And now, a guest review from SFScene pal and special field correspondant Kitty:
Let's just get one thing out of the way. How long has 1015 had the monopoly on big club parties in SF? Quite a few years now. So why is it that 1015 acts like they just opened last week?
Why am I there (even though I do now and always have hated this particular club)? Because it's New Year's day and DJ Phil B is having Mass for the first time in years. Back at the cusp of the new millennium (when we still had some hope for the future), Mass was the Sunday evening t-dance that provided the perfect progressive house ending to a weekend of big gay parties. Big music. Big lights. Big fun.
This party at this place has special meaning for me. It's the scene of one of my few transcendent experiences in the gay party scene. Those moments of joy and connection when the people/place/music burn themselves into your brain. You know... that Zen singularity that we all spend our time, money and brain cells trying (and often failing) to achieve.
I've grown up enough to know that I can't get that experience back again. But I'll definitely pay $20 for the chance at getting groovy on New Year's Day. And I was willing to bet that there were plenty of other guys thinking the same thing.
Ticket in hand, I arrived at 1015 at 6:30 pm. That's when the complete ineptitude of the club's door personnel smacked me in the face. There were two lines to get in, but the majority of patrons were forced to wait in a line that snaked around three sides of the building. Why? The second line was only for those possessing a shiny, Wonka-like golden VIP ticket.
Needless to say, those of us who had purchased regular tickets before the party were pissed about standing in the wet cold for up to 20 minutes or more. My only source of amusement during that wait was watching other partygoers arrive and scramble dejectedly for a place in the ever-increasing line. Sometimes schadenfreude is my only joy.
Poor planning created the misery of a line, but douche-baggery was salt-in-the-wound. The lone security dude checking IDs insisted on asking each guest how their evening was going. He would not be satisfied by a tepid "fine" or "good" from cold, trembling patrons in tight t-shirts. In fact, if such bland vocabulary was used, he pulled the yearning patron out of line until they could come up with something more creative. I pitied those frozen souls with poor verbal education.
When my time came, I held back the scathing reply that had been boiling inside of me for the past 10 minutes. It had accumulated variously heated particles of speech over that time until becoming a mass of molten anger. And I really did want to say it to him. Oh how I yearned for it. But my voice of reason firmly insisted this would not be the way to gain quick entry to the club. So I piped out a half-hearted "fan-fucking-tastic" and was on my way.
Next step in the process is checking my coat. In other words, waiting in another pointlessly long line. But I did have the opportunity to observe a scene that made my night. A loud, braying queen standing behind me called out to his fag-hag that "there are children!" Sure enough, a shockingly respectable family was coming out of the downstairs bar.
After he made a spectacle of himself trashing the harmless straights, the family picked their way up the crowded staircase led by a darkly handsome guy, his arms protectively draped around two young girls. As they passed the shade-throwing sister, a voice called from the crowd, "Gus! I didn't know you had kids!?"
The man with the girls (now revealed to be Gus of Guspresents, the promoter of this party) shouted back, "Ha! These are my nieces. Today was my birthday!"
As a loud mouthed fag who regularly puts his foot in it, I felt really bad for that big-mouthed queen in line behind me. (But maybe not that badly.)
The party itself got off to a fun, energetic, and friendly start. The Gus's nieces danced and got onstage with the flaggers. Every gay man that they passed was smitten with them.
After a few drinks I was in a good mood and dancing on the edges of a packed floor. Even at that distance, the heat of the shirtless, sweating crowd made my skin flush and tingle. Phil B began his 6-hour set with some standard gay house shakers. Good stuff, but not particularly inspiring. Particularly the full-on diva house cover of Pink's "Better Get This Party Started."
But with each song, Phil B brought up the tempo. And as the beats picked up, the songs got harder. Somewhere about halfway through the evening, he's spinning progressive house so powerful it's bordering on Trance. Just what I like.
After another hour or so of moving on the floor, around the floor and through the floor I just couldn't move any more. The club was now completely filled with boys and girls, men and women having a great time. I love that feeling of euphoria that comes from almost everyone I pass. Bit I am also very tired of tripping over and stepping on people.
Billed as a "Reunion" dance, strangely I did not see anyone I had known from those days of going to Mass. But I did have a good time without having it torpedoed by the neurotic hang-ups that haunted my back then. Maybe not "fan-fucking-tastic," but still a good time.
Showing posts with label Kitty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kitty. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, April 30, 2007
Event Review: Refuge at The Transfer
Refuge, put together by Fil Latorre and DJ Javaight aka the Staple crew, featuring Jeno, was a great exploration of "future house and deep techno," though the union of this music with the space of The Transfer bar was less than ideal.
It's always a good sign when you hear two different DJs at the same party play tracks you own, serving as it does as confirmation of your own good taste and that you are indeed in the presence of like-minded individuals. When DJ Javaight laid down Kiki's "Trust Me," and then Jeno later played "You Got Good Ash" by Marek Bois, I had one of those brief moments of feeling not only in synch with what was around me, but that something I had been following for a long time was finally being taken up by others; for the Staple crew I think this would be described in terms of "deepness," a more thoughtful, almost hypnotic approach to techno and tech house that features very smooth mixes and blends between tracks. As much as I love the Kontrol DJs I've always felt that they had something of a tendency toward squonk for squonk's sake, and as they moved on to The EndUp their sound has taken on more of a traditional house sound. In the tracks that Javaight and Fil Latorre laid down you can still hear the house throb, but there were also harder, darker elements that experiment with more artificial, trance-like sonic textures, as well as the occasional saw-tooth bassline, that move you away from the at times almost sacchrine, sleep-inducing feeling of pure deep house.
Unfortunately, The Transfer did not turn out to be the place to really appreciate this music. I arrived with the boyfriend, Kitty, and our friend J around 10 PM, and at that time there was a good crowd around the bar, but the only other place to sit and chill was either on a poorly placed sofa below the windows (where, everytime you tried to lean back, you knocked your noggin on the drink shelf), or back behind the pool table. We settled in and tried to make ourselves comfortable while awaiting for the crowd to arrive, but that never really happened. I would have expected that with Jeno on the bill there would have been a big crowd, and while some dedicated house heads did come through the doors later, most of the action was confined to the bar area. The beats were good enough to get your hips moving, but they didn't even move the pool table out of the way until 11.30, so no real dance energy ever materialized. Even worse, for a supposed gay bar, the crowd was almost entirely straight. I'm not sure what it takes to get gay men out of their musical ghetto, but evidently you can put good music in a cheap, convenient location that's well-known and it's still not enough to keep them from rehashing the same stuff that's been served to them for the past twenty years.
The Staple crew is moving on from The Transfer with their next two events, Sabotage at Anu on the 10th of May, and then a party with Kenny Larkin at the RxGallery on May 11. I'll personally be anxious to see how they carry through with their sonic explorations in a space, and with a crowd, that is more attuned to their vibe.
It's always a good sign when you hear two different DJs at the same party play tracks you own, serving as it does as confirmation of your own good taste and that you are indeed in the presence of like-minded individuals. When DJ Javaight laid down Kiki's "Trust Me," and then Jeno later played "You Got Good Ash" by Marek Bois, I had one of those brief moments of feeling not only in synch with what was around me, but that something I had been following for a long time was finally being taken up by others; for the Staple crew I think this would be described in terms of "deepness," a more thoughtful, almost hypnotic approach to techno and tech house that features very smooth mixes and blends between tracks. As much as I love the Kontrol DJs I've always felt that they had something of a tendency toward squonk for squonk's sake, and as they moved on to The EndUp their sound has taken on more of a traditional house sound. In the tracks that Javaight and Fil Latorre laid down you can still hear the house throb, but there were also harder, darker elements that experiment with more artificial, trance-like sonic textures, as well as the occasional saw-tooth bassline, that move you away from the at times almost sacchrine, sleep-inducing feeling of pure deep house.
Unfortunately, The Transfer did not turn out to be the place to really appreciate this music. I arrived with the boyfriend, Kitty, and our friend J around 10 PM, and at that time there was a good crowd around the bar, but the only other place to sit and chill was either on a poorly placed sofa below the windows (where, everytime you tried to lean back, you knocked your noggin on the drink shelf), or back behind the pool table. We settled in and tried to make ourselves comfortable while awaiting for the crowd to arrive, but that never really happened. I would have expected that with Jeno on the bill there would have been a big crowd, and while some dedicated house heads did come through the doors later, most of the action was confined to the bar area. The beats were good enough to get your hips moving, but they didn't even move the pool table out of the way until 11.30, so no real dance energy ever materialized. Even worse, for a supposed gay bar, the crowd was almost entirely straight. I'm not sure what it takes to get gay men out of their musical ghetto, but evidently you can put good music in a cheap, convenient location that's well-known and it's still not enough to keep them from rehashing the same stuff that's been served to them for the past twenty years.
The Staple crew is moving on from The Transfer with their next two events, Sabotage at Anu on the 10th of May, and then a party with Kenny Larkin at the RxGallery on May 11. I'll personally be anxious to see how they carry through with their sonic explorations in a space, and with a crowd, that is more attuned to their vibe.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Event Review: Activate! with Alland Byallo and Nikola Baytala at Deco Lounge
December 31, 2007 Update: I received a friendly email from Mr. Baytala this week letting me know that, though he was on the bill as one of the DJs for this event, he in fact didn't make it and the person we heard was his substitute. Sorry about that Nikola, and if anyone else out there ever has any factual corrections for DJ names and such, please feel free to send them in.
After three evenings of running the party circuit, the boyfriend and I were a bit weary when we rolled into Deco on Saturday night with our friend Kitty in tow. We were lured out by the promise of hearing one of our favorite Kontrol DJs in the super comfort of Deco Lounge, and though the music was good, we never quite found our stride.
I'm not sure how the Kontrol kids came to hold a party at Deco, which is far more gay than their crowd usually strikes me as being into. I found out that Gun Club, which does underground electrotechno events, apparently counts Deco as homebase, and I assume that it was through their sponsorship that the boys were brought into this space. The entire event was for the pirate radio station WAR 97.3, which seems to be broadcasting out of the Western Addition.
Alland was on first, and though I like the more aggressive, knarzy sound he puts out, it was way too loud and painful in that small room for me to enjoy it. Later in the evening, as more bodies were able to absorb the high-end snap, it got better, but I still noticed that there was a force-field around the DJ booth into which very few people seemed willing to pass. There were a few moments when I thought that the sonic aggression was too much for early in the evening, but the best sign was when the bartender, who has certainly heard his share of gay dance music, told me how much he was enjoying Alland's selections.
We got up and danced for a bit, but the boyfriend thought that, as it grew more crowded, the dancefloor also became more "rude;" as he later put it, "if one more bitch in hoop earrings hits me with her elbows, I'm going to scream." I found it difficult to raise much energy in general, and spent most of my time simply surveying the crowd. They were younger, generally dressed in black, and I suspected that they were there as much for 97.3 as for Kontrol (though the boys do have a show there on 2nd Mondays at 9PM).
After Alland, Nikola Baytala came on with a set of housey/space-disco tracks that seemed like they would have played better at an earlier hour than they did after Alland's harder excursions. The boyfriend didn't care for his his mixing, and while it sounded beat matched to me, it also did sound like there were some distinct transitions between tracks that weren't compoitionally as well matched. I honestly didn't have much opinion at this point, though, since my fourth drink after three nights of clubbing had made me essentially insensate.
We went out for a smoke and chatted with Alland, who told us about some great upcoming events (including one at the Porn Palace!); related a story about a certain DJ of his acquaintance involving a Halloween party at the Porn Palace and a ball-gag that became the weekend's sole costume; and talked about the kind of changes that come up when you move into the bigger club venues after having been underground for a while. There was also a bit of dish about another group that produces techno parties that confirmed some suspicions of mine based on their flyer art and general demeanor. It was nice opportunity to chat, though I wish I had been a bit more mentally engaged at the time.
We split out around 1.30, before Broker/Dealer's set. It was an okay night out, with good music, though next time I think I need to pay more attention to that internal regulating mechanism called exhaustion before venturing out yet again for another party. At the very least, it'll help me write a better review on the Monday following.
After three evenings of running the party circuit, the boyfriend and I were a bit weary when we rolled into Deco on Saturday night with our friend Kitty in tow. We were lured out by the promise of hearing one of our favorite Kontrol DJs in the super comfort of Deco Lounge, and though the music was good, we never quite found our stride.
I'm not sure how the Kontrol kids came to hold a party at Deco, which is far more gay than their crowd usually strikes me as being into. I found out that Gun Club, which does underground electrotechno events, apparently counts Deco as homebase, and I assume that it was through their sponsorship that the boys were brought into this space. The entire event was for the pirate radio station WAR 97.3, which seems to be broadcasting out of the Western Addition.
Alland was on first, and though I like the more aggressive, knarzy sound he puts out, it was way too loud and painful in that small room for me to enjoy it. Later in the evening, as more bodies were able to absorb the high-end snap, it got better, but I still noticed that there was a force-field around the DJ booth into which very few people seemed willing to pass. There were a few moments when I thought that the sonic aggression was too much for early in the evening, but the best sign was when the bartender, who has certainly heard his share of gay dance music, told me how much he was enjoying Alland's selections.
We got up and danced for a bit, but the boyfriend thought that, as it grew more crowded, the dancefloor also became more "rude;" as he later put it, "if one more bitch in hoop earrings hits me with her elbows, I'm going to scream." I found it difficult to raise much energy in general, and spent most of my time simply surveying the crowd. They were younger, generally dressed in black, and I suspected that they were there as much for 97.3 as for Kontrol (though the boys do have a show there on 2nd Mondays at 9PM).
After Alland, Nikola Baytala came on with a set of housey/space-disco tracks that seemed like they would have played better at an earlier hour than they did after Alland's harder excursions. The boyfriend didn't care for his his mixing, and while it sounded beat matched to me, it also did sound like there were some distinct transitions between tracks that weren't compoitionally as well matched. I honestly didn't have much opinion at this point, though, since my fourth drink after three nights of clubbing had made me essentially insensate.
We went out for a smoke and chatted with Alland, who told us about some great upcoming events (including one at the Porn Palace!); related a story about a certain DJ of his acquaintance involving a Halloween party at the Porn Palace and a ball-gag that became the weekend's sole costume; and talked about the kind of changes that come up when you move into the bigger club venues after having been underground for a while. There was also a bit of dish about another group that produces techno parties that confirmed some suspicions of mine based on their flyer art and general demeanor. It was nice opportunity to chat, though I wish I had been a bit more mentally engaged at the time.
We split out around 1.30, before Broker/Dealer's set. It was an okay night out, with good music, though next time I think I need to pay more attention to that internal regulating mechanism called exhaustion before venturing out yet again for another party. At the very least, it'll help me write a better review on the Monday following.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Knocked Up at Drunk and Horny
Last night I had the pleasure of attending a swell cocktail party/photo shoot at the home of Mssrs. Jeff and Gary in the Haight. The photos will be for upcoming Drunk and Horny flyers, and all I can say is naked boiz + a basketball = Demi Moore. Cogitate on that for a while.
The whole Drunk and Horny crew was there, including Mauricio and Chris, the very cute coat check and front door boys (though Chris' date had an 11PM curfew, oh my!), Lord Kook (who had so much fun that he fell off an ottoman while sitting down), and many of the other associated swingers such as myself and Kitty. It was great fun to hang out with everyone in a space that wasn't so crowded and loud as Underground SF, and Jeff and Gary were immaculate hosts. Best moment of the evening: seeing a photo of Gary from the '93 March on Washington in which he was holding up a "Lesbian Rights NOW" sign. Yes Gary, you are my favorite lesbian.
The whole Drunk and Horny crew was there, including Mauricio and Chris, the very cute coat check and front door boys (though Chris' date had an 11PM curfew, oh my!), Lord Kook (who had so much fun that he fell off an ottoman while sitting down), and many of the other associated swingers such as myself and Kitty. It was great fun to hang out with everyone in a space that wasn't so crowded and loud as Underground SF, and Jeff and Gary were immaculate hosts. Best moment of the evening: seeing a photo of Gary from the '93 March on Washington in which he was holding up a "Lesbian Rights NOW" sign. Yes Gary, you are my favorite lesbian.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Ducal Doin's: Mr. Royal Bunny is Crowned
The Royal Mr. Bunny contest concluded yesterday at Café Flore with a large number of Sisters, bunnies, trannies, and general kooky people in attendance. The event started at 4.00, just as things were winding down at Dolores Park, so many Sisters made their way up to their unofficial Castro hangout. I was there mainly to support Kitty, who has been selling raffle tickets as best he could over the past several weeks. Going in we knew that Mr. SPCA, aka Oliver, would probably beat him, since he was raising money for the same organization he worked for, but I had it from the Duke himself that Kitty would get recognition for his efforts. And, indeed, he was named Royal Baby Bunny Boy, given a lovely framed certificate, a pair of blue bunny ears decorated by the Duke, and a blue bunny plushie. Though Kitty told me he was in the contest primarily to support the Duke and to get himself more involved with community work, I still know that he appreciated the recognition and was very happy to receive it. That he lost out to someone wearing a pastel blue muscle shirt with “Celine Dion” printed on the front was thus a little easier to take. When everything was tallied up the various Mr. and Miss Bunny contestants raised over $2900 for the SPCA's Hearing Dogs for the Deaf program, completely selling out all the raffle tickets and breaking the previous fundraising efforts.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Ducal Doin's: The Mr. Bunny Contest Rages On!
The contest for Mr. and Miss Bunny continued on Sunday at the Cinch, where Diamond Disco Duke Brian Busta convened his court once again for an Easter Basket auction to benefit the SPCA’s hearing dogs for the deaf. This time there was extra fun in the form of Gotcha, a shepherd mix dog who demonstrated for the crowd all the neat things she has been trained to do, like picking up keys when they get dropped, or making sure her companion knows that the phone is ringing.
The Cinch up on Polkstrasse was a great venue that brought out such luminaries as Miss Anna Conda and, making command performances, Juanita Fajita and Frieda Laye. In between performances various Easter baskets were auctioned off, and yours truly, feeling inspired by Gotcha and disinhibited by three of the strongest drinks I’ve had at a bar in a long time, walked off with two of them, including one that came with a painting created by the Duke hisself. The Mr. and Miss Bunny contestants, meanwhile, continued to sell raffle tickets in an attempt to boost their standings in said contest. And here’s where I’ve a bone to pick with the workings of the Ducal court.
So here’s the deal: contestants actually pay for the books of raffle tickets they sell, so essentially what happens is that if they have enough money of their own, they can buy the tickets straight out and don’t really need to worry about the re-sale. But my good friend Kitty, who is competing against Mr. SPCA whom I mentioned in the last Ducal post, is an underemployed graphic designer who is doing all he can right now to pay his rent and meet his other financial obligations. He got into the contest because of his personal friendship with the Duke, whom he wanted to help out, and because he wanted to do some community service work. Mr. SPCA, on the other hand, is fully employed and, no doubt, has plenty of friends with money as well. As I pointed out in my last post, there seems to be some conflict of interest with him competing in this contest when it’s being used to raise money for the non-profit that he works for, but I’m more concerned that this whole court business devolves, eventually, into classist system that favors people who have money, and move in moneyed circles, rather than people who are there because they want to do something for their community. I certainly hope that the final decision will be based on something other than just fundraising. I’m sure Mr. SPCA is a nice guy, and I will refrain from catty comments about things like hair coloring and how only Polk Street hustlers walk around with the middle button of their jeans undone, but I think the cards are being stacked in an unfair way against Kitty. The crowning will take place on Easter Sunday at Café Flore, so we’ll see how it all works out by then,
The Cinch up on Polkstrasse was a great venue that brought out such luminaries as Miss Anna Conda and, making command performances, Juanita Fajita and Frieda Laye. In between performances various Easter baskets were auctioned off, and yours truly, feeling inspired by Gotcha and disinhibited by three of the strongest drinks I’ve had at a bar in a long time, walked off with two of them, including one that came with a painting created by the Duke hisself. The Mr. and Miss Bunny contestants, meanwhile, continued to sell raffle tickets in an attempt to boost their standings in said contest. And here’s where I’ve a bone to pick with the workings of the Ducal court.
So here’s the deal: contestants actually pay for the books of raffle tickets they sell, so essentially what happens is that if they have enough money of their own, they can buy the tickets straight out and don’t really need to worry about the re-sale. But my good friend Kitty, who is competing against Mr. SPCA whom I mentioned in the last Ducal post, is an underemployed graphic designer who is doing all he can right now to pay his rent and meet his other financial obligations. He got into the contest because of his personal friendship with the Duke, whom he wanted to help out, and because he wanted to do some community service work. Mr. SPCA, on the other hand, is fully employed and, no doubt, has plenty of friends with money as well. As I pointed out in my last post, there seems to be some conflict of interest with him competing in this contest when it’s being used to raise money for the non-profit that he works for, but I’m more concerned that this whole court business devolves, eventually, into classist system that favors people who have money, and move in moneyed circles, rather than people who are there because they want to do something for their community. I certainly hope that the final decision will be based on something other than just fundraising. I’m sure Mr. SPCA is a nice guy, and I will refrain from catty comments about things like hair coloring and how only Polk Street hustlers walk around with the middle button of their jeans undone, but I think the cards are being stacked in an unfair way against Kitty. The crowning will take place on Easter Sunday at Café Flore, so we’ll see how it all works out by then,
Monday, March 19, 2007
Ducal Doin's: Mr. and Ms. Bunny
Among my many social acquaintances I count some San Francisco nobility, the Diamond Disco Duke Brian Busta of the San Francisco Ducal Court. The Duke's main activity is fundraising, and on this past Sunday the Duke gathered together his court at Marlena's, in Hayes Valley, to begin a fundraising effort for the SPCA which will be spearheaded by the contestants vying for the title of Mr. and Miss Bunny. Here's the deal: they sell raffle tickets (for actually good prizes, I'm working it for that 5.1 surround system and DVD player), and whoever sells the most and smiles a lot wins the title. My friend Kitty decided to go out for it since the Duke actually asked him to do it, only to find himself up against a guy from the SPCA who, by virtue of being part of the group that the fundraising is being undertaken for, should probably bow out, ya know? Along with the raffle selling and drink swilling, there were also the inevitable drag performances, including one each from the inimitable Juanita Fajita and Frieda Laye. This will culminate on Easter Sunday with the bestowing of the royal ears upon the royal bunny, so I'll keep you up-to-date on our Kitty's progress toward becoming a bunny.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)