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.