“Fuck technical difficulties — the show will go on,” wax wizard MIGUEL “Petalpusher” MIGS (pictured) assured the sweaty masses crowding the basement pool area at the HOLLYWOOD ATHLETIC CLUB, where the Naked Music label threw a four-to-the-floor hoo-hah to showcase its acts. Before Migs’ beleaguered set, heaving hipsters drowned themselves in the massive tidal waves of foamy conga-rich deep house grooves courtesy of GABRIEL “Aquanote” RENE. While one of the the event’s producers, KCRW’s JASON BENTLEY, kept a mostly low profile throughout the eve, counting heads and shaking hands when not spinning, co-promoter GLEN WALSH was beside himself that so many gay boyz attended. “It’s so fucking great to see more queers and black folks showing up at our parties,” said Walsh, who went on to note: “It’s that goddamn crystal that’s ruined gay culture’s taste in good dance music. I’m just so glad some of these queens are finally coming around.” Of course, Naked Music’s and underground clubdom’s reigning diva LISA SHAW singing live might have had something to do with the huge gay-boy turnout. After her backing CD kept skipping, Migs threw some instrumental vinyl on the turntables, and Shaw — not slipping into any drama-queen clichés — freestyled her way above the music to the dazzled delight of the crowd. Talk about your raw talent.
Breeding in Captivity
Going furry seems to be the sexual fetish du jour — an MTV doc, write-ups in Vanity Fair and Wired, and now an exhibit at LES DEUX CAFÉS. The display of anthropomorphic erotica — curated by filmmaker RICK CASTRO, resplendent in dainty black-leather cat ears and a long tail — had all manner of tarted-up animal drawings and digitally manipulated photos for the furries and stuffed animals aplenty for the plushies. Scenes from Castro’s doc Plushies & Furries played on one wall, and Meet the Feebles, Peter Jackson’s (yep, the Lord of the Rings director) tale of lust and betrayal between hippo and walrus, screened on a TV set. Work ranged from the luxe — HORSE MAESTRO’s colored drawings that looked like illustrations for a very naughty but chic children’s book — to the lewd. Photo-morph artist TONY “LEWD” LABADIE, that is. Like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle gone bad, Labadie schmoozed in a lifelike green lizard mask, leather pants, codpiece and space-age biker boots, talking to a camera crew in front of ROB CLARKE’s Poodle Boy series, gouaches of a half-naked Tom of Finland–esque man in poodle gear being pleasured (or humiliated) by a series of animals cute enough for Disney. Billed as the first furotica exhibition open to a mainstream audience, the show included a helpful glossary of Furry terms (gundie — a goth furry), but a look at the price list provided more insight: Small Plushies — $20. Large Plushies — $40. Soiled Plushies — $80. “They look like my cat got to them,” whispered one woman. “My cat’s really cute,” replied her friend, “cuter than those things.”
The Swing Set
A smarmy swagger, a bushy ’do and a mustache, sported in that ’70s porno-king style, still attracts the ladies, at least in a rehearsal-studio setting, as one member of THE SPIES thusly decked out discovered at the bang-up bash SWING HOUSE hosted to celebrate its move to a bigger building, near the Formosa. Maybe the gals believed the dapper dude was a rock star in disguise, as everyone from the Red Hot Chili Peppers to Iggy has honed their chops at S.H. Vodka-spiked Red Bull had some revelers acting like they had wings as they wandered through the cavernous space, which features four comfy rooms for rehearsing and recording and an outdoor patio. Producers extraordinaire GLEN BALLARD and DAVE JERDEN, club pooh-bahs APOLLO STARR and JOSEPH BROOKS (with NYC performer MICHAEL T.), actress OLIVIA BARASH, songstress JEN BEAST, guitar god DANNY SAGE, and Blest Boutique’s CHRISTINA CAREY were among the denizens of cool checking out the dreamy destructo-pop of RUN RUN RUN (featuring Club Makeup musical director XANDER SMITH), loud Limeys KING CHEETAH, soul sizzla TASHA TAYLOR, as well as installations by photographer/Bang promoter PIPER FERGUSON, artist/singer JOHNETTE NAPOLITANO and painter/T-shirt sensation LOUIS CANNIZZARO, who designed last year’s all-a-buzz “The night we kissed Drew Barrymore” tees. Most in this crowd probably wished they had!
Best Li'l Horror House
“Tonight we will see if our movie is a comedy — or a tragedy.” Director/writer TEMÍSTOCLES LÓPEZ brought the house down with his opening remarks at the first public screening of his new black satire, Home: The Horror Story, a no-holds-barred send-up of everything taboo that makes John Waters look like Martha Stewart. On hand at the sneak preview at Raleigh Studios’ CHAPLIN THEATER, and the after-party at trendy VERMONT were stars GRACE ZABRISKIE, who admitted shock at “how grotesque” she looked as the kooky nympho wife of RICHARD BEYMER (pictured from film) — remember him from West Side Story?; cutie SAM NELSON, son of Ricky, who plays a gay sailor, and sister TRACY NELSON, a hoot as his promiscuous onscreen sib (what would Ozzie and Harriet say?); ED WASSER chewing up the scenery as a neo-Nazi closet-rapist cop; and vet character actor MICKEY COTTRELL, who graciously accepted kudos for his deliciously manic portrayal of a pederast priest. Among the other attendees were JACQUELINE BISSET, longtime friend of Zabriskie and Lopez; producers SHALINI WARAN and DICK WEAVER; Obie-winning theater director DAVID SCHWEIZER; LACMA film curator IAN BIRNIE; director/producer DAN IRELAND; and legendary Hollywood director CURTIS HARRINGTON, who laughed the loudest at the film’s most grisly moments (but then, he did make Who Slew Auntie Roo?). “I think we managed to offend everybody,” noted Lopez. “So nobody should feel left out.”
—Mary Beth Crain