More Pride month queer pop. Another mp3 collection: Johnnie Ray: High Drama, Live in London; Justin Paige: Justin; Rough Trade: Avoid Freud, O Tempura; Pink Flamingos: Soundtrack; Pansy Division: More Lovin’ From Our Oven, Total Entertainment; Huggy Bear: Taking the Rough With The Smooch; QBoy: Moxie
A panorama of history starting with Johnnie Ray: an early 50’s crooner on his way to the top thanks to Cry – nearly huge till he was caught in a washroom with the wrong man & his career was ruined. A sad story that deserves a movie soon. The music is standard & listenable.
Justin Paige – is a Toronto performer I know nothing about. With songs that mention the Parkside, talk about Kay Y Kuties & Tea Room Tramps we are in full out mode here – I bought this Lp in early 80’s & was thrilled with it. A bar-room rocker in Joe Cocker style he was doomed – gays want to dance & not be teased about being a ‘Steam Queen.’ If anyone knows more about Justin get in touch.
Rough Trade – icons of the first order – I remember hearing High School Confidential the first time – I played the Lp grey & bought another copy. Carol Pope ruled. She even performed a show with Divine – who appears on the cover the Pink Flamingos soundtrack – a movie I remember fondly.
Pansy Division brought a whole new energy to queer pop with their vibrant, fun & out there songs. From ‘I’m Gonna Be A Slut’ they make no bones about being queer guys who like queer guys. Power pop of the first order with humor, emotion & romance.
Huggy Bear is queer art rock, experimental and fun. QBoy is electonica dance music – high energy, socially aware & beautifully produced, but lacking, shall we say identity – it could be any electronica guy but with a bit more queer content.
I held my hand under the shower head. Warm, close to the hot I enjoyed. I heard a faint burr over the gush of water. Telephone. A sound I couldn’t ignore once I’d heard it , it was the call of the telephone’s demand to be answered. I just hoped it wasn’t Dan ducking out on dinner, again.
“May ah shpeak to Fazadi?” A confident male voice asked.
Nuts! I hated that. Bad enough the phone would ring while I tried to get ready for my date but it had to be a wrong number.
“I’m sorry you’ve reached the wrong number.” I never did understand why I had to apologize when someone else made the mistake.
“Such is whrong numba?” Came through the receiver followed by a rapid slur of anxious words I didn’t understand.
I repeated slower, “You have reached the incorrect number. There is no Fraladi at this number.’
‘“I lokshin for Fazadi not Fraladi. Fazadi is there. No?” He sounded less confident.
“No. There is no Fazadi here. You have … what number are you trying to reach.” I could hear my shower. All that hot water down the drain.
“Seize none fie sixe fo fo none.” The man on the other end of the line said rapidly.
I didn’t understand what he said but I didn’t want to confuse him even more or have him feel I was making fun of him by having him repeat the numbers.
“That is not this number. I have to go now.” Why did I feel like directory assistance? I was even using that slightly pleasant tone they used. “Please hang up and try your call again.”
“Wait! Wait sirrah. Pleasche you tell mes right numba?” There was genuine panic in his voice.
“You have the right number but you must have dialed it wrong.” I looked around for something to pull over me, as if my not being nude would help me help him.
‘Dhialled? You men I pooshh boottons.”
“Right. You pushed the wrong buttons. Try again.”
“You heelp me. Pleasche I not shure now if I do right.”
Help? How could I help this man? All I could hear was the crawl of street traffic behind him and my hot water heater empty.
“Try the operator. Just push zero and someone will help you. Good bye.”
I hung up before he could reply, got into the shower where I ignored phone as it started to ring again.
Nuts! Cold water.