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I know my burleque review posts read like ad copy. Well, I can't help it, I only write them when I'm impresed enough to type stuff after getting home at 4 a.m., instead of flopping into bed.
Last night was Original Cyn Burlesque. I hadn't been in about 2 months, and I really needed to get out. My sweet and lovely friend Victoria joined me gave a definitely positive multiplier to the awesome.
The show was on fire from, quite literally, the first notes The show was on fire from, quite literally, the first notes of Mary Cyn's opening act. Totally bypassing the thinking part of my briain, they reached into my upper spinal column, and from the preverbal soup therein elicited a cry of, "Oh, FUCK yeah!" before I was conscious of it being... "Dig up Her Bones"!
Forget for the moment that Ms. Cyn deservedly bears the title "The Best Ass in Burlesque." Forget the dead-girl-in fishnets look she was sporting*. Forget that she is basically a living jello shot of sex. DIG UP HER fucking BONES! (Yes, yes, I know... it is to post-Danzig Misfits as "Smoke on the Water" is to Deep Purple. So what? Where do you EVER hear it without trying to?!)
Ms. Cyn has done this to me once before. A few months ago, she stepped out -- again on the bar, maybe there's a pattern here -- as the first notes reached into my brain and saying, "Here comes the goods!" pulled out an "Oh, FUCK yeah!" before I was even conscious it was Alice Cooper's "You're My Temptation." (Again, where do you hear that? Other than my apartment, which most of you have never been in?)
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She won't get me a third time: I have officially dropped all assumption of limits to her Powers of Awesome.
Magdalena Fox. I don't know what this woman's been doing, but this makes twice in a row that I've seen her after she apparently took a level in Baddass. She was never unimpressive, but now I swear that she's some kind of cyborg, and keeps getting piston upgrades about the hips and abs. (She sported a pair of new tattoos since last I saw her, as well -- maybe these are the source of her power.) this is all ignoring the fuckyeahness of her Sandman act (Gaiman meets Metallica FTW!) -- I'll never look at Morpheus the same way again.
Which, in combination with Misfits, prompts me to pimp this:
(Okay, that was totally gratuitous. Danzig wasn't even in the Misfits for Dig up Her Bones. I just <3 that video.)
Victoria Privates' tribute to Silent Hill was... Creepy. Funny. And creepy. Even while I was looking at the rubber bands on the rubber mask from two feet away, it was creepy. That takes some doing.
Apathy Angel. I distinctly remember, the first time I saw this woman perform, quipping to Ms. Cyn, "She's like a cat and a snake had a baby." I stand by this. (In fact, the last time I saw her perform, she did so, very effectively, as a cat.) One of my all-time favorite gogo artists.
Ms. Cyn closed, as always. Trademark campy commentary on the state of mass horror entertainment. (It was a little like watching an actual teen horror movie, only actually funny, with more and better skin, and costing 2 hours and $12.50 less.)
As usual, the host gets rearward mention, on the basis of having an offensive lack of boobs. But the Reverend Burke Heffner was part of the brilliance. I'd never seen him perform before -- I've always happened to missed his shows until now; ever again. I can't find words to explain his act without it sounding lame -- because he takes the sort of thing many have done unimpressively, and infuses it with genius. Well worth the wait.
Bonus, I won the raffle. Double bonus, I effectively won everything -- the previous winner took the cookies and flogger option, but shared the cookies nd I already won a flogger last April. Which left me with a ticket for Hotsy Totsy Burlesque and Shaffer the Darklord's Manslaughterer CD, which I'm going to pop into the drive in about 90 seconds and listen to repeatedly for the next 4 days.
* No necro.
Last night was Original Cyn Burlesque. I hadn't been in about 2 months, and I really needed to get out. My sweet and lovely friend Victoria joined me gave a definitely positive multiplier to the awesome.
The show was on fire from, quite literally, the first notes The show was on fire from, quite literally, the first notes of Mary Cyn's opening act. Totally bypassing the thinking part of my briain, they reached into my upper spinal column, and from the preverbal soup therein elicited a cry of, "Oh, FUCK yeah!" before I was conscious of it being... "Dig up Her Bones"!
Forget for the moment that Ms. Cyn deservedly bears the title "The Best Ass in Burlesque." Forget the dead-girl-in fishnets look she was sporting*. Forget that she is basically a living jello shot of sex. DIG UP HER fucking BONES! (Yes, yes, I know... it is to post-Danzig Misfits as "Smoke on the Water" is to Deep Purple. So what? Where do you EVER hear it without trying to?!)
Ms. Cyn has done this to me once before. A few months ago, she stepped out -- again on the bar, maybe there's a pattern here -- as the first notes reached into my brain and saying, "Here comes the goods!" pulled out an "Oh, FUCK yeah!" before I was even conscious it was Alice Cooper's "You're My Temptation." (Again, where do you hear that? Other than my apartment, which most of you have never been in?)
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She won't get me a third time: I have officially dropped all assumption of limits to her Powers of Awesome.
Magdalena Fox. I don't know what this woman's been doing, but this makes twice in a row that I've seen her after she apparently took a level in Baddass. She was never unimpressive, but now I swear that she's some kind of cyborg, and keeps getting piston upgrades about the hips and abs. (She sported a pair of new tattoos since last I saw her, as well -- maybe these are the source of her power.) this is all ignoring the fuckyeahness of her Sandman act (Gaiman meets Metallica FTW!) -- I'll never look at Morpheus the same way again.
Which, in combination with Misfits, prompts me to pimp this:
(Okay, that was totally gratuitous. Danzig wasn't even in the Misfits for Dig up Her Bones. I just <3 that video.)
Victoria Privates' tribute to Silent Hill was... Creepy. Funny. And creepy. Even while I was looking at the rubber bands on the rubber mask from two feet away, it was creepy. That takes some doing.
Apathy Angel. I distinctly remember, the first time I saw this woman perform, quipping to Ms. Cyn, "She's like a cat and a snake had a baby." I stand by this. (In fact, the last time I saw her perform, she did so, very effectively, as a cat.) One of my all-time favorite gogo artists.
Ms. Cyn closed, as always. Trademark campy commentary on the state of mass horror entertainment. (It was a little like watching an actual teen horror movie, only actually funny, with more and better skin, and costing 2 hours and $12.50 less.)
As usual, the host gets rearward mention, on the basis of having an offensive lack of boobs. But the Reverend Burke Heffner was part of the brilliance. I'd never seen him perform before -- I've always happened to missed his shows until now; ever again. I can't find words to explain his act without it sounding lame -- because he takes the sort of thing many have done unimpressively, and infuses it with genius. Well worth the wait.
Bonus, I won the raffle. Double bonus, I effectively won everything -- the previous winner took the cookies and flogger option, but shared the cookies nd I already won a flogger last April. Which left me with a ticket for Hotsy Totsy Burlesque and Shaffer the Darklord's Manslaughterer CD, which I'm going to pop into the drive in about 90 seconds and listen to repeatedly for the next 4 days.
* No necro.
bouncySay Something About This
awake
amused
giggly