money to help this awesome tradition continue. Full lineup -- including DJ Omar, House of Salad, fAction, and We are of Atlantis -- after the jump.

Love for the Sake of Love
Sun/7, 8pm-midnight, all ages
$10-$20 donation for 21+
$15-$20 donation for 18-20
No one will be turned away for lack of funds!
Sub/Mission
2183 Mission, SF
www.sfheartsgalveston.com

Continue reading "Super Ego: Love for the sake of love" »

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Posted by SFBG at 03:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Writing about electronic music in this Age Of Everything Always Available seems to be more and more an exercise in nostalgia. Artists are caught up mousing over the pull-down menu of the past, widgeting it into today's latest technology -- especially in the case of video mashups. (A similar-type thing happened with the debut of the CD, when the past was rummaged through for reissue-mania, and, as the Guardian's Johnny Ray Huston has pointed out, reissues still hold dollar-sway and carry much label cred in the record industry). Earlier this year, I attempted to fathom how Israeli YouTube mashup genius Kutiman was working the nostalgia tip -- not in the literally referential, crate-digging manner of DJ Shadow, but in a melancholic, sampladelic way all his own.

Now -- joy of joys, for real -- we have the latest video mashup by one of Kutiman's indisputable forebears, Fagottron. This, you cannot deny the literal nostalgia of. Not just because he's tapping directly into the mid-90s heyday of electronica -- but because he's freaking sampling the Disney movies of yesteryear. "The track is composed of a sine wave bass, custom drum sequences, and sounds recorded from the Disney film Mary Poppins," the YouTube more info box relays, deliciously. Funny, that was going to be my epitaph.

Fagottron, "Expialidocious"

And Fagy's not just unleashing his dizzying Avid skills on the super-famous flicks (although I'd love to see his version of Ariel) -- here's a couple he did two years ago that took me back to those misty "movie afternoons" in the grade-school gymansia of my youthfulness, albeit in slightly freakier form:

Fagottron, "White Magic"

Continue reading "Pop-pop-Poppins with Fagottron" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 08:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Your hostesses Heklina and Renttecca, rolling loaded. Photo by Eric Stein.

Oh lord, is it really that time again already? Time for SF's crazy drag queens to take their "retarted" acts to a largely unsuspecting hinterland?

I just got wind that homelesslike party Charlie Horse is headed to Fresno (more on that later), and now, here I am posting about the annual Trannyshack bus-terfuck road trip to Reno. Oh hell yeah, there'll be spastic vogue drops droppin' in the Mickey D's.

And really, it's all about the journey:

Isn't this the real reason that California might split in two?

So, yes, the much-bemourned Trannyshack is rising from the zombie-swamp, loading a bunch of freaks up onto a couple of busses, and taking over Reno's bars, hotels, casinos, and sidewalks for a couple of days. It all goes down April 11-12 (Easter weekend). Won't you join them in a total blackout? Tickets available now!

Full release deets straight from the whorses mouth at www.trannyshack.com and after the jump. Try not to gag on the professionalism!

Continue reading "Super Ego: All aboard for Trannyshack Reno, woot" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 01:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Yep, queeroids, it's one of those rare and muy delicioso head-to-heads that a nightlife writer lives for: This Saturday night, one of SF's biggest hot dyke parties, Cockblock, squares off against the highly anticipated launch of a giant new alternative fag party, Cockfight. That's right:

VS.

Could it get any better? Only if you trade your GluStik for paint thinner.

In the irrespective corners:

Continue reading "Super Ego: Cockblock vs. Cockfight!" »

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Posted by SFBG at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Wait a minute, it's February? Sheesh. In the spirit, perhaps, of our recently bipolar weather systems and my on-again off-again memory banks, I've been raving in my cubicle to two disparate tracks all week -- one a tingly, moody laptop dubstep (lapstep?) zonker by Mount Kimbie:

Mount Kimbie, "Maybes"

And the other some good ol-fashioned achingly lovely wronged-woman house by Teddy Douglas of the Basement Boys, with his frequent collaborator, the immaculately voiced Margaret Grace. I've never really been a fan of Teddy's basic-seeming beats, but this one really comes together around the three-minute mark, and grows and flows like a classic track by Quentin Harris (who actually cribbed quite a bit off the old Teddy, melody-wise):

Neither of which will probably be played at any of the choice upcoming parties below, but hey -- a miracle mashup in my wobbly head can be dreamed and deemed righteous, no? Check these out, and also more in my latest Super Ego clubs column. Do whatcha like!

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ROLLER DISCO PARTY
In absence of a nearby rink, rollerskating parties have found a new home in nightclubs and galleries. Just watch out for those warped floors! Do the bump, indeed. SF Indie Fest is throwing a Big Lebowski-themed shindig on wheels at CellSpace, with tunes by the Black Rock Roller Disco camp. Rentals provided - snowball and bromance optional.
Fri/13, 9 p.m., $10, $5 with costume. CellSpace, 2050 Bryant, SF. www.cellspace.org

Continue reading "Super Ego: Bear attacks, roller skates, dry humps" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Photos from Feb. 4's jungalicious Booty Call party by Brandon Norris. Hi-ya, Terry T!

This past Friday, Hunky Beau and I breezed through the new and a little lamely named Club Q (didn't every college town have a straight bar with a gay night called "Club Q" or "Q Bar" or something Q-similar on some random week day? Maybe that's the point, here. I'll keep mum on the continuing genericalization of the Castro.) In any case, it didn't look like it had transformed much beyond the location's past incarnation, Bar on Castro, which is now Bar on Church, on Church. Confusing! Well, maybe there was some more red lighting.

One definite vote for the new joint though: Joshua J. and Miss Juanita More have kept their fantastically successful Booty Call nights there.

Your hostess and sometimes DJ, Miss Juanita More

Every Wednesday, fashionista gays (and alt friends!) gather to prance around to some soothing disco, funk, and soul, while fab photog pulls people into the theme-decored back room to snap them in party glory.

Continue reading "Super Ego: Hear that Booty Call y'all" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 11:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

by Laura Peach

Give a little love and get a flamboyant and fabulous evening of cabaret-style entertainment on the night before Valentine's Day. (Yes, lonely people, I'm especially talking to you -- it's cheer up time.) The Richmond/Ermet AIDS Foundation is holding an all-star benefit performance Monday evening bursting with cabaret, Broadway, and silver screen stars. The proceeds from "All You Need Is Love", which is hosted by the Richmond/Ermet AIDS Foundation, will go to local non-profits like Sunburst Projects, which provides social and emotional support for families affected by AIDS. Which means your laughter and delight will be totally guilt-free as well.

Continue reading "All you need is love ... and Disney?" »

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Posted by SFBG at 07:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

I just got word about another installment of the fantastic BiBi party, happening this Saturday night at Club Six. BiBi's the number one top happening for queer folks of SWANA (Southwest Asian–Northern African) descent -- ladies, the ladies who go are fucking gorgeous -- and their admirers. DJs Emancipacion, Josh Cheon of Honey Soundsystem, and Massood wil bring their exhilarating blend of traditional and contemporary Arab, Persian, Indian, and Latin hits, because basically if it's brown, they're down. Palestinian hip-hop duo NaR will be performing, as will fave-rave dancer Cherry Gallette. Part of the proceeds will benefit Middle-East Children's alliance.

Lucky for club kids like me (who also happens to be a big queer Arab!) the party will take place at the same time as dread bass monthly Surya Dub's huge 2-year anniversary bash that I wrote about in my last Super Ego clubs column, also at Club Six in the basement and main room for a separate fee. All-night belly dancing, Palestinian hip-hop, and bowel-shaking dubstep beats? I'm all over it.

BiBi
Sat/7, 9pm-afterhours, $10/$15
Club Six
60 Sixth St., SF.
www.clubsix1.com
www.myspace.com/bibisf

Read more SFBG Noise blog clubs coverage here and more Super Ego clubs columns here.

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

By Marke B.

It's time for you weekend nightlife forecast, but first this update from that horribly "hip" new Domino's BBQ chicken pizza campaign:

Viral! Compare that, of course, with SF's very own dirty techno birdie, Claude VonStroke -- and is anyone else 100 blog centuries old like me, and remembers that whole Burger King "subservient chicken" viral campaign where you could tell the guy in the chicken suit what to do? From like 2k3? OH MY GOD IT'S STILL HAPPENING!!!

I'll never understand why we always make cute what we want to eat. Except puppies. Even kitties are cheezburger on the Internetz.

But let's put away childish things, shall we, and dig into some of this weekend's better affairs:

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TONITE! THU/22

THE NOISE

New local promotion juggernaut Hacksaw Entertainment launches with a grab-yr-cha-chas blast at 103 Harriet -- featuring, of course, my laptop life-love Lazer Sword bringing the future bass soundz, plus the very talented Ana Sia who'll bring some of her techno-burner pedigree to the tables, and SF mashup psyphy duo Hookerz and Blow, who blow the hooker-roof off live .... High-tail it to the H&B MySpace page and check out "Blow the Whistler" and it's Too $hort meets Claude VonStroke (again with him!) for some pure traffic jam genius.

The Noise
Thu/22, 10pm, $7
103 Harriet, SF
www.hacksawent.com

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FRI/23

ALPHABEATS

Beloved DJ Andrew Phelan and the rest of the chunky beats Prismatic crew -- the promos behind the hyperinventive Tonal color-coordinated loft parties -- bring in the big names for their AlphaBeats party, subtitled A is for Alien (I eagerly await B is for BetaMax). I would scoff a little at the umpteenth appearance of 90s god Doc Martin, but his set at LoveFest this summer was out of hand with its perfect blend of old school house numbers and new school choons. Doc's never really been known for his subtlety on the tables (it's all about bangin' hard into the cosmos), but he's definitely evolved stylistically as a major dance artist. BONUS: Sunshine Jones, of fave raves Dubtribe Sound System, will be on hand to spread it. DOUBLE BONUS: dress as an alien and get a free mix .... do it now!

AlphaBeats
Fri/23, 10pm-4am, $15-$25 (presale info here)
DNA Lounge
375 11th St., SF.
www.dnalounge.com

Continue reading "Super Ego: Alien techno chickens go bang, with hacksaws" »

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Posted by SFBG at 04:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wow, oh wow -- not only is San Francisco's premiere punk-mess drag queen Anna Conda hosting a very-special-guest version of her weekly Charlie Horse party this Friday, BUT she'll then be retracting her greedy, greedy claws for a really good cause on Saturday afternoon at The Mix bar in the Castro. Sleeplessness!

Anna Conda: doin' good, whatever it takes

She'll be hosting a beer bust -- featuring a gaggle of too-wild and possibly just-assembled drag performances -- to help out Community Housing Partnership, a lovely local nonprofit which houses formerly-homeless people. For ONLY $10, you can mingle with the rock stars of indie drag and refill your little plastic beer cup as much as you like. For a good cause! Plus, a raffle.

Anna Conda's Sublebrity Beer Bust for CHP
Sat/17, 3-7pm, $10
The Mix
4086 18th St., SF
www.sfmixbar.com

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

Is there such a thing as talent? REALLY? Every philosophical question you have about drag gets tossed up and around when the famously scattered yet oddly hypnotic and definitely entertaining House of Salad takes over, as it will this Friday at Charlie Horse, the infamously packed and outlandish punk/rock/grunge/country/??? party hosted by Anna Conda at the Cinch on Polk Street.

I haven't ever been able to assign an aesthetic to the Saladeers -- mostly because there's so many of them, and mostly because no matter what's been planned going in, it all usually ends up pretty fucked up. But this newest House does give off a few pungent qualities: they always defy definition, from queen bee Ambrosia's post-melodramatic take on contemporary dance anthems to Kadija's super-techno and dubstep shakedowns, to Stanley and friends' old-school vaudeville. And they always put on a good show -- even if it's hilariously undercut by a fierce lack of studious stage effects. The girls need to find the spotlight sometime.

Yet of course I adore them, and you never know WHO is gonna pop up in the Salad spinner. Or what "giveaways" they'll be packing. (Hint: little, brown.) Basically it's all about thrown-together deliciousness, so just hold out your bowl and dive in.

Ambrosia Salad et al at L.A.'s Shits & Giggles party

House of Salad at Charlie Horse
Fri/16, 10pm (show at midnight), free
The Cinch
1723 Polk, SF.
www.thecinch.com

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Posted by Marke B. at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

A sad week -- possibly, see below -- for queer punks and their admirers: beloved monthly Trans Am, which has torn up the floor of Club 8 (and confused quite a few Korean tourists expecting a campy tranny floorshow) for two whole years is calling it quits. Dangit!

The mad punk spirit will live on at weekly dragtastrophe Charlie Horse and Trans Am promoters Bill Picture and DJ Dirty Knees's other monthly joint Chrome, but Trans Am booked a ton of live talent that wouldn't have gotten as much exposure without them. Plus, there were always a few hot boys.

I asked Picture about the club's tearjerking demise and plans for the future (drag ball!). His comments after the jump:

Continue reading "Super Ego: Trans Am effs off" »

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Posted by SFBG at 08:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Marke B.

It occurs to me -- your nightlife numbskull, your good-times guide -- that my Super Ego column this week and its bloggy follow-up, which focussed on some of my fave queer clubs, was a tad phallocentric. Dykes are HOTTT! Including the invisible ones. Here's an especially lovely lesbian hoedown coming up, with more dyke nightlife delights to come.

Diamond Daggers Disco Thanksgiving

The enormously talented and flexible all-queer-women burlesque troop Diamond Daggers blew naughty minds at the Castro Street Fair and have been perfoming monthly at Fat City lately. Who can deny their death-defying feats of daring dykeness? Not me. This time around, on Sat Nov. 22, they're presenting a "Disco Thanksgiving" for all you polyester turkeys stuffed with shards of mirror ball and platform giblets.

Oh yes, there's an especially all-star lineup for this one as well: dark god Vinsantos, "princess of pork" drag superstar Glamamore, fabulously nimble SF Boylesque troupe, local cabaret starlet and "Oakland's Chocolate Kisses of Burlesque" Alotta Boutte, drag king singer Leigh Crow aka Elvis Herselvis, and many, many more than listable in this infinite webspace. The disco part will be provided by girl-about-town DJ Campbell and the mysterious C’est Jille. C'est chic! Let's freak!

Diamond Daggers Disco Thanksgiving
Sat/22, doors 9pm, show 10:30pm
$12-$20 sliding scale
Fat City
314 11th St., SF.
www.myspace.com/DiamondDaggersBurlesque

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In this week's Super Ego clubs column, I feature some truly cutting edge homosexual dance parties to wiggle your Prop 8 blues away at. Of course, there wasn't room for all of them -- here's a couple more, with more to come, to whet your limp-wrist whistle.

To get us going, here's the brand-spankin'-new vid for "Tweaker Bitch" by SF's very own rockin' crazies Mon Cousin Belge (one of our 2008 Hot Pink List queers we love). Tweak it, Tina!

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All aboard for Booty

What's better than a club hosted by wild personalities that drags you into a phenomenally, artistically decorated back room to snap your photo? One that comes out with it's own freakin' calendar. Yes, I'm talking about Booty Call, Juanita More and Joshua J.'s packed weekly Wednesday night affair at the haplessly-named Bar on Castro.

This Wednesday is Booty Call's first anniversary, and they've just released their 2009 calendar, featuring hot More Boys (and one girl) photographed by the ever-cute Brandon Norris, which you can purchase here.

Booty Call Wednesdays
9pm, free
Bar on Castro
456 Castro, SF.

But wait -- there's more!

Continue reading "Clubs: Bitch, B*tch, Booty Call" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

And ... we're back! In honor of a fresh new crop of limpwristed video-drones (and the inclusion of my Gayest. Music. Ever. essay -- toot! toot! **own horn** -- in the just-released Best Music Writing 2008 book) I'm compelled to resurrect back our much lauded Gayest. Videos. Ever. feature. Possibly for the last time! And yet October releases are simply brimming with digigay overload. Here's a few that are getting my loafers lighter ....

Frankmusik, "Three Little Words" (will this vid finally make the Bar on Castro electro? The backups are 80s trannies who do robot plus giant rainbow keyboard equals I would have bought the 12" in 1985 on import)

Ssion, "Credit in the Straight World" (soooo FGGT/cruising/warjola, young marble giant!)

Continue reading "Gayest. Videos. Ever. (Pt. IV)" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 05:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Michelle Broder Van Dyke

If you want to see naked ladies and full-tilt dick, then Gravy Train!!! - one exclamation point for each member of the band - has the show for you. Members of the Oakland fourpiece almost always get outta-hand and nude onstage while serving up their saucy sounds. Chunx, Hunx, Junx, and Funx take turns on guitar, bass, keyboard, and vocals, and usually prance onstage wearing neon-pink spandex, fishnets, or feather boas. If all goes well, they’ll be wearing less than that by the end of their set.

Electropop is the name of Gravy Train!!!!'s game, and while not brilliant, their catchy sound sports lyrics that run the gamut, from advocating boning high school boys to the frustrations of men with petite wieners. Their raps are particularly impressive, and include such clever rhymes as “I had some 40z on my mind when I woke up this mornin' / I was sick of fancy drinks from the bitches I’d been bonin’ / Wanted to get trashed, lay down and drink my stash / Get up and make a quick dash then bat my fuckin' eyelash / At the big nasty bottle of the shit I drink / You may call me a ghetto freak but I won't even blink / Don't even try to contain the 40z that I drain / I leave a malt liquor stain like a fucking freight train” ("Sippin 40z").

Continue reading "Naked funk? Get on the Gravy Train!!!!" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 11:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ah, my anarchic, incorrect geighs -- I haven't checked in with them in a while, and I'm sure they've been up to alot! Besides Q-Tipping playa dust out of their cracks. So here's a fun threesome of upcoming things from the homo-club-intelligentsia to enjoy. And by "enjoy" I mean "masturbate." And by "masturbate" I mean "enjoy." It's an antimetabole!

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Bitch

"Bitch" has become such a fraught word in this election. So let's add flaming to the fire and go to a club called Bitch on 9/11! Right on. (Hey we've already had 9/11 in July...) Mistress Monistat is throwing another of her fabulous straight-bar takeover shindigs at Vertigo this Thursday to wipe away your Al-Quesadilla Al-Qaeda blues. Mona's been a little stingy on the DJ info, just like she is with the baggie, but I do know that the inimitable Anna Conda of Charlie Horse (pictured on the flyer below) will be there, doing something, with something. But cocktails! Disaster!

Bitch
Thu/11, 9pm-2am, free
Vertigo
1160 Polk (at Sutter), SF.
(415) 674-1278

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Chicken

Cluck, cluck, goosed -- The ever-gooful Miss Juanita More is hosting another of her infamous Funky Chicken Brunches on Sun/14 afternoon at Mars Bar -- and all the cool kids will have their napkins out for her delicious fried chicken and heavenly home-baked (just like her!) carrot cake. The chicken's good -- and so's the chicken!

Continue reading "Clubs: That chicken got runt over, bitch" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 06:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dressy: A past Mon Cousin Belge performance

Mon Cousin Belge (with Girls, Bridez, and the Passionistas)
Aug. 28, Cafe du Nord

By Lauren Giniger

Man, that rare warm summer night we had last week really messed up my program. It took me forever to get out of the house, and it was all clothing-related indecision, and consequently I missed three groups of the fun four-band lineup at the world-famous-in-San Francisco performer Mon Cousin Belge's record-release party.

Now it's true, the hipsters left en masse (really, is there anything they don't do en masse?) after Girls' set, but that just left a very enthusiastic core of fans for Mon Cousin Belge's turn. MCB, much like Obama, benefits from the "enthusiasm factor," and MCB fans really, really, really love MCB. Emile is a compelling frontman, his theatrics propped on top of a set of powerful pipes, and the band's music possesses a delicious, glammed-out sensibility.

MCB started their set with slow-burn cover of Roger Miller's "The Crossing," and reached a sort of rock fever pitch with "Ugly American" and "Tweaker Bitch." Emile's long-lost brother in botched plastic surgery sat in with some guest vocals, and both delivered drama of the hair-metal variety. So many of MCB songs are so great. They're funny, edgy, and recognizable - who among us doesn't know a tweaker bitch? While the guitar jangles and the keyboards hark to '70s anthems, the drums carve out a stripped-down post-punk beat to counterpoint all that top-heavy glam.

Hipsters, next time stick around even if your friends don't. San Francisco fags and those who love them elevate MCB to cult-band status. I don't make history, but I dig it.

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 09:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

While I'm still waiting for a response from owner Greg Bronstein about the supposed "new direction" that his bar the Transfer -- our City's most beloved alternaqueer and ultrahipster dive-hole -- is supposedly taking (as I reported earlier), another regular party besides Frisco Disco and Lustre has decided that the next date will be its last there. Everyone's transferring out! I just got word from promoter Joshua J. that his raucous monthly homo-disco-circus spectacular, Big Top, which is celebrating its one year anniversary at the Transfer on Sunday August 31, will end after that date.

Joshua is part of a VERY successful Wednesday weekly, Juanita More's Booty Call, at another of Bronstein's joints, Bar On Castro, and assures me -- despite the odd timing -- that he's folding his Big Top tent so that he can concentrate on his new Friday party with the illustrious Frankie Sharp, called M4M, at Underground SF. And indeed, if the Transfer truly is looking to go all upscale, Underground SF should snatch all its shit and bring it for the alternaqueers and rangy str8s. I don't like the looks of the flyer below much -- seems a little LCD -- but hey, I'll check it out. Especially if there's a cologne-blast of mojito-squealers big-upping C+C Music Factory unironically at the Transfer.

This is a golden opportunity, really, for any bar still willing to be open-minded enough to really let something creative happen in this city. Deco, Club Eight, Matador, Buckshot Tavern, Amnesia, or Rickshaw Stop are well-positioned to lap up the new party homeless. You may not make loads of $$, but I'll write about you more! Legendary.

I really can't fault Bronstein for wanting to make money off his business -- he's allowed the Transfer to be the most exciting and edgy club in the City for the past three years. I know he's planning to expand and renovate his slick Jet venue up the street, so maybe he's freaking about the duckets it'll take. His usual thing is rather chi-chi, not even always in a tacky way. But it's just sad. Plus I'm guessing that he was none too polite about the changes (although I really want to hear his side of it before I jump to unjournalistic conclusions): the Frisco Disco kids are absolutely fuming. Read their explosive farewell kiss-kiss MySpace post after the jump -- to the tune of "Death of a Disco Dancer" by the Smiths:

Continue reading "Clubs: More Transfer kerfuffle -- Big Top bows out" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 09:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Alas, the rumors -- most of them anyway -- are seeming to be substantiated. Word kept hitting my hotline last week that owner and fairy impressario Greg Bronstein was effecting a management and direction change at the fantastic gay/hipster/hipster-gay ground zero, The Transfer. Many of the Transfer's beloved party institutions appear to be fleeing. (Update: even more are fleeing.)

That includes, incredibly unfortunately, the wonderful six-year-old Frisco Disco, which has grown world famous as an international hotspot for scenemakers who don't mind a little party puke on their stilettos. Alas! This Saturday is the final Frisco Disco at the Transfer.

This party's been homeless before -- it journeyed to the Transfer after a successful -- perhaps too successful -- run at Arrow Bar, now Matador, on Sixth Street. It may be back, too, after a short hiatus -- but definitely not at the Transfer. The Frisco-ites claim that Bronstein said they were too rowdy for him, although they still adore the Transfer staff etc. I'm trying to get a hold of Bronstein now for comment. Also announcing Transfer departure: Lustre, the goth new-wave night. San Francisco may be on the verge of losing one of its most interesting alternative party venues ... more to come!

FINAL FRISCO DISCO
w/ DJs Jeffrey Paradise and Richie Panic
Sat/23, 10pm
The Transfer
198 Church at Market

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Posted by Marke B. at 01:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Hey, girl, hey: In this week's Super Ego clubs column, I talk to the reigning king and queen of SF Drag: Fudgie Frottage of this Saturday's 13th Annual San Francisco Drag King Contest, and Heklina of Trannyshack, whose weekly club is coming to a nuclear close after 12 years as I type this (listen very carefully and you can hear dizzy trannies exploding in the distance....) before her giant Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party on Aug 23 at the Regency Center.

Footage of the century: A youngish Heklina plugs the first Trannyshacks at Fudgie's legendary DragStrip club, April 14, 1996. Arturo Galster MCs.

Look at me, I'm a starfucker. Below is my extended, unexpurgated, sticky-fingered interview with Fudgie, aka Lu Read, whose hairy roots stretch back to the heyday of SF's punk rock drag scene. Strap one on and dive in.

SFBG: This is your lucky 13 -- are you planning anything, like, spooky? Are there any SF Drag King disaster stories you can share?

Fudgie: Well, our theme this year sets us Kings donating to a sperm bank -- that is genetically spooky to many, though most find it hilarious. Drag King disaster stories? Well, last year one of my balls failed to inflate during the opening number "Big Balls," but the concept got across so it wasn't a total disaster.

Yes Nurse! No Nurse! Photos by Larry Utley

SFBG: What in general do you have planned for this glorious, gorious evening?

Fudgie: Hard and throbbing musical productions, firm and penetrating performances, and extraordinary feats of entertaningly unbridled masculine stamina and staying power. Cohost Indra and I have a few surprizes, Electro, the Pop n' Lock King, SFDK title holder from 2000 is flying in from NY as our special guest. He hasn't performed here for 8 years and I'm really looking forward to seeing him -- he is a fantastic performer!

The Contest is very much like a variety show, we've got bands like The Mighty Slim Pickins and TuffnStuff, aerialist burlesque with Kitty Kitty Bang Bang: some Kings lipsynch, some sing live, some choreograph amazing dance routines, of course there's Fakin' Aiken, this year's title holder plus the troupe title holders The Pacmen from Sacramento who are adorable, talented and handsome. Surely Delicio Del Toro, L. Ron Hubby and Seimen Marcus will do something wild and crazy. The contest is like a mash-up of the Miss America Pageant, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Project Runway, Halloween and a Monster Truck Show.

Fudgie gets fishy

SFBG: An annoying thing for me: Many people I know, even smart ones, don't know much about the drag king community -- drag queens get all the freakin' press. What do you think about the lack of drag king visibility on the SF scene?

Continue reading "King me, Fudgie: Spermin' out with drag's biggest baller" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 10:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As many if not all know by now, Trannyshack, revered weekly trash-drag temple of glittery gore from the planet Thrift Town, is ending after 12 years of tranny antics (trantics?). Head honchette Heklina revealed to me the exact reasons why in a candid interview back in early February -- and I didn't even have to score her any hot sex with quadriplegic Desert Storm veterans in return! She's magnanimous. I'm scoopy. We traded memories.

Right now, Trannyshack's counting down to its close with a series of four command performance nights featuring fave messy queens from the present and past. That will be followed by a ginormous, absolutely ginormous, Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party at the Regency Center on August 23. This shindig will double as this year's famed Trannyshack Pageant as well, and will encompass appearances by Lady Bunny, Justin Bond, Lady Miss Kier, Ana Matronic, and more. I smell glorious disas-tears.

Let's leave this off with the incredible Glamamore's (NSFW maybe!) performance of Bjork's "Pagan Poetry."

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about that crazy Tecktonik dance phenomenon sweeping Europe -- and especially Paris -- into its robotically flailing arms, and usually set to electro banger tunes. The craze has been getting a lot of mainstream attention of late, and fab online network Current TV video reporter/hottie Philipp Mayrhofer has put together this entertaining and very informative look at the scene, along with some interesting background. Yes, Tecktonik even has its own official haircut -- and this video actually takes you into the official Tecktonik salon. Them's good marketing! Plus: mimes.

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Posted by Marke B. at 04:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Detroit native gadabout Marke B. hits Movement '08: Detroit's Electronic Music Festival with a handbag full of what-what. Read part one here.

The Techno Gods surely had a little laugh on the first (graciously sunny) day of the DEMF. Even though downtown's sprawling, reinvigorated Hart Plaza on the waterfront – nestled in the shadows of the new casinos pumping serious cash into bigshot pockets and directly opposite the infamous “fist” statue that socks across-the-river Windsor, CA, in the kisser – was brimming with suburban kids and roaming tribes of fun-furred and mohawked candy ravers (love those kids!), and even though Moby (!) headlined, and started his closing DJ set by playing one of his own songs (albeit a remix of his classic “Go”), the old soul of the Detroit underground shone through in quite a few places. (Clarification: Oops my E must have kicked in then. See comment below.)

Waiting for Moby

Underground, quite literally. This year, promoter Paxahau Events has reopened the huge concrete-walled basement of the plaza, and has installed the soulful house DJs there, rather than the traditional hardcore noise experimentalists. By two o'clock, heavily muscled dance crews had stripped off their shirts and were throwing down – headspins included – to the sounds of Detroit classicists like Reggie “Hotmix” Harrell and Minx. (That night, freaky Terrence “The Phone Man” Parker and tribal-soulist Stacey Pullen would turn the underground area into a sweaty mass of writhing gay and straight bodies.)

Upside-down to the morning beat

Terrence Parker hits

So much for the house – and notably missing so far this year have been the little independent DJ setups sprouting about the plaza like tiny laptop-vinyl mushrooms – what about the four other stages? What about the techno? The main, video-projected-upon VitaminWater stage, where Moby would later thrash about like a puggle to his electroclash-tinged pop-techno throwbacks, got a slowish start with way-cerebral live sub-dub fractal burbles from local DJ-band hybrid trio nospectacle, which included Jennifer A. Paull, one of the few female knob-twiddlers at the fest. (I went with my fabulous mom, who seemed to be briefly into it.) The stage didn't really seem to catch fire, though, until Canadian techno purist DBX aka Dan Bell hit the stage in the penultimate slot at 9pm.

What Detroit techno used to look like: DBX's “Electric Shock” from a TV dance show (I think “The Scene” in the late '80s)

Continue reading "DEMF: Moby's Go-go, Hawtin clogs, DBX shocks 'em, and too high to skate" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 10:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Native Detroit gadabout Marke B. hits Movement: The Detroit Electronic Music Festival

That thing where you return to your hometown and immediately, or at least on the ride home from the ex-urb airport, begin to feel your former soul flood back into you – old or familiar buildings take on some weightier significance in the fading evening light, new buildings even more. And then you're hooking up with old friends downtown, smoking a bowl or two, generally reminiscing and catching up, and driving around looking for a party, although you wouldn't mind if you just stayed in the minivan bopping to 20-year-old Balearic beats and laughing your ass off with your BFFs.

The grand, abandoned Michigan Central Train Station, two blocks from my Corktown residence in tha D. (Don't try to throw a party here, you'll get srsly busted.)

All of which is a belabored way of saying that I didn't get much afterhours in here in Detroit last night, the “official” pre-party night of Movement: The Detroit Electronic Music Festival, now going on nine years. Sure there were big bonanza advertised shindigs – this festival attracts tens of thousands of globe-hopping techno-lovers to the bowels of the Motor City, no mean feat, that – but for me and my SF fairy-dusted baggage none of them grabbed on all night long. That's OK: where else in the world but here would you find yourself on a dance floor with legendary DJs Juan Atkins and Eddie “Flashin'” Fowlkes -- and 20 other people?

Their party “The Fuzion of Science & Techno” had moved from the Detroit Science Center to the grand Majestic Theatre at the last minute, due to what I judge to be poor pre-sales. At first that was cause for a little alarm – the Science Center party is a bit of a tradition, and with a line-up that included Theo Parrish, Mike Clark, Kenny Dixon, Jr, and Alton Miller, the lack of draw was a shocker. Plus, the usual tiny panic hits: is techno really dead? Have the “neo-electro faddists,” as Detroit music journalist Hobey Echlin calls them, taken over and relegated soulful tech-house to another early grave?

Aw, hell no, it was just midnight on a Friday in downtown Detroit. We were probably way too early, wot.

Continue reading "DEMF: Cold techno feet as big fest heats up" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 09:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Vanessa Carr

If the last Gemini Disco Paradise party was any indication (18-piece disco band Escort, performances at midnight and 3 a.m., packed crowd, go-go dancers, balloon drop, cabaret-style performances), the second Paradise this Saturday night (5/17) should deliver on its promise to be a debaucherous, all-night disco dance party channelling the spirit of Studio 54 or Paradise Garage, the infamous gay NYC nightclub from the '80s.

Christopher McVick's Paradise Disco Trailer

Mezzanine and Gemini Disco are bringing the original disco divas from the '70s Sister Sledge ("We Are Family" and "He's the Greatest Dancer"), as well as DFA's disco-revivalists Holy Ghost! (DJ set), with local supporting DJs Derrek Love and Nicky B (Gemini), BT Magnum and Black Shag (Beat Electric), and Honey Soundsystem. Christopher McVick and his entourage help ignite the disco fever with their outlandish circus/disco/cabaret antics, including theatrical choreography, stick ponies, and glitzy drag performances.

Sister Sledge perform "He's the Greatest Dancer"

Paradise All-Night Disco Party
May 17th, 10 pm to dawn, $15 advance
Mezzanine, 444 Jessie Street, 415-625-8880
www.mezzaninesf.com

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Posted by Marke B. at 01:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In this week's Super Ego clubs column, I finally take on the banger scene's hardcore electro glitz riot on the city's dance floors. The sound and style originated in France, mostly, and is helping to resuscitate the much-maligned term "euro" -- commonly associated with over-caffeinated, hyper-sugary tunes that fitted really awful embroidered jeans and Gucci knockoff sunglasses on a couple generations of appletini swillers.

I'm much more into the new euro, needless to say, and in Paris at least, bangers are associated with a dance craze, tecktonik (also spelled tektonik). Here's what it looks like, to the wonderfully banged-up tune of fabulous French rapstress-chanteuse Yelle's "A Cause de Garcons." (Her show here at the Independent last month was off the hook, btw, and she featured a sequined pink Stephen Sprouse-like dress reading "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Fierceness!)

Goofy, but sweetly energetic. The dance in fact originally started in the early-mid 2000s, in Parisian megaclub Metropolis, where it was performed to a much harder sound, a direct descendant of rave music: much more trancey and happy hardcore. (It's said the term "tecktonik" actually refers to the clash of hardcore dance styles coming in from Belgium and the Netherlands then, crashing into each other like techtonic plates.)

The two somewhat over-it-looking white dancers in the Yelle video above are famous lookalike tektoniquistes VaVan and TreAxy -- household names in France. Here's a video of them performing an early version of the dance, called "jumpstyle" (some still prefer to call it that, others use the name to refer to the music) and done to a "more traditional" musical style -- you can really see the liquid rave-dance origins here, and yeah, it looks more than a tad ridiculous, but why not?

There's a reason for the term "jumpstyle." Also happening at the time -- around 2005ish, as with all underground phenomena the timing is fuzzy -- and in the same clubs, but to more amped-up happy hardcore, was a revival of the Melbourne Shuffle, an old rave dance from the early '90s that really only looks good when you do it in extraordinarily baggy pants. The "shufflers" often squared off with, or at least disassociated themselves from, the tight-pantsed "jumpers." (In my head, they're like the Jets and the Sharks.) Also, despite its name, "jumping" is much more about the upper body and random skips, whereas "shuffling" is all about lower glide. Here's the Melbourne Shuffle:

So, OK, what does any of this have to do with Justice, and the Ed Banger Records scene and sound?

Continue reading "Yo, bangerz: Rave it tecktonik" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 12:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

By Joshua Rotter

Call me overly-dramatic but Duran Duran have and will forever be my favorite band. They have been since I was five. That's probably why one of my greatest regrets is opting for a Nintendo console over tickets to the "Arena" tour -- what was to be the band's final outing (with all five founding members) -- for my sixth birthday back in 1984.

While seeing reformed lineups both onstage and at record signings in the 90's, and even encountering John Taylor one fateful morning at the Noah's Bagels that I worked at in 1997, offered some consolation, nothing would come close to seeing the Fab Five together again on their 2008 reunion tour.

All pics by Quartknee Kwatek

While guitarist Andy Taylor's recent departure from the group may have sprinkled on my parade, I can't say that their Bay Area Red Carpet Massacre tour stop at Sleep Train Amphitheatre in Concord May 2 suffered for it.

The three-act show, which debuted in late 2007 on Broadway, was highly-theatrical, incorporating all the necessary show-stopping elements.

There was unique staging in the band's utilization of a simple skyscraper background and a variety of light sources -- from stage lights to bulbs -- to evoke a variety of moods instead of traditional video screens.

The musical numbers -- from the darker tracks off their Timba-Lake-produced "Red Carpet Massacre" (2007) like bass-heavy opener "The Valley", beat-driven "Night-Runner" and hip pop number "Skin Diver" complete with Timbaland rapping loop to rearrangements of the band's lighter classics such as "Hungry Like the Wolf", "The Reflex" and "Rio" -- were mixed gorgeously.

The mid-section of the show was run entirely on synthesizers and drum machines, so
tracks like "Last Chance on the Stairway" "All She Wants Is" and "I Don't Want Your Love" became even more electro-shocked, blending seamlessly with the band's cover of The Normal's "Warm Leatherette".

Josh and the boys

Continue reading "Duran Duran again again" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The storied Metro Bar in the Castro moved down the street to Church and Market a while ago (the old space became the suspiciously Metro-alike Lookout) -- and people worried for its future. Luckily, the minds behind the Metro are sharp enough to know they need a draw, and the new Metro has already become a premiere trash-drag venue (multiple Joan Crawford tribute nights aside.)

It's even managed to lure one of San Francisco's bloody, beloved drag traditions, The Cookie Dough Monster Show, run by Cookie Dough herself (with her cute DJ partner MC2), from its pleasant perch at Harvey's.

The biweekly Saturday night drag-stravaganza may be big on low-budget thrills, but its offal-covered heart is always in the right place. This Saturday, May 10, features the freakishly unexplainable House of Salad, whom I adore. These underaged children will grow up to be starz someday, I tell you -- starz.

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Holy Spazmosis!. Jumpy young rockers Anavan drove up from Salt Lake City to play the queer (and friends!) punk monthly Trans Am at Club Eight for a rapturous beer-spurtin' crowd last Saturday.

Anavan, "You're Taking Me Out"

The frantic foursome greeted us with mucho fog machine, trademark hockey helmets, drum, bass, and a wall of synths. And then everything got crazy in a voices-in-your-head way (mostly thanks to the skittering, hyperactive vocals mixed waaaay back in the echo-delay mix.)


Courtesy of the muthafuckin' LA Times

In the case of the hockey helmets, visual connections to those masked masters Daft Punk, MSTRKRFT, and occasionally (if primly painted-on facial scruff counts -- yes, I'm calling those skinny French boys out) Justice might be made. And sonically they can sometimes resemble those glam-tech outfits a teeny-tad, mostly in their boppy keyboard riffs. But Anavan adds its own cymbal-crashing, wildly energetic No-Wave twist, sure to please the art school crowd (Richard Hell is all the rage again, haven't you heard?) and dance floor maniacs as well as indie kids. I expect you'll hear them burning down discos near you soon.

(Next month a Trans Am, Sat May 3, features SF native cuties Ex-Boyfriends -- should be rocking'.)

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Posted by Marke B. at 05:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By G.W. Schulz
Photos by Mirissa Neff

METAL HANDS: A GESTURAL GLOSSARY

Every metal show contains plenty of dudes who merely headbang softly to themselves with their hands stuffed into the pockets of their tight black hoodies. A sea of empty faces they are. What fun is that? In honor of our metal issue this week, here are a few ways you can cheerlead the next time you're at a metal show.

Classic horns A staid gesture to be sure — but fairly reliable. You know the drill here. Turn it to the side and pump it like a fist for added pleasure.

The Claw When deploying just one hand to exhibit the claw, as opposed to the invisible orbs, bring it close to your face and pull downward for a melodramatic affect. Growl a little, too, like it just can't get any more metal ... when deep down you know it really can.

Land ho There's really never been a sufficient name for outright pumping your fist or fists at a show, but some folks around here are calling it "land ho." It's better off with no distinct title. Fist pumping during violent blastbeats or a huge, doomy breakdown is raw and organic, like the beginning of time. It needs no name. And it spans genres. We advise, however, that you reserve dual fists for truly metal moments. The members of Portland, Ore.'s Tragedy have been known to throw out a fist or two while playing, but this is extremely dangerous and should be done by professionals only.

Invisible orbs This is a variation of the Claw, except that you do it with both hands and hold them out in front of you rather than near your face, as if you're holding two invisible orbs. We contend that the invisible orbs should be savored while you're listening to Scandinavian metal or anything heavily influenced by it. If you scan the artwork on old black metal records, the bands are often posing with some version of the orbs, gritting their teeth and trying to look as menacing as possible.

Continue reading "METAL: Throw them horns!" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 11:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Amazing and vivacious electro-kitty Lady Tigra takes over Cafe Du Nord tonite. Look out! She's "always got her foot firmly planted up asses": (Watch those little spoons, kids)

Lady Tigra, "Bass on the Bottom"

I've been cel-chasing her all over town for an interview, following her lady tracks, but all I have to offer you is the video below and sweet memories of her purr on my voice mail. Here's the decades-old hit you may know her flirty chirp from (hello, Avenue D, Fannypak, etc!) From 1988, boy-eee:

L'Trimm, "The Cars That Go Boom"

"When lo and behold there appeared a mirage, he was hooking up his speakers in his daddy's garage." See you there.

LADY TIGRA
Fri/28, 8:30 p.m., $15
Cafe Du Nord
2170 Market, SF
(415) 861-5016
www.cafedunord.com, www.myspace.com/theladytigra <

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Honey! All photos by Joshua Rotter.

By Joshua Rotter

It's a story as old as disco. Attractive "straight" Midwesterner moves to the big city to find himself, only to get blindsided by a barrage of drugs, sex, and tea dances. True, dancing became a major component of gay life in the post-Stonewall '70s, when the dance floor served as both a place of expression and escape for many gay men. It's this defining period in gay history that novelist Andrew Holleran highlighted in his 1978 novel, Dancer from the Dance.

Taking his title from poet William Butler Yeats's 50 year-old line, "How can we know the dancer from the dance?" Holleran attempted to examine this brain-twister in his chronicle of gays looking for companionship and understanding in pre-AIDS New York City and Fire Island, by focusing on the misadventures of his beautiful yet provincial protagonist Anthony Malone, who loses himself in the shuffle and shag club scene.

Thirty years later, the Honey Soundsystem collective - DJs Pee Play, KenVulsion, Robot Hustle, Jason Kendig, and Josh Cheon - took cues from this groundbreaking work for their most recent theme party.

Continue reading "Clubs: Honey Soundsystem looks to 'Dancer from the Dance'" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Gurl, I was brought to. The inimitable DJ Jeffrey Sfire from NYC (2 cute!)

blasted classic Bam Bam acid house track "Give It To Me" from 1988 at Sunday's Honey Soundsystem Dancer From the Dance party at 103 Harriet -- underneath 1015 Folsom, and the new party hotspot -- and the roof burnt down. Yes, I'm ancient/legendary enough to have been there when this was originally tearing up the floors (at London's Second Summer of Love, no less), but the kids went wild last weekend as well. Time for another acid revival? (DJs Derek B and Silence Fiction tried this a few years back with their Jack the Club night in 2005, and it was awesome, bring it back). No real vid, but song below:

Sfire, who also specializes in gritty Italo Disco and slinky rare Euro tracks, will be on local-hottie DJ Josh Cheon's West ADD Slave to the Rhythm show tonite 9pm-11pm, www.westaddradio.com and then live tonite at Booty Call, an actually pretty great party at Bar on Castro (I know, gag, but go! Juanita More hosts!)

PS Rumor has it Sfire will also be making many guest appearances throughout the weekend at select Portland underground venues ...

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Posted by Marke B. at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

By Todd Lavoie

"Growing old, it's hard to be the angry young man/ Turn away. Turn and walk away" - so observes the discernibly less-vexed Bob Mould on his recently released District Line (Anti-), and the line is as good as any in summing up the mood shift we've seen in the guitar-wielding singer-songwriter in recent years.

With his latest, Mould still continues to stare down a demon or two, but he appears rather content to do so. Dare I say it? Oh, why not - there are moments on the disc in which he even could be described as sounding downright upbeat. Bully for him, I say, and double-bully for crafting such an engagingly diverse collection of songs. See the new Mould for yourselves Wednesday, March 26 - that's when he and his band take to the Great American Music Hall stage, folks. Me, I'm already agog over the possibilities of the set-list, considering the breadth of his quarter-century-plus career.

Since the guy brought up the subject and all, it's worth a little pondering. Ah, the angry young man thing: we music obsessives tend to really tighten our focus on this supposed issue, don't we? Holding our heroes to high standards is one thing, but denying them the same inevitability that we all will eventually meet - growing older - has always struck me as absurd. Worse yet, we often insist on freezing them in time, keeping them bottled and bathed in piss 'n' vinegar and then carping away if they fail to deliver the same blister and bluster of their early to mid-20s.

Continue reading "Bob Mould and punk that ages gracefully" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 03:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

NYC socialite Andrew Butler and warble-meister Antony Hegarty of Antony and the Johnsons have teamed up with slinky songstresses Nomi and Kim Ann Foxmann to create Hercules and Love Affair -- and have produced killer club tune "Blind" that's been rocking after-dark boxes from the Transfer to Pink lately.

Hercules and Love Affair

(Anyone who caught DJ Frankie Knuckles throwing down his own lush remix of the jam at the final Fag Fridays won't soon forget it -- or Frankie's entire tearjerking surprise set, either.) When we walked into A Different Light Bookstore in the Castro this weekend to snag a copy of super-faggotty Butt Magazine (featuring local fashion superstar duo Nice Collective showing their junk and the former drummer of local glamsters Mon Cousin Belge pounding the skins naked) and heard this loveliness pumping thru the speakers we knew it had arrived ....

Self-titled album "Hercules and Love Affair" dropped March 10 on EMI/DFA and we can't get enough of it ...

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Posted by Marke B. at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Too too much going on this Saturday March 8, kids, and these are just the above-ground parties! I don’t know how I’m gonna make ‘em all, but we just finished work on the next issue of Scene, our nightlife mag which drops next wednesday in the guardian (look for it!) and I'm ready to party my pumps off. Good thing I always carry an extra pair of bedazzled flats in my Safeway paper bag purse …

Leslie and the Lys, spaz-hop queens straight outta Iowa (via Boston) who recorded the immortal line “Wearing gold spandex pants/ I made a hip-hop album” will be rocking their goddam GEM SWEATERS at an early set (9pm) at the lezbo-rock heavenly Cockblock at Rickshaw Stop for only 10 stinkin’ bucks, which lets you stay the whole evening to hear the adorable DJ Nuxx and friends throw down.

Then it’s off to Kafana Balkan at 12 Galaxies (more info here), the city’s premier Romany dance party, with awesome, way-deeper-than-Balkan-Beatbox DJ Zejlko and friends. If it’s anything like the last one (with crazy pics we featured in the last Scene nightlife magazine) then we may not be able to tear ourselves away ….

Brass Menazerie at Kafana Balkan

to hit up one of the best-sounding parties at Mezzanine in, like, a week – Zizek featuring DJ/Rupture and Tormenta Tropical.

Continue reading "Clubs: Gem sweaters, buenos Zizeks, grimy Rupture, divas" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Were you at Trannyshack this past Tuesday? Gurl, you missed it. Miss Juanita More put on a fierce and seamless 40 minute extravaganza of "Minnie the Moocher" Victrola soul-era tributes, complete with her signature "pass out spliffs to the crowd" move. It was all pretty breathless. And my pashmina reeked of weed!

A different context ("Edge of Aquarius" night at Trannyshack) but the same smoky gist

Anyway, what I really want to announce here is that it's time for another Trannyshack Reno. That's right, a 2-day, Easter weekend, 100+ drag queen blackout/road trip on a bus to see Trannyshack take over Reno, brought to you by mega-bigwigs Heklina and Peaches Christ.

Hide the baskets

This means you may have to miss the wondrous and humongous Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence traditional outdoor Easter orgy and Hunky Jesus contest.

Continue reading "Clubs: All aboard for Trannyshack Reno" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 06:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Alex Felsinger

Magnetic Fields leader Stephin Merritt - what a chatterbox. Read the rest of his interview here.

SFBG: I made the mistake of listening to the new album on some laptop speakers, so when I plugged in a nice pair of headphones, it was nice to hear all the layers underneath the distortion.

Stephin Merritt: I’m curious to hear about people who hear it for the first time under crummy Internet conditions.

Continue reading "Distracted Noise Pop: Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt ducks the dog to chat longer" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 03:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wow -- on my second week in rehab I was scaling the drywall with toothpicks under my fingernails. But maybe if you put me in a closed studio packed full of record label plants and some stellar backing musicians (with an intro by Cuba Gooding, Jr.) then perhaps I could have delivered one of those super-extra special TV historical moments that Amy Winehouse provided last night at the Grammys, with the below double medley.

Her face at the end, a mask of screaming "fuck you" extrospective hypocrisy had me screaming "punk-ass goddess!!!"

Continue reading "Amy Grammy double-whammy kills it" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 09:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Calling all queer Arabs, Middle Easterners, and North Africans (and lusty friends) -- time for another wild, dancefloor-packing Bibi party, habibis!

Yep, it's gonna be packed -- featuring DJs Emancipacion, Bahman, and Honey Soundsystem's own Josh Cheon. PLUS: a burlesque extravaganza with Dirty Phoenix's "Asses of Evil", Happy Hyder as "Saida," belly dancing, and so many hot folks you never knew were Arabs that you'll plotz. Here's a little taste of what you'll hear as you jingle your jangles:

This is a benefit for LGBTI Middle-Eastern, South West Asian & North African (SWANA) community (and is hosted by cutie man-on-the-SWANA-scene Rostam), so Bibi there!

Bibi
Sat/9, 9pm-2am, $15
Eight
1151 Folsom
www.myspace/com/bibisf

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"The truth can finally be told, Marke B.," said Trannyshack mama bear Heklina when I talked to her about her raucous 12-year-old trash-drag weekly at the Stud going dark in August. "I was gonna shut it down on our 10th anniversary -- that's just such a good, round number -- but I was in talks for the past two years with some big time studios about a Trannyshack reality series, so I kept it going. But I guess that's dead in the water now, so it's time to move on." Alas! But hurray for Heklina taking time out to figure herself out. And Trannyshack may return as a monthly, so that would be nice.

There have been so-so-so many disgustingly wonderful Trannyshack moments in the past dozen years to try to remember fully. I think I was at the opening night in 1996, but I was on a lot of meth then, so who the hell knows? Anyway, here are some performances for the ages. I'll be adding more in the next week as soon as I get off my ass and fight my way out of this paper bag hangover (never huff Aquanet people -- it'll make your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth.) And there are a ton of Trannyshack vids on YouTube -- except for some reason they've taken down clips from "Filthy Gorgeous: The Trannyshack Movie" -- I wanted that one where Juanita More and the dwarf get naked for "Put It In My Mouth." Anyway! Enjoy!

Heklina and Glamamore "All is full of love"

Rentecca and Kim Burley, "Two Trannies, One Cup"

Continue reading "Clubs: Trannyshack (fuzzy) memories" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 01:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Show her some love: Robyn. Photo by Samantha Rapp.

By Joshua Rotter

Swedish singer-songwriter Robyn - best known in the US for her 1997 pop-R&B Top 10's "Show Me Love" and "Do You Know (What It Takes)" - might've been just another industry casualty, quickly fading into obscurity stateside due to record company mismanagement and a lack of creative control.

But on the verge of giving up in 2003, she discovered fellow Swedes the Knife's Deep Cuts CD, and reinvigorated by their electro-pop and independent spirit, collaborated with them on the beat-heavy fuck-you to her label "Who’s That Girl."

Soon she founded her own label, Konichiwa, and with producer Klas Åhlund (Teddybears), recorded her fourth studio album, the more electro-based Robyn, due out in the states this spring. Till then, her new The Rakamonie EP gives American audiences a preview of what's to come on tracks like the boombastic confidence booster "Konichiwa Bitches," the dance smash "With Every Heartbeat," and a dancehall cover of the dirty Prince classic "Jack U Off."

Now, a decade after her initial hits, Robyn returns to the US on her own terms for a three-city mini-tour to promote her new album. She'll appear at Popscene on Thursday, Feb. 7. But is this country ready for the pint-sized Swedish bombshell? Robyn was confident in a phone interview earlier this week from her first tour-stop in New York City.

SFBG: What is it like to be back in the US after a decade?

Continue reading "Clubs: Robyn goes heart to heart" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 11:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I knew it! I knew that once that trashy pole of nightlife fakulousness, Misshapes in NYC, closed, all the raunchy club kidz it spawned would either run for corporate cover (you can now hire the famous Misshapes DJs for corporate events -- will they displace Michael Bolton at next year's Oracle convention?) or hit the tragic talkshow circuit. Or hit the tragic talkshow circuit AND start their own "rap" band. Well, Johnny Makeup (aka Scotty Mouthbreather) is hitting that last option hard. Watch and wince, darlings:

PLUS: He -- along with the rest of his "V.I.P. Party Boys" will be featured on the Tyra Banks show this Wednesday discussing "how sex and drugs get tangled with fame." Um, don't you need to be famous first? Good luck to all!

PS: I've just received sad word that the other trashy pole of fakulousness (but in a seriously good way), Hot Dog in LA has closed. I'm hoping Mario Diaz, possibly the hottest promoter in the world, will now be free to lodge himself firmly in my Dumpster. Even if he did go a little too far into go-go boy territory at the end with his club ...

Hi Mario! Call me, k?

Continue reading "Clubz: Please nuke the gayz of Williamsburg" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yeah, yeah, we've all been bombarded with Italo Disco the past couple years in the clubs... BUT -- what about Italodisco tracks laid down by an actual Italian? And a cute gay fuzzy one at that?

This Tuesday night at the Transfer, fabulous Paduan superstar DJ Giacomo, one half of Italo Disco/cosmic funk/hi-NRG production whizzes Disco Dromo, guests at weekly raveup Chilidog, in association with Honey Soundsystem.

You can listen to one of Disco Dromo's awesome mixes here (Galactic Zombies -- mp3).

I first ran into Giacomo while waiting for a bus in Williamsburg on a rainy Thanksgiving vacation night. Later, in the musty, moldy basement of the Cock, Hunky Beau stuck a finger up a hole in his pants. So you know he's game for anything! (I mean that in the most respectful way possible, Giacomo!)

"Honeydog"
Chilidog + Honey Soundsystem presents:
Disco Dromo
Tuesday January 8
10pm-2am
The Transfer
198 Church (at Market)
415-861-7499
www.honeysoundsystem.com

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Posted by Marke B. at 11:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Imagine our grandfatherly gay delight at the megaspectacle promised by the approaching SF Symphony's holiday show: a big screen showing of The Wizard of Oz accompanied by a live symphony orchestra! Imagine!

Let's hope the piccolos don't drown out those flying monkeys ...

This event is looking to be super-popular, so get your tix now! Oh! And come dressed as your favorite character -- there'll be a contest in the lobby!

The Wizard of Oz with the San Francisco Symphony

Thursday, December 20 at 7:00 p.m.
Friday, December 21 at 7:00 p.m.
Saturday, December 22 at 2:00 p.m.
Children welcome and encouraged!
(Pint-sized ruby slippers not supplied)
www.sfsymphony.org

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Posted by Marke B. at 12:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ah, yes – it’s that time of year again, and why not? There was a whole lotta sonics to love this past year in music, and below is my enhanced top 10 guiltless pleasures of 2007 list. I hope you disagree with and enjoy!

1. Jill Scott, “Hate On Me”

2. Cool Kids, “Black Mags”

3. Honey Soundsystem DJs

Continue reading "Marke B's Top 10 2007" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 05:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Two things that will surely shock you:

1. I like silly music.

2.Stark Raving Brad, the angry elf model for our “Fuck the Holidays” shoot (in our Holiday Guide) makes silly music.

Photo by Neil Motteram

Yup, it’s true. The girl who writes about The Nutley Brass and Richard Cheese likes the kind of music that a guy with no hair except one neon yellow tendril plays. Which is to say, Stark Raving Brad and I have great fucking taste. And so, apparently, does the Eagle, who’s booked his band the Winsome Griffles to play this Thursday, the 13th.

Continue reading "Swish Americana with the Griffles" »

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Posted by Molly Freedenberg at 01:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Excitement! '70s-kid, Gen-X (and very probably gay) excitement! Charlotte Rae, aka Mrs Garrett from The Facts of Life is coming to the Empire Plush Room to perform cabaret versions of tunes from her album Songs I Taught My Mother.

What??? From her Broadway debut as Mrs. Peachum in The Threepenny Opera to her carrot-headed brooding over Jo, Blair, Natalie, and Tottie Tootie for most of my childhood to her current incarnation as cabaret vixen, Charlotte is tuly ... a Renaissance woman!

Tue, Nov 27 - Sun, Dec 2, $40
Empire Plush Room
940 Sutter, SF
(415) 885-2800
www.theempireplushroom.com

PS: OMFG Sally Kellerman is there Nov 23 & 24 ....

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

There's been a rash of Warholia on the club scene of late: A number of art-party installations, an attack of Joe Dallesandro clone-looks among the gay, and, of course, big sunglasses and drugged-out looking stares everywhere. Thank goddess the whole screw-on fright wig thing has yet to take off, but I bet someone's tryin'! Could it be our continued spiral into decadence caused by political powerlessness? Maybe. Or maybe it's just another generation discovering the silver-clouded joys (although hopefully not the overdoses) that fueled the Factory.

Whatevs, it's a joy. And the funnest manifestation is Club Heat, a tribute to the giant influence -- and even gianter "personalities" -- that Warhol's superstar system effected on modern club life (and art, and politics, and means of production ... ). Heat's a new monthly at the Stud -- last month's was off the hook, and this Friday is electro-stud DJ Donimo's b-day, which will most likely be scandalous -- that combines all the arty with the party to bring back the golden early years of Clublandinalia. Plus -- this one's got an '80s/kind of post-Studio 54 theme going on, which is a little mixed up, timeline-wise, but hey -- post-postmodern!. Pour one out for poor Edie, darling.

PS. I WANT MY MONEY! JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY! (Sorry, you can't call something Heat without me quoting the movie!)

Oh, Little Joe

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Posted by Marke B. at 06:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OMFG -- you knew it would happen. Girly bear rap-rock AT LAST hits the viral mainstream. And yes, it's pretty terrifying. Even more terrifying -- why is SFBG becoming a clearinghouse for bear musical releases? Because I loves me some scary, furry goodness, that's why.

JFYI -- if you wanna check out some serious bear hip hop -- ON THE FUR REALS -- check out my sexy homie Bigg Nugg below

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Posted by Marke B. at 04:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of my favorite parties of the year, Bibi, is having an encore this Saturday -- a sultry, kitschy, haremesque masquerade! Bibi is a raucous party for gay Southwest Asian and North Africans (SWANAs) -- not just those of Arabian persuasion, of course -- and their friends (my Jewish bf had a blast -- unity on the dance floor!). The last one was out of control -- the promoters only expected a few people, and yet hundreds crammed their beautiful, hipshaking female, male, and other asses into Club Eight for a pre-Pride Arab hoedown. Alalalalalalala-y!

DJs BaBa Q., Bahman, and Emancipacion take you to funky motherland with a fusion of Middle-Eastern North African & International Beats, and, yes, there'll be wild bellydancing sendups by drag queens SooozhyQ & Freyja. Nazli Hanem & Femme Fuego host, and Rostam and J. Maximillian put it all together. Plus it's a masquerade -- so wear something extra fab. I'm telling you it'll be hot -- and not just cuz I'm a naughty Lebanese homo. Here's a little taste of the tunes:

Bibi
Sat, Oct. 20, 9pm - 2am, $15
Club Eight
1151 Folsom, SF.
www.myspace.com/bibisf

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Are you bored with the series yet? Well don’t be, because we plan to drive this sucker right into the shiny, dripping dance floor. (Click here for part 1 and here for part 2)

For those just catching up, we’re asking the City’s most prominent fairies for their favorite “gay” videos, which is a bit of a takeoff on the “Gayest. Music. Ever.” cover story we ran a few weeks ago. This week, we’ve asked writer, DJ, and all around bon vivant Matt Sussman, aka Missy Hot Pants, for some of his faves. Let’s get gay on the giga!

“Oooh, blog-opportunity!” quoth Sussman, when we told him we’d pay him ten dollars to sit still long enough to contribute. “What can I get for ten dolla? Not "anything you want," just these gay-ass clips.
xo,
Missy

Samwell, "What What In the Butt"

The Village People, "Sex Over the Phone"
Ed Note: Warning! For some reason, I shit you not, Prince and the NPG are removing all clips of this at a furious pace. Therefore, after the jump, we present a really gay French parody video, in case this one gets “Princed” …

After the jump: Mae West raps! Eartha Kitt prowls! “Hairdresser”!

Continue reading "Gayest. Videos. Ever. (Pt. 3)" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 07:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I fruitlessly spent Saturday night looking for the party. Trans Am was fab as always, but after the Passionistas played, no one was dancing. Playboy was cute and had the goofy bearish boys of gay clubstravaganza Horse Meat Disco spinning around on the dance floor (they'll be laying down queeny tracks at an underground loft party this weekend), but all my shots were wearing off. I hit up d'n'b legends LTJ Bukem and MC Conrad at Temple and Detroit/Windsor techno god DJ Dan Bell at Kontrol – I even popped in on a shirtless circuity nightmare, Adonis at Space 550. Oy!

But it was one of those nights – either the music was great but the crowd was awful or immobile, or the other way around (Adonis qualified as awful on both counts). I never landed when the time was right. This was discouraging!

Fortunately, I didn’t let my disappointment keep me at home on Sunday night. Sure I wanted to chill with some Indian takeout and new Simpsons episodes, but somewhere, however faintly, a dancefloor was calling. It was Super Soul Sundayz’s second anniversary at the EndUp, and resident DJ/promoter David Harness had flown in legendary DJ Spinna from Brooklyn to tear shit up.

He took me up, he turned me out, he ... Spinna

Spinna came on after an awesome deep electrofied soul set from David, plugged in his laptop and let rip. He’s mostly a hip-hop DJ (he’s known for his work with J Dilla), but his house style is pretty unique – he likes to play two or three records at a time to get a specific groove going (one record will be totally deep and tracky in a Chicago acid way, another will be a back-in-the-day soul selection) and then he’ll use the laptop to overlay another track, maybe with some vocals or an instrumental solo, fading it in and out as he changes the records underneath. It’s a thumpy tapestry! His de-reconstruction of “I Feel Love” was out of the park, and I’ve heard folks pulling that record apart for 20 years now (I still think Derrick May does it best but, hey, he invented Techno, so … ). Anyway, I was drenched with soul and sweat 'til 4am.

DJ David Harness warms my heart, and feet

Super Soul Sundayz is every Sunday night at the EndUp. Next week’s guest is Latin sensation Mr. V. Check out some of Spinna’s music here.

After the jump -- video samples of this crazy, aurally mixed-up weekend.

Continue reading "DJ Spinna splashed my Sundayz" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

We've been compiling a little archive of local movers and shakers' favorite super-gay videos, either in context, influence, or just plain awesome swishiness. (Check out Part 1 here.) It's an webxperiment! Many of the participants appeared in our Gayest. Music. Ever. cover story from last week.

This week, local queer rock impressario Bill Picture of monthly punkrock live-act throwdown Trans Am (happening this Saturday at Club Eight and featuring The Passionistas) chimes in with a few limp-wristed doozies. Check it!

Bill peeks slyly from behind his partner, DJ Dirty Knees

For me, "gay" is more than just a more-palatable alternative to "poo-stabber." I also use it to describe things that I think are totally hot, really silly shit, and stuff that's totally lame. Check out my favorite "totally gay" videos, and you'll see what I mean:

David Bowie featuring Klaus Nomi, "The Man Who Sold The World"
Then-fence-sitting David Bowie performing "The Man Who Sold the World" with tranny-from-another-planet Klaus Nomi and future-drag-cabaret-superstar Joey Arias singing background. This "gay" falls under the "totally hot" heading. I was seven years old and fascinated by these gender-fluid freaks...

Toilet Boys, "You Got It"
Tranny-fronted headbangers Toilet Boys' "You Got It." Again, "totally hot." The first time I saw the guitarist Sean, who happens to be straight, I thought, "God, I wish I was a guitar so Sean would rub his sweaty business against me every night."

After the jump: Debbie Harry meets the Muppets, and Madonna gets exxxed

Continue reading "Gayest. Videos. Ever. (Pt. 2)" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Really? The Gayest? You be the judge – and there plenty more where these came from, believe me …. Below are some tunes mentioned in, or chosen by people mentioned in, our cover story this week. Rock on!

Dee Jay Pee Play of Honey Soundsystem

D.A.F., “Brothers”

Kevin Aviance, “Din Da Da”

Continue reading "Gayest. Videos. Ever. (Pt. I)" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 04:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Erik Morse

In the inaugural vignette grotesque of Genet’s 1949 memoir-cum-roman noir Le Journal du voleur, the black prince of literature recalls his childhood travels between Paris and the ruins of Tiffauges. Here, along the verdant slopes of the Loire, was the crime scene of France’s most diabolical pederast and murderer, Lord Gilles de Rais. Genet claims his adoration for the countryside’s eponymous genets (a kind of flower endemic to Europe
also known as Spanish broom) compelled him to worship at their rhizomes while they, in turn, bowed to their human counterpart in a veritable miracle of the rose.

“They know that I am their living, moving, agile representative, conqueror of the wind,” he writes. “They are my natural emblem, but through them I have roots in that French soil which is fed by the powdered bones of the children and youths buggered, massacred, and burned by Gilles des Rais.”

This recurring trope, Genet’s "artifice of the flower" framed his every character and crime from the "spiky blossoms" of Darling Daintyfoot’s theft to the prostitute Divine’s "warm anal stele" to the "decorous pageantry" of Querelle’s murders. Flowers were, for Genet, a synecdoche for beatification growing rampant in the charnel house of absolute evil.

The figure of Steven Morrissey on the Smiths’ 1983 Top of the Pops debut had all of the Dionysian and homoerotic charge of Genet’s underworld flaneur. With his chiseled, Northern jaw line, coiffed pompadour, and back pocket overflowing with gladioli, Morrissey summoned, in his melodramatic rendition of "This Charming Man," the saintly icons of condemned playboys Weidmann and Pilorge who adorned Genet’s cell at Sante prison.

The lachrymose crooner achieved a similar macabre infamy, penning odes to the victims of the Moors Murders and using gay icons Joe Dallesandro and Terence Stamp on the Smiths’ album covers. During a 1986 "graveyard" photo session for the New Musical Express where he mused to a reporter, “I can stand in a graveyard for hours and hours, just inhaling the individuals. When they lived, when they died, it’s all inspiring,” he inspired a new generation to mourn the slaughter of the innocents.

Continue reading "Saint Steven Morrissey - comedien et martyr" »

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 12:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Why? Why? For those of us coming back slowly into consciousness after the big weekend, here's a little WTF crazy-catchy tune from Sweden's hottest latest "dance music" import (and, one hopes, most savvy performance artist), Gunther --- "Tutti Frutti Summer Love." I apologize beforehand for this, but it may be just the slap in the face you need to wake you up. At least in a "Is this a joke?!?" way.

Gunther will be in SF at Sound Factory on Saturday, Sept. 22 -- I just scored an interview with him, which will come out in the next Super Ego. What the heck should I ask him? And why are the Scandinavians fierce ruling right now (hello, Junior Senior)? Questions.

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Posted by Marke B. at 11:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This weekend's clubs and parties: It’s a classic case of B&T this Labor Day weekend. Not B&T as in bridge and tunnel -- although the fact that the BART’s open 24 hours while the Bay Bridge gets some fixin’ promises to flood the city with thankfully non-drunk driving revellers. (I myself plan to take advantage of this BART generosity by exploring some East Bay haunts I haven’t been able to visit in a while, like the White Horse Inn, the Ruby Room, and the Bench & Bar … look out Oaktown!)

Nope, it’s B&T as in bears and trannies, and a fab club called Trans Am (and more!). This week’s Super Ego column gave the lowdown on some of the events going on this week and next, here’s some more. Just for us.

**************************************************

**************************************************

Look out!

Continue reading "Freakend Alert! Wild bears, trannies ...." »

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yes, dears, I know Perez fricking Hilton posted this earlier today -- but the thing's gone so viral, my inbox has gotten overloaded from rabid, hyperintellectual fans! Plus, I use more exclamation points!!! So here I repost it for you (and for me -- I really can't stop watching it.) Plus it's kind of a personal triumph. It's, in a way, vindication. And isn't that what blogs are for? Self-obsessive revenge?

Meet the boys of Bearforce1:

Ta da!

The best part is that they're from The Netherlands! Hairy from Holland! Hottt!!! Exclamation points!!!

A little while ago I wrote a Super Ego column about how the new bear generation -- Bear 2.0 -- is more in touch with its feminine and techno dance sides. I got a lot of shit for it. But .... proof! Hot hairy holland pastel-shirted proof! Sweeeet.

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Posted by Marke B. at 04:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It’s gonna be one of those crazy too much weekends on the club-freak circuit again. Luckily, I’ll be chasing drag queen Jackie Beat’s voluminous tinfoil skirts and jamming to Morris Day and the Time at fab street fest Sunset Junction in LA -- somebody bring me a mirror! -- so I don’t have to choose. But for those not hoofin’ it to Silver Lake, here’s a few picks -- a l’il rundown on the run-up, as it were. Run around! Got a party I missed? Give it up. I’ll add more as the weekend approaches if poss. I’ve got a lot of makeup to do.

Oh, and if you haven’t seen Avenue Q yet, get yer ass down to the Orpheum Theatre, quick. As America’s premiere queer Arab American leather disco hip-hop muppet whore, I highly recommend the work of my fellow monsters (especially the Bad Idea Bears ! My people!).

Bad Idea Bears rule

I also wanna plug one of my fave haunts – Club 222, which has far too much good stuff going on all for me to remember. Stop by for a drink, dance all evening, wonder where the hell you are in the morning. Then tell me when you find out.

Now, on to the klubz:

Continue reading "Freekend alert! Glitterbox, Chrome, Dirtybird, more" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 02:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Help, I hate it, but I'm a slave to the forthcoming Girls Aloud single (Sept 3 release).

It's killing me. No official vid yet -- but here's the recordholders for most consecutive UK top 10s debuting the song at T4 on the Beach. I'll really regret pumping this when I can't escape this little ditty in the Castro this fall .....

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What the hell is happening to young Hollywood? Nicole’s maybe heading to jail (with a Good Charlotte bun in the oven); Paris was in the clink and out of the clink and back in the clink again; Britney’s on the threshold of a full-scale meltdown (and you thought the head-shaving thing was the worst it could get); and now LiLo – the only member of this skanky club that actually has discernable talent – is back in trouble with the law, recent rehab stint be damned.

What can we learn from Lohan’s troubles? In her hour of need, let’s turn to some of her finer song lyrics. Newly poignant meanings abound. Cries for help lurk between every rhyme. Who cares if she didn’t actually write ‘em all – she sang ‘em, man. Conjecture away!

Continue reading "The poetry of Lindsay Lohan" »

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Posted by Cheryl Eddy at 03:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

By Robert Bergin

Ghost Boobs, kids love 'em! Gravy Train!!!! strikes a munchy pose. Courtesy of nyc.metblogs.com.

Perhaps you’ve noticed a lot more bated breath among your neighbors. More expectant glances at calendars and watches, perhaps. Well, there's a logical explanation for all that anticipation. The Guardian's "Best of the Bay" issue drops next week.

But you can’t wait! You’ve gotta have those value judgments! In your hands! In your computer’s hands! In your brain! Now!

Enter the RIPs (Rejected Intern Pitches). I’d say something like, “Consider this an appetizer to next Wednesday’s main course,” but I think you and I both know this is just a silly blog post filled with random stuff. So on with the awards!

Best Band of All Fucking Time: Fall Out Boy, no duh. Or should I say…Fall Out BAY. Oooohhhh.

Best Shamelessly Hip Music Video that You Are Watching While Living in the Bay:

Best Initiation into Gravy Train!!!! culture:

I think I’m a little too much of a corn-fed heteronormative frat boy to truly appreciate this band. Not that I actively dislike them or anything: hypersex just isn’t really my thing. Still, even though I went to their Bottom of the Hill show a couple weeks ago mostly to check out the opener, Experimental Dental School, I thought it’d be interesting to bring along a companion that didn’t know anything about the headliner.

So I sent an e-mail to my fraternity’s listserve saying I had an extra ticket, and I get a response from a friend we’ll call Biff. Biff, in addition to having a heart of gold, fulfills a few of the requisite external qualities of your prototypical frat boy: sandals, muscles, a strong affinity for Sublime, et cetera. I told him it’d be fun and internally prepared myself for a night of awkward vibes and incredulously raised eyebrows.

Of course, we weren’t even there five minutes before I came back from the bathroom to find Biff slovenly making out with some girl in a velvet dress in the middle of an already sexed-up crowd. (I’m not sure what was better or worse, the instance itself or his shrugging explanation, “She didn’t even give me her name. She just said ‘I’m from LA.’”). Sleazy? Yeah, but what’s the point in turning your nose up at smutty thrillseekers? Fiery loins…just another thing Gravy Train!!!! and my fraternity have in common.

(Ed.: And if you're curious about that sexy GT, check out the cute animated video for "Burger Baby."

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Posted by Kimberly Chun at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The noses were small, the dresses were expensive, the Mayor was in attendance, and the music was sublime. Yep, I crashed the annual SF Symphony Opening Gala, chockful o' Zellerbachs, Wilseys, DuPonts and whomever else rich-like, and lived to blog all about it (despite being almost kicked out for yodeling during the singing of the National Anthem, ahem.)

"Pose for the Guardian? I've been in National Geographic, and I thought that was weird ..." (actual quote)

Continue reading "Gala Symphonix" »

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Posted by Marke B. at 03:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)