Remembering The Party

I've started this post several times over since I got back from last week's Trocadero Transfer 30th anniversary Remember The Party event in San Francisco. I usually get my event reviews up pretty quickly, but not this time. Part of the delay was due to difficulties in getting the video below uploaded from my camera, but I think that a bigger issue was that I've been luxuriating in the afterglow from one of the most magical events I've experienced in the last few years, and that having the post "in the works" was sort of keeping it alive for me. Weird, huh?

Last Sunday, after walking around the Castro Street Fair for four hours, my host Leif (the Hot House hottie) and I went back to his place to relax for a bit, then headed for the venue, original site of the Troc, now the Glas Kat, arriving shortly before the 6pm door opening. We walked up on a line of men and women largely in their late 40's to early 60's, all chattering excitedly and trading Troc memories. Our old SF buddy Bill (aka DJ Trainwreck), in from Chicago for the party, joined us in line. Inside the door, party producers Chris and Richard had staffers handing out strands of costume pearls, in honor of the Troc's pearl anniversary.

DJ Jerry Bonham, whom I've mentioned here many times as my favorite DJ in the world, was only four songs into his nine-hour set and the dance floor was already crowded, as it would remain for the rest of the night. The lighting crew had recreated the original Troc mirror ball assembly, the disco fog was blasting, and the capacity crowd was smiling, smiling, smiling.

Jerry gave us the complete old school trip: a down tempo beginning (Geraldine Hunt's Can't Fake The Feeling), an hours-long journey through gay disco's HI-NRG period (Patrick Cowley's Menergy, Sylvester's Can't Stop Dancing), the best of Philly disco (Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes' The Love I Lost) and a luscious, prolonged morning music set featuring Troc staples (Grace Jones' La Vie En Rose, Sharon Ridley's Changin', and Stephanie Mills' Never Knew Love Like This Before.) My highlight of the night: Tata Vega's I Just Keep Thinking About You Baby. (Download / Stream.) Rule #1 of gay disco: Sylvester will never be topped. Rule #2: Jerry Bonham does not fail. UPDATE: Check out Jerry's complete playlist for the night.

Many stars of gay disco were in the house: performers, producers, DJs, and light techs. Seen: still humpy Megatone singer Paul Parker (here's a 1983 video of hawt Parker performing Right On Target at the Saint), Lester Temple, DJ Larry Sanders (Fire Island, Sandpiper), Rod Roderick, DJ David Nathan, DJ Phil B, and Australia's superstar DJ Paul Goodyear, with whom I had a brief chat and who later took center stage in an amazing mirrorball dinner jacket as the original Troc lighting crew (Chris, Bob, and Carla) trained spotlights on him, to the roaring approval of the crowd.

I met lots of JMG readers over the course of the night, many of whom had flown in expressly for the party. At one point, RTP producer Richard pointed out original Troc DJ Steve Fabus on the dance floor and I impulsively lunged towards Fabus to ask for a picture. The handsome young man dancing with Fabus (and there were a surprising number of under-40s guys in the crowd) stared at me for a second, then said "Are you Joe?" He turned out to be regular JMG commenter M00nchild, whom I'd always pictured as an aging East Bay hippie. So not.

M00nchild turned out to have a freakishly encyclopedic knowledge of gay disco for someone so young, which he demonstrated to me many times over the next few hours. You really must read his poignant review of the party from the perspective of one of the younger guys there. An excerpt:

Watching these beautiful older gay men around me dance, their lips moving to every song, their movements hitting every break, brought tears to my eyes. So many -- if not all of them -- were survivors. To get to this point, dancing at this party, to music that was so clearly special and full of memories, they had to have walked through unbelievable loss and challenge. It was a privilege to dance with these men all moving in unison, face to face, cheek to cheek, one to one, man to man.

Boy, M00nchild really nailed that, didn't he? Buried in all that joy, all that dancing, all that singing along, was the subliminal undercurrent of a requiem dance, a faint funereal drumbeat keeping a second, haunted rhythm. You wouldn't notice it as a casual observer, but a keen eye could see it there occasionally, fleetingly, in the song transitions. That's when a dancer would momentarily zone out, face gone slack, eyes averted. His feet would be moving at 130 bpm, but his mind was spinning much faster, as a particular song slammed him back to 1983 or some other magical, youthful, lusty year when he once danced to that song with a beautiful young man, now long gone. But after a moment, the dancer's partner would knowingly touch him on the arm, he'd blink, nod, and return to the now, feet moving more forcefully, jumping a little bit higher. Like a New Orleans jazz funeral, this is how gay men of my generation grieve, how we venerate The Lost. We do it by dancing. And it's a beautiful, moving, celebratory thing, free of cloying sentimentality. I wouldn't trade it, or the memory of last Sunday, for anything in the world.

In homage to original Trocadero Transfer DJ Bobby Vitteriti, Jerry closed the night with Pachabell's Canon In D Major, as Vitteriti did so many times, decades ago. And we middle-agers (and some older and some young'uns) hugged the strangers we'd danced next to for the previous nine hours as Jerry's applause rolled on and on. Feet were sore, backs ached, throats were hoarse, but ah, how our souls were refreshed. A spiritual catharsis, an emotional rebalancing, had been achieved, something unattainable by years on some therapist's couch. But like any mood equalizer, the effect is transitory. I think I'll need another fix in exactly twelve months.

Remembering Memorial

Big weekend. Big in every way.

Saturday: Up early and out for the Superbowl of gay rugby, the Bingham Cup. Emerging from the 6 train up in Harlem, Eddie and I ran into podcaster/tough guy Mike P and blogger hottie Bryce of Plastic Music, and we joined the curious mix of locals, ruggers and gay rugby groupies waiting in line for the Crazy Bus.

Ah, the Crazy Bus, aka the X65. You see kids, the Bingham Cup was held on the sprawling athletic fields of Randall's Island, home to the largest mental institution in the world, the Manhattan Psychiatric Center. (Technically, the hospital is on Ward's Island, but the two have been joined by landfill over the years.) Having ridden that bus out to Randall's Island in years past to play homosexual softball, let me tell you...there are some very interesting characters on that bus. Take a dozen heroin addicts, some schizophrenics, a serial killer or three, then add 50 large hairy gay men. Interesting. You would have loved watching.

The rugby matches themselves were predictably hot, sweaty, violent, funny, and bloody. I'm still trying to wash my brain of the image of the guy getting his eyeball stitched up as I walked past the med tent. Eddie, Vasco and I hung out with Washington Renegade/superblogger Jimbo and he tried to explain the various rugby positions. I think Jimbo plays Wingback or Chickenwing or something like that. We also chatted with Renegade/blogger Seamus McStebbins and what is it with all ruggers being bloggers? At one point Vasco and I decided that all players wearing #13 were inexplicably super-hot. All of them. Especially you, Sydney Convicts #13. Especially you. And we missed seeing it, but blogger/glamour consultant Neil (husband of the above mentioned Bryce) scored his first goal ever for the Gotham Knights, then performed his ritual Zulu. Go Neil! Really sorry I didn't get to watch.

Saturday night we met up with Glenn and Vasco and attended a couple of the team's bar parties, both predictably rowdy and beer sodden, despite their relatively posh Chelsea locations. There was a lot of shouting and some rampant rugger-on-rugger hot man lovin. At least I got to watch.

Sunday night was the NYC debut of popular UK bear dance party XXL at Webster Hall, where we arrived to find the place already packed at 11:30pm. Webster Hall sucks as a nightclub venue. The main room is on the third floor, the bathrooms are in the basement, and I'm sure a lot of those very sore ruggers didn't appreciate that. The very strange Webster Hall bartending set up, in which your order is taken, then ferried to some kind of master bartender, who actually rings you up, made it just impossible to get a drink in under 15 minutes. Just as well, at $7 a pop for a plastic cup of Budweiser.

But otherwise the party was great. Crowded, but not crowded. Bloggerati Robocub (and Robopapi) and Michael Hartney were tearing up the dancefloor. The music was well received, if a rather curious blend of recent hits (Hung Up-Madonna, Mary J. Blige - Be Without You) and early '90s diva house anthems (Gonna Make You Sweat- C&C Music Factory, Ride On Time - Black Box). My personal highlight was Donna Summer's I Feel Love, of course! Ultra Nate' performed early, singing her gay pride anthem Free. Around 2:30am, Barbara Tucker took the stage with four backup singers and delivered one of the best club performances I think I've ever seen, performing her immortal Beautiful People and her 2004 hit Most Precious Love, among others. Perhaps sensing that her audience was a bit longer in the tooth than during her other nightclub appearances, Tucker revealed that she had just turned 44 years old, generating huge applause.

The biggest downside of the evening was coming across an unconscious young man in the seating area above the dancefloor. I tried to slap him awake to no avail and finally left in search of assistance, once I got the guys seated nearby to agree to keep him upright until I returned. I have a feeling the kid was simply passed out drunk, not OD'd on GHB, but you can't be too careful these days. I encourage anybody who comes across someone in distress in a nightclub to be that person who goes for help. The first Webster Hall employee I found simply said, "Take me to him," and that was the end of my involvement.

Otherwise, it was a great night and we'll definitely attend another XXL, should the party return to NYC. We even got a free mix CD upon departure, which was a nice touch. And congratulations to the Bingham Cup winners, the Sydney Convicts who also won for overall hotness, not that I'm shallow or anything.
Top Left: Sydney accepts the Bingham Cup from Mark Bingham's mother, Alice Hoglan.
Top Right: Sydney Convicts.
Bottom Left: L-R: Eddie, Me, Michael, Tim, Glenn, Vasco
Bottom Right: Sydney celebrates.

Remembering Bea Arthur

This afternoon Father Tony accompanied me to a memorial honoring Bea Arthur at Broadway's Majestic Theater, one of the few houses I'd never been in as Phantom Of The Opera has been playing there for roughly 87 years. As one would expect and demand, it was a star-studded affair featuring Broadway royalty such as event emcee Angela Lansbury, Chita Rivera, Tyne Daly, Billy Goldenberg, and Zoe Caldwell. Rosie O'Donnell and her former talk show band leader John McDaniel performed the theme from Maude, Rue McClanahan shared a (very) raunchy story, Adrienne Barbeau brought the house to tears with her tribute, and one of my personal heroes, Norman Lear himself, shared his history with Bea Arthur going back to All In The Family.

Peppered in between were more blue-tinged anecdotes from writers and producers (many of which involved Bea's legendary love of a drink), NYC drag star Coco Peru performed a bit from Bea's one-woman Broadway show, and we were treated to numerous video clips and photo montages from Bea's 60+ year career. After the memorial we retired to an after-party/wake at Time Square's Cafe Josephine where Tony and I were able to actually introduce ourselves to some of the boldface names mentioned above. We attended both events as the guests of the Ali Forney Center, whose executive director Carl Siciliano riveted the Majestic audience with his recounting of Bea Arthur's tireless support for homeless LGBT youth. The Ali Forney Center will be honoring Bea by naming one of their residences for her. It was a great afternoon for a great lady. Father Tony has more photos, his recapping of the event is here.

Swag Tuesday

Courtesy of the event's producers, today's Swag Tuesday prize is two tickets to Trippin' On The Moon: Remembering Dancing Under The Dome, a reunion of the members and performers of NYC's legendary Saint disco, which closed 21 years ago this month.

Trippin' On The Moon takes place this Sunday, May 31st at Soho's Santos House Party. Original Saint DJs Michael Fierman and Robbie Leslie will spin a night of Saint classics, with lights by original Saint lighting technician Richard Tucker. Advance tickets $30, $40 at the door (if available.) $20 admission to those with an original Saint membership card. The evening benefits Gay Men's Health Crisis and LifeBEAT.

Enter to win by commenting on this post. Only comment once and please leave your email address in the text of your comment. If you cannot be in NYC this Sunday, your winning entry is transferable to another party. Entries close on Wednesday at midnight, Pacific time. Publicists: If you'd like to take part in Swag Tuesday on JMG, please email me.

Today: 9th Annual Transgender Day Of Remembrance

The Transgender Day of Remembrance was set aside to memorialize those who were killed due to anti-transgender hatred or prejudice. The event is held in November to honor Rita Hester, whose murder on November 28th, 1998 kicked off the “Remembering Our Dead” web project and a San Francisco candlelight vigil in 1999. Rita Hester’s murder — like most anti-transgender murder cases — has yet to be solved.

Although not every person represented during the Day of Remembrance self-identified as transgendered — that is, as a transsexual, crossdresser, or otherwise gender-variant — each was a victim of violence based on bias against transgendered people.

Tonight there will be a candlelight vigil and march. Staging begins at the NYC LGBT Community Center at 6pm. A few blocks away, there will be another rally tonight at 6pm at Sheridan Square on Christopher Street. Across the street at the Stonewall Inn, the HRC is coincidentally staging a networking party where transgender activists intend to protest HRC's recent tactics in supporting a trans-less ENDA. This week the New York Blade published an editorial calling for the resignation of HRC head Joe Solmonese.
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Trippin' On The Moon!

OMG, you guys! A Saint reunion party!

Sunday May 31st, original Saint DJs Micheal Fierman and Robbie Leslie will perform at Trippin' On The Moon: Remembering Dancing Under The Dome at Manhattan's Santos House Party.

Advance tickets $30, $40 at the door (if available.) $20 admission to those with an original Saint membership card. The evening benefits Gay Men's Health Crisis and LifeBEAT.

I am SO freekin' there. I can guarantee you that the same song will not play all night long.