I left my heart in San Francisco.
I started writing this out a couple of times and realized that I sound like a pretentious twit 90% of the time, so I waited until I sounded like a human being instead. Works for you? Works for me. I have no sane inner voice these days.
Tuesday night Josh, Ashley and I went to Nashville for the most surreal night of our lives. We got to the venue just as the doors opened, and had really good spots three-deep from the stage. I always thought DJ Sammy Jo was a girl. I was wrong. A band called Small Sins did an opening set that amused me. They were all dressed in white - it was very sailor-like - and were... enthuasiastic about their craft. I think the only other band I've seen that was that enthusiastic about what they did is Langhorne Slim. Same enthusiasm, I swear it.
And then Ashley got sick toward the end of that set - she's been sick for two or three weeks now, got better and then got worse and got better and then finally got worse again at the most inopportune time. So we went and sat down in a corner until she felt better, and this is when a great revelation was laid upon us. And that great revelation was that we were the straightest, most normal homosexuals there. Boys in dresses, middle-aged men in skirts, old men in bedazzled pillowcases, teenage lesbians with their sugar mamas, forty year old queers in dress shirts and Dockers looking like they'd spent their whole lives at home massaging their mama's feet and working at an accounting firm. Maybe they have.
When Ashley started feeling better, we went and stood near where we had started out; about five-deep back from where we originally were, close to the bathroom in case Ashley felt sick again, and less crowded (at least until the show started). Good spot, actually, especially if you're 6'5" (like Josh) or standing behind short gay boys (like Ashley). I had to shift around some, but it was fine once the show started.
What a surreal experience. It was like every queer in Nashville had suddenly gathered together to pray at Our Lady of American-Ignored Genre-Defiance and by God they weren't leaving the conclave until a new pope of dance was elected. You didn't worry about looking stupid when you danced because every other person around you was looking equally as stupid as they danced their asses off. And asses were danced off. When we left we were covered in sweat, feeling like we'd lost twenty pounds and toned our lower bodies with a drill sergeant for a trainer. I suddenly knew what it must have felt like to spend all night at Babylon - with Josh in the role of Ted, Ashley as always our group Michael, and yours truly as Brian Kinney. Surreal.
Other than the sheer awesomeness that is Scissor Sisters, the best part was when during "Land Of a Thousand Words" this cute kid - probably no older than 18, appeared to be there with his BFF or his sister - who had appeared starstruck through the whole show was asked to dance by an older guy, probably mid-thirties, and he looked like he'd won the lottery and been elected president on a liberal ticket all in the same day as they twirled around. Precious.
On the way home a fog descended over a 110-mile stretch, and that was most of the way home, let me assure you. It was so bad that the occasional red light would pop up and it would scare the shit out of the three of us. Ever the bullshitter storyteller, at some point I started to think about the book Dreamcatcher - I tried to remember if it there were fog situations or snowstorms in that book, but all I could think about was shit weasels. Then I remembered that Stephen King also wrote this story called "The Mist" that had something to do with a grocery store, an army base, and tentacles. As it was past 2 AM and I could not see a fucking thing in the fog, the tentacle jokes went over well. Also, there were jokes in route to the show about cobbler, but I think Ashley might beat me if I repeat them, as they were all at her expense.
I guess that sums it up. You'd have to have been there to comprehend how great it was; even I can't explain it right. The only thing I have to say is that Jesus sent Ana Matronic down to earth solely for my entertainment. She can do no wrong.
Anyway, setlist.
Take Your Mama
I Can't Decide
Tits on the Radio
She's My Man
Laura
Lights
Paul McCartney
Kiss You Off
Everybody Wants the Same Thing
Mary
Comfortably Numb
Music Is the Victim
Land of a Thousand Words
Encore
I Don't Feel Like Dancin'
Filthy/Gorgeous
Tuesday night Josh, Ashley and I went to Nashville for the most surreal night of our lives. We got to the venue just as the doors opened, and had really good spots three-deep from the stage. I always thought DJ Sammy Jo was a girl. I was wrong. A band called Small Sins did an opening set that amused me. They were all dressed in white - it was very sailor-like - and were... enthuasiastic about their craft. I think the only other band I've seen that was that enthusiastic about what they did is Langhorne Slim. Same enthusiasm, I swear it.
And then Ashley got sick toward the end of that set - she's been sick for two or three weeks now, got better and then got worse and got better and then finally got worse again at the most inopportune time. So we went and sat down in a corner until she felt better, and this is when a great revelation was laid upon us. And that great revelation was that we were the straightest, most normal homosexuals there. Boys in dresses, middle-aged men in skirts, old men in bedazzled pillowcases, teenage lesbians with their sugar mamas, forty year old queers in dress shirts and Dockers looking like they'd spent their whole lives at home massaging their mama's feet and working at an accounting firm. Maybe they have.
When Ashley started feeling better, we went and stood near where we had started out; about five-deep back from where we originally were, close to the bathroom in case Ashley felt sick again, and less crowded (at least until the show started). Good spot, actually, especially if you're 6'5" (like Josh) or standing behind short gay boys (like Ashley). I had to shift around some, but it was fine once the show started.
What a surreal experience. It was like every queer in Nashville had suddenly gathered together to pray at Our Lady of American-Ignored Genre-Defiance and by God they weren't leaving the conclave until a new pope of dance was elected. You didn't worry about looking stupid when you danced because every other person around you was looking equally as stupid as they danced their asses off. And asses were danced off. When we left we were covered in sweat, feeling like we'd lost twenty pounds and toned our lower bodies with a drill sergeant for a trainer. I suddenly knew what it must have felt like to spend all night at Babylon - with Josh in the role of Ted, Ashley as always our group Michael, and yours truly as Brian Kinney. Surreal.
Other than the sheer awesomeness that is Scissor Sisters, the best part was when during "Land Of a Thousand Words" this cute kid - probably no older than 18, appeared to be there with his BFF or his sister - who had appeared starstruck through the whole show was asked to dance by an older guy, probably mid-thirties, and he looked like he'd won the lottery and been elected president on a liberal ticket all in the same day as they twirled around. Precious.
On the way home a fog descended over a 110-mile stretch, and that was most of the way home, let me assure you. It was so bad that the occasional red light would pop up and it would scare the shit out of the three of us. Ever the bullshitter storyteller, at some point I started to think about the book Dreamcatcher - I tried to remember if it there were fog situations or snowstorms in that book, but all I could think about was shit weasels. Then I remembered that Stephen King also wrote this story called "The Mist" that had something to do with a grocery store, an army base, and tentacles. As it was past 2 AM and I could not see a fucking thing in the fog, the tentacle jokes went over well. Also, there were jokes in route to the show about cobbler, but I think Ashley might beat me if I repeat them, as they were all at her expense.
I guess that sums it up. You'd have to have been there to comprehend how great it was; even I can't explain it right. The only thing I have to say is that Jesus sent Ana Matronic down to earth solely for my entertainment. She can do no wrong.
Anyway, setlist.
Take Your Mama
I Can't Decide
Tits on the Radio
She's My Man
Laura
Lights
Paul McCartney
Kiss You Off
Everybody Wants the Same Thing
Mary
Comfortably Numb
Music Is the Victim
Land of a Thousand Words
Encore
I Don't Feel Like Dancin'
Filthy/Gorgeous