Mon Cousin Belge

As some of you may know, I was a member of SF indie art-rock outfit Mon Cousin Belge a few years ago. I played bass and sang backing vocals in the band for about 2 years, during which time we played tons of amazing shows with some equally amazing bands, as well as recording what would become their debut CD "Quelle Horreur" (World Famous In San Francisco), which was just recently released.

I have to say that out of all the bands I've been involved with, and all the recordings I've ever been on, I am by far the most proud of this album, not to mention the fact that the band is comprised of some of the most talented musicians I've ever had the honor to work with.

The band has undergone several incarnations since I was a member, but they finally resurfaced a few months ago on the live music scene to promote the release of the album. This last Wednesday evening was the record release party at Cafe du Nord here in SF, and I was invited by band leader/impresario Randy Walker (aka "Emile") to join in the festivities.

If you know nothing of this band, I'll give you a quick recap: "Emile" is a Belgian ex-pat who speaks almost no English and is addicted to plastic surgery (39 surgeries to date, I believe). He cavorts around onstage in a series of freakish costumes that include wigs, garish make-up, sunglasses and surgical bandages.

"Emile" is, of course, a character portrayed by Randy Walker, who, in my humble opinion, is one of the most amazing vocalists ever. He is the only singer I know who can silence absolutely everyone in a club the second he opens his mouth. Jaded hipster audience members, bartenders, doormen, coat-check girls... it doesn't matter; he leaves everyone who witnesses his performance completely awestruck.

Being something of a singer myself, I found working with Randy to be one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my life. He was the first singer I've ever worked with who really pushed me to explore and experiment with my falsetto range, which was something that I had previously been somewhat embarrassed by, but he allowed me to embrace it wholeheartedly with absolutely no fear.

So at the record release party I joined the band onstage for the songs "Sodomy" and "Lola", which are 2 songs in particular where Randy and I performed duelling falsettos in such a way that I once commented "It sounds like Prince having sex with himself". If you've heard these songs I'm sure you'll agree.

In addition to that, I performed dressed as an "Emile" impersonator (and yes, that is me pictured above), which was my little surprise gift to Randy, almost as a kind of tribute in a way. I screamed, flailed my arms, and bashed my tambourine against my hip so hard that it actually fell to pieces. I had such a wonderful time, it was really great to be onstage with them again, even for the short period of time that it was.

It was one of those humbling moments that made me truly appreciate just how lucky I have been to have worked with so many amazing and talented people over the years. They all have my love and respect.

There Are Days And There Are Days...

...and today, I know exactly how these guys feel. I mean, srsly.

"Celebrate Diversity!"

I work as a video editor for a fairly large gay porn company, where I've been for the last 5 years now, and during my tenure here as an employee, I have certainly been witness to all manner of "gay in-fighting", at least in terms of where our community is concerned, and all the usual self-serving political agendas that tend to go along with that.

In addition to that, we have regularly received in the mail the usual unsolicited religious tracts from all denominations and faiths, all sent anonymously of course, telling us what kind of degenerate sodomites we are for promoting such a destructive and unhealthy lifestyle. We've also received a death threat or two here and there. It's pretty much par for the course, and one of those things you simply have to expect from working in an industry of this nature.

Usually one of my coworkers will put one of these pieces of "Christian" propaganda on the fridge in the kitchen here at the office, where it remains for a few weeks or so, just long enough for everyone to get a giggle or two out of it, before being replaced by the next arrival and the whole thing starts all over again. Believe me, we never tire of receiving things like this, but it never ceases to amaze me at just how ingnorant and close-minded people are in this world.

But then take for example what happened today, when a coworker of mine forwarded the following email to me from a disgruntled customer, who was complaining about the nature of our films, specifically the direction with which they seem to be heading, at least in the way he sees it:

Excerpt:

"...if this is any indication of where your studio is heading “Artistically” ..I ,for one, Have NO desire to see men covered in tattoos or naked NIGGERS…Both may be all the rage in Californis [sic],But this is one old Kentucky Queer that will not watch it, and CERTAINLY will not pay for it…"

My mouth must have hung open for a full minute. I simply could not believe what I was reading. This was coming from another gay man. Sure you might say, "Well, he's from Kentucky..." but so what? What exactly does that excuse? Besides, there are plenty of gay people like that (Les Natali, come on down!) right here in San Francisco, the self-described "Mecca of Tolerance".

But at the end of the day, stuff like this really shouldn't surprise me, or anyone else for that matter, especially when you hear news like we did last week, about how the openly-gay owners of Manhunt.net have been donating money to John McCain's Presidential Election Campaign, effectively taking money away from gay community and using it to support someone who stands for everything we are against.

And we wonder why we haven't progressed farther in society than we have?

I am so sick and fucking tired of gay people who do nothing but sponge off the community, reaping the benefits of all it has to offer, such that they may be, and then give absolutely nothing back. And I'm not even talking about the typical, closeted-Republican types here, who vote for anti-gay initiatives and then get caught sucking some dude off in a public restroom.

I'm talking about out and proud gay people who move among us in our community. Because they're the first ones to jump up on their soapbox and scream at the top of their lungs about how "We deserve the same rights as everyone else!" while making inane racist comments like the aforementioned customer did.

That's why I always wince a little whenever I hear that word "community" coming out of the mouths of other gay people, or the even more cringe-worthy "Celebrate Diversity!" sloganeering that gets thrown around so casually.

If we expect to really move forward in society as a people, it can only be done if we truly embody the meanings of those words and concepts. Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming as prejudiced and ignorant as the people who continue to persecute, and in some cases, kill us daily.

The Fatal Flaw

www.myspace.com/rockthefatalflaw

Dig if u will this band. I played tambourine on their record.
So, please, love them.

Oh, the irony...

("Yeah, that's right bitches... check out THESE piss-stained choppers.")

Today John Edwards finally copped to the fact that he did have an affair with a woman who worked for his campaign (while his wife was ill with life-threatening cancer, no less) after repeatedly denying it to the media.

All I can say to that is: "Quelle muthafukkin' surprise."

But in denying that he had fathered a child with this woman, was he trying to portray himself as being somehow more noble than the typical lying, adulterous, hypocritical scumbag that the world of politics seems to attract in droves?

As far as I'm concerned, he may as well have said, "Well, okay, yeah... I fucked her, (scrunches up his face) but I didn't do THAT."

Way to go, dumbass, and welcome to the club. Now sit the fuck down. I mean, really...

The Brown Bunny

Say what you will about Vincent Gallo and/or his films, but after viewing The Brown Bunny a few times now, I'm thoroughly convinced that he's one of the most underrated filmmakers around today.

Yes, the film does contain an infamous and much-ballyhooed fellatio scene between Mr. Gallo and Chloe Sevigny at the film's, um, climax, which goes on for a good 5 minutes or so before he totally nuts in her mouth. And yes, the blowjob is for real, folks. But while a great many people felt this scene in particular to be unnecessarily gratuitous, I was not among them.

For one thing, when I'm watching a film, I always try and give the director the benefit of the doubt, at least in terms of where my suspension of disbelief is concerned, wherever and whenever possible. Taken out of context, yes, the scene is rather unsettling in and of itself, but within the context of the entire film, I simply viewed it as part of the story. Nothing more.

Being a lover of the medium of film, there is nothing I love more than really well-crafted cinematography. I love watching a film made by a director who really knows how to use a camera to frame a really amazing shot. And for me, the scene that most exemplifies this comes about halfway through the film.

During his cross-country trek, the film's protagonist, Bud Clay (portrayed by Gallo), stops at the Bonneville Salt Flats to ride his motorcycle. A very simple shot done in a single take, with the depth perception on the camera lens completely flattened out and compressed, Bud puts on his helmet, revs the engine and then takes off. And off he goes... on and on and on and on into the distance for what seems like forever, until he is a speck on the mirage-distorted horizon.

I must have rewound this shot 20 times. It is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful sequences I've seen on film in a very long time. No amount of CGI can come close to capturing that kind of raw visual impact, no matter how much you tart it up or how much money you throw at it.

I only wish more filmmakers and studio executives in Hollywood understood this.

Stanley Likes To Watch...

I have what some of my closest friends would call a rather unhealthy obsession with Stanley Kubrick. I have all of his films on DVD, and I have seen every single one of them literally thousands of times over the years. I also have just about every book ever written about him and/or his films, as well as original posters and other assorted collectibles.

One of my most prized possessions is an actual working script from the set of The Shining, which was not only signed by Stanley Kubrick, but also Jack Nicholson and Stephen King as well. I got it on eBay for $30. The guy I bought it from didn't even know what he had, and what he subsequently let slip through his fingers. It was quite the coup.

My favorite film of all time is, of course, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I recall several years ago reading about an auction at Sotheby's, mere days after the fact, where the actual reddish/orange spacesuit, worn by Keir Dullea in his iconic role as astronaut Dr. David Bowman, was sold to a private collector for a paltry $5000.00. I was livid. Had I known about this auction beforehand I would've scrounged up the money myself, and it would be standing in my living room right now, enclosed in glass.

As it is, I think I've done pretty well over the years. So what then, one might ask oneself, do you get the Stanley Kubrick fan who has just about everything already? Well, if you're my friend Spencer, you present me with a t-shirt with the image shown above, like he did for my birthday a few weeks ago, scoring an unassailable 1000 points in the process. It has quickly eclipsed all else as my new favorite t-shirt in my entire wardrobe, and I wear it with pride.

But then there are moments like yesterday, when a coworker noticed my t-shirt as I was passing him in the kitchen and he asked me, "Who is 'CUB RICK'? Is that like, a Bear thing?" I could feel the blood drain from my face.

Me: "It's 'Kubrick', as in 'Stanley Kubrick', the filmmaker..."

Coworker: (blank stare)

Me: "You know... 'A Clockwork Orange'?"

Coworker: (blank stare)

Me: "'2001: A Space Odyssey'???"

Coworker: "Omigod, that movie was so STUPID!!!"

Me: (blank stare)

But I digress...

Later that same afternoon, as I was relieving myself at the urinal, I was delighted to find that, due to the double image on the front of the t-shirt, the Stanley on the bottom was looking up at me while I held my penis in my hands.

Now THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is a gift... Thanks, Spencer!