Dress Rehearsal Yesterday, Concert Tomorrow!

Things really are hotting up! Yesterday after work the majority of the Pink Singers trooped back to our old hunting rounds, the Royal Academy of Music, for our dress rehearsal in advance of the concert on Saturday. It was a chance for us to fine tune the choreography, especially in the context of the risers on the stage, and for the soloists to check out their projection as well. Thankfully nothing was disastrous, although there was much which was improved. Certainly America and There Is Nothing Like A Dame felt better for having run through it on stage.

I also took quite a few photos, with the intention of adding to our collection of publicity shots. The lighting in the Duke's Hall is good, but still rather dim by photography standards, and because we actually move around a lot on stage, it was difficult to avoid blurring (example above). I have tried to use a flash before, but the flash on my camera is too feeble to fill the hall and I end up getting dark, underexposed shots. Anyway, while most of the photos weren't horrible, it might be an idea next time for us to pose rather than dance our way through the photo shoot!

The show starts at 7.30pm at the Royal Academy of Music. Get your tickets now: we're going to have fun and I know you will too!

Things Aren't So Simple

As a child of the 70s, and seeing how bad things were growing up gay in a parochial, conservative society, I realise that things would have been significantly worse had I been born a decade earlier, and assume that things would have been significantly better had I been born a decade later. Things are rarely so simple, however. Here is a poster found on the streets of Portland, Maine accompanied by the poetic words of David Wojnarowicz.

In 1983 this boy was born into the middle of a deadly epidemic. It would be decades before he understands the severity of his situation and the ghosts haunting his unclaimed and abandoned histories of sexual liberation.

Had he been born decades earlier like his sister, his lifeless diseased body would be just one among hundreds of thousands of other boys just like him rotting in the ground. But he lived, only to inherit a world steeped in fear and hatred of his tiny little body and the desires he would pursue before long.

Feared and hated because he will soon learn what it is like to find pleasure in the naked bodies of other boys. He will be faced with the all consuming anxiety of safer sex paranoia and the panic that ensues when waking up with the most mild of fevers and chills.

But he will carry on despite the daunting “I hope you die of AIDS faggot” taunting because the dangerous pleasures he will intimately know are both sustaining and addictive. “Every time we fuck, we win”, he will someday whisper in his two lovers’ ears, reassuring himself as much as them that every day they stay alive is a revolutionary act; their desperate pleasures becoming the most insurrectionary moments of defiance imaginable in a world that would just as soon leave them for dead…

Makes me think.

You Can't Stop The Beat

Last night a bunch of us went down to see Hairspray, the stage musical. Having only just watched the film(s) a couple of months ago for the first time, I was an instant convert, and I knew I just had to see it in the theatre. Straight off I just want to say that it met every expectation and I have not seen such an energetic and enjoyable show, ever!

What do I look for in a musical? Well, like any other medium, it really does depend on the style of the show. For instance, as you know, I am a major fan of Chess, and the reason I think it is a great musical is that the songs are melodic and memorable, the storyline is believeable and emotive, and at the end of the day I leave humming a few tunes and feeling like I have been through something worthy.

Hairspray is not the same as Chess. For one it is uncompromisingly happy; and this is even when it is trying to address the important social issue of racial segregation, and by proxy, and through some none-too-veiled hints, about being happy with who you are and showing some (gay) pride. The songs are all danceable, and the characters from Tracy to Link, to Mr. and Mrs. Turnblad and even the Von Tussels are big and overblown but easy to feel empathy towards.

The original John Waters film which starred a fresh-faced and even larger Ricki Lake as Tracy and a 5 o'clock shadowed Divine as Mrs. Turnblad was pretty weird as films go, and included the memorable scene of Mrs. Von Tussel trying to pop her daughter's facial pimple. If you have not seen this version of the show there is a terrible close up of dripping pus best watched on an empty stomach.

The musical came after this, followed by the film of the musical, so by the time you get this far down the line the whole experience is sanitized. It is still thoroughly enjoyable, but partly thanks to Zac Efron who playes Link in the second film, reminds me more of High School Musical than the original film's Bride of Frankenstein.

Thankfully, the musical itself strikes the delicate balance between the two. Yes, the pimple crushing scene is preserved (although since we were in the gods, we were spared the visuals) and Mrs. Turnblad was more Divine than John Travolta. Indeed, much is made of Michael Ball is Edna, and I have to say that it is entirely justified. As a wonderful musical tenor, Mr. Ball is forced to since in a slightly higher register than usual and manages to keep the slight raspiness of man obviously pretending to be a woman. The other stand out performances for me were Ian Talbot as Mr. Turnblad, Adrian Hansel as Seaweed (what a voice!), Leanne Jones as Tracy, and an utterly outstanding Johnnie Fiori as Motormouth Maybelle.

Did I think the stage show better than the film? You betcha! The actors were clearly enjoying themselves, the dancing was electric, and at the end you just could not help getting up and doing a little boogieing. I was eyeing some of the choreography and definitely think that if the Pinkies can convey even half the amount of excitement on stage this Saturday we will have given a truly outstanding performance.

MacGruber: This Video Is Gay

Unfortunately, in common parlance "gay" means naff, so it is about time we reclaimed it! Here's a skit from Saturday Night Live of an on-going series called MacGruber, a spoof of an 80s show called MacGuyver, the show that Aunt Selma always watches in the Simpsons. This one guest stars Shia LeBoeuf (he whose name has far too many vowels), the actor from the Transformers and now Indiana Jones, playing the role of MacGruber's son. And the video really is gay, in a good way!

The Pink Singers: 25 Years Of Pride

"Pride" is such an odd term. In its original sense, the concept is quite un-British. We are almost expected to feel embarassed about our accomplishments. So when I get asked, "What are you proud of?", the conflicted mix queasiness and confusion is exactly the same as I get when asked, "What are your strengths?" in an interview.

When it comes to the Pink Singers, however, I find it a lot easier to know exactly what I am proud of: I am proud of the fact that we are a very diverse group of individuals from all backgrounds, all shapes and sizes, with very different temprements, who all get along with each other. I am proud that we come togther once a week for just twelve weeks or so, and put together a slick, polished and musically accomplished performance. I am proud that the Pink Singers provides a safe and supportive space for people who love to sing who just happen to be gay and lesbian. And the best thing is that we have been doing all the above for 25 years.

I am very proud of the fact that the Pink Singers were created to add a musical accompaniment to the London Pride of 1983, and we have been singing at every single Pride since then. This year was no exception, and nearly the entire choir showed up to strut our stuff and wow the crowds in Trafalgar Square. Things started out rather grim that morning with torrential rain pouring down, but come midday, the clouds cleared and the sun came out in force. By the time Simon and I got down to Pizza Express to meet Lynne and the other Pinkies it was blazing down.

Pride (this time with a capital 'P') is that one day of the year when it seems like London's entire gay population turns out at once. There is an incredibly festive atmosphere and everyone, gay or straight, seems that much 'gayer'. Our maitre d' gave us a knowing wink when we sat down and you could tell he was checking out the passing hordes of muscle marys, twinks, drag queens and the much larger undefined majority as they poured out of Charing Cross station on their way down to the square.

After a hurried lunch - this is the second time the Pink Singers have eaten at Pizza Express in as many weeks, so we don't really even need the menu to order! - we joined the rest of the group up front and wandered backstage in preparation. Michael led the warmup by singing Son Of A Preacher Man. The altos really gave it all and I have to say they are sounding really excellent; they got us in the mood and there was a lot of jumping and jiving going on, and we weren't even on stage yet!

When we emerged from our marquee to make our appearance the atmosphere was electric! The sun was shining brightly and there were thousands of people standing in the square. It was a riot of colour and, thanks to the assorted sponsors, a cacophony of whistles. It is funny how little things prick that sense of pride in you, but seeing the words 'lesbian', 'gay', 'bisexual' and 'trans' in large posters on the parapet at the top of Trafalgar Square made my heart swell. The cheers when we finally got on stage certainly helped as well.

Philip R worked the crowd, Michael played the introduction to Son Of A Preacher Man and we were off! And for once, the sound engineer gods were kind and managed, by the second verse, to get the balance of piano and choir right. Old Pinkies in the audience, including our favourites like Ritchie, Andrew D (with Jamie) and Kay, were waving like mad and singing along. It always puts a huge smile on my face to see members of the wider Pinkie family coming along to give us support.

By the time we got to Forever Motown, spirits were so high and I was singing so loudly I would say that all musical nuances were called off. The sense of unbridled happiness I get when we start singing "Ah... ah... ah... ah!" in unison at the start of Ain't No Mountain always sends a shiver down my spine. This was by no means our most subtle performance, but it really didn't matter at all, and the cheers from the audience were loud and sustained at the end of our set.

Unlike previous years where we both opened and closed the ceremony, this time our duty was only to open the celebrations, so we could wander in and around the crowds. We were tasked to give out flyers to the concert this Saturday (see link to the right for details and tickets by the way!) and it was remarkably easy to do. I had people coming up to me to find out more about the choir, when the next gig was and how they could join. The Pink Singers are nearly at maximum capacity, but with members leaving at the end of every season there is always a space for new recruits.

After that it was off to Soho to fight our way through the mass of gay humanity along Old Compton Street and Soho Square. It was indeed a big 'family' reunion and I ran into several friends, many Frontrunners, and assorted members of our extended choir family. Who would've thought there were that many gay people out there? What really reassured me is that although there were many who fell into one or other of the 'gay' categories, there were many, many others who do not subscribe to these stereotypes. I blogged recently about the hijras in India and how they are the fighting for gay rights in India, and at that early stage of progress, I think you do need such high visibility. Thankfully British society has moved on a bit and there is less need for that kind of identity.

Indeed, to me the Pink Singers are a microcosm of our community. We have a few bears, a few queens (I'm not saying who!), not nearly enough muscle marys (join! join!), butch dykes and lipstick lesbians, but we mainly have a whole lot of members who just don't fit into any category, and who just want to sing. Now that is something to be proud of!

Sinsational!

While we're on the subject of Pride, there is allegedly an on-going battle between a guy called Josh, and the religious fundamentalists (and their rehashed poster) who stalk the Pride in Atlanta, with rather amusing consequences. As Homer Simpson would put it: mmm... sacrilicious! More details on Flickr 1 2.

Gay In India

The British have a lot to apologise for, at least in terms of legislating against homosexuality in their former colonies. Unfortunately, the more prudish nature of places like Singapore and India mean that the laws, enshrined in the Victorian age, are not likely to be revoked any time soon.

The Economist has an interesting article on India's first ever gay Pride. It is easy to scoff at the "hot pink saris" but the cross-dressing hijras are at least fighting the good fight! I'm glad I live in London rather than in India, but it is something to think about as we celebrate Pride this weekend.

Despite a burgeoning gay scene in India’s big cities, many Indian homosexuals worry more about exposure to their families and colleagues than about the law. “My brother knows; my mother doesn’t,” says Pankash, a 23-year-old year-old student who likes to be known as Tina when he goes on dates dressed as his glamorous alter ego. Though he was not incognito on Sunday, many of his fellow paraders were. Waving placards with slogans such as “Gay and loving it”, many still wore paper masks, lest they were “outed” on television.

4 Minutes And 29 Seconds Of Happiness

If you have four minutes to spare, I guarantee this will put a smile on your face, and perhaps even the odd tear of joy.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.