Year of the Drag Queen

As I perused the letters sections of some of our other local gay papers a week or two ago, I was astonished to see such a backlash over the Freedom Day Parade Committee’s choice of Year of the Queer as the theme for the ‘93 celebration. Even more surprising was the popular opinion that Ggreg Taylor was largely responsible for the theme. His much-publicized battle to
infuse the stodgy and fiscally dysfunctional Parade Committee with some new blood by running for the position of co-chair and then winning certainly rattled the cages of the old guard. It is generally the older members of the community who are opposed to the word queer, deeming it offensive because of the derogatory connotations of yesteryear, and for some reason they’re focusing their fiery and cantankerous complaints and threats on Ms Taylor, making attempts to create another split in the community. It seems just like the type of mental derangement that turns some people into bitter and nasty vipers who get mad if their coffee is too hot or a small child looks at them. I mean, let’s write letters about a real issue, not just another little smoke screen to hide other problems that might be a source of shame far worse than say being called a queer and wrongly turning an individual into a media whipping boy and a focus for hatred. So if you can’t stand the word queer, fuck off.

Besides, as my friend Jade Semi-precious said, “Wasn’t last year the year of the queer?” I think she’s right. Remember all those pierces, bandanas, bomber jackets and activist-wear chic? You know: “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re rimming with dental dams~” etc. For ‘93 it’s a dated concept, not just a word that has offended many and stirred up controversy as if it were “dirty.” It’s not like Year of the Motherfucker or something, and it’s not au courant!. What is? Well, to the strains of Ru Paul’s first single on Tommy Boy Records, “Supermodel,” an undeniably joyous piece of self-assured, liberated dance music bound for anthem status, Jade and I decided the parade theme should be Year of the Drag Queen. It’s timely, due to a number of drag advances into the mainstream that we’ve witnessed recently. When has a drag queen ever had a hit single climbing the charts? When has a drag queen ever been featured in Vanity Fair? When have we seen more of them on MTV than we are now? Drag queens are huge this year, making breakthroughs like never before, so why not? When it comes down to it, why do most people attend the parade anyway? To see drag queens, of course, and that draw has probably been consistent for over two decades. This historical sense sealed it all up for me: the parade theme should be Year of the Drag Queen. Jade, a drag queen, quite agreed and was off, vogueing down the hail as Ru Paul shouted the first names of the most well- known supermodels in the world over the back beat and Jade substituted her own name over Naomi or Claudia, I can’t remember which.

This IS WAR

Speaking of opposing forces and drag queens, these things are two consistent subjects running throughout Connie Champagne’s one-person theater piece called This Is War, which opened on Jan. 8 and plays at 10 pm every Friday night of the month at Josie’s Cabaret. Such a fine show as this should have a much longer run but the star is committed to another production in February, when she tackles the role of Neely O’Hara in Phillip R. Ford’s multimedia stage production of Valley of the Dolls. Perhaps that’s why an unknown patron shouted during the show, “Sparkle, Connie! Sparkle!” A line from that gay trash icon of a film. I can’t wait. Jade plays Sharon Tate. But enough about that for now, it’s time to make reservations for This Is War because it’s one hell of a fine show.

Now when it comes to Connie Champagne, I’ve run out of adjectives as a reviewer or critic. Her local nightclub performances singing some old and new favorites with a fine band have always been rich, with a theatrical sensibility that confirms her craft in that area yet never gets in the way of the rapport she has with a crowd. Then there’s her voice, with a strength that can still astonish me after countless sets in smoky bars. She’s also the only female performer I know who has properly adopted elements of drag performance and style and integrated them into her persona without looking silly or being dishonest about her influences. For instance, I know that Whitney Houston was never going to be a singer until she saw Ru Paul singing “StarBooty” in the late ‘70s, but she wouldn’t admit that now, would she? Oh no, not Miss Bodyguard thing.

The show opens with a recording of Connie saying, “Hi, I’m Connie Champagne and this is war,” ending with a menacing giggle. Then pianist Glen Kelly starts into “The Theme From a Man and a Woman,” and Connie comes in through the audience with that great blond fall she puts on, dark cat glasses and a black coat with leopard print collar. It was very La Dolce Vita, a star’s entrance, a thought that drifted away very quickly after she got onstage and began to unfold her story, starting with her own conception. As the press release says, This Is War focuses on people in love and the thin line between love and insanity, and I don’t want to tell you anything else about the show because I hate it when a review tells all and wrecks any chance of surprise. It’s not like a work with a big surprise ending to kill in one fell swoop or anything, but it’s filled with gems of knowledge gained through pain from a person who’s healed enough to talk about it, sing about it and wave goodbye to almost all of it. The course her story takes maintains a great historical sense with accurate and creative references that speak volumes more than actual month/day/year data ever could. It encompassed periods of time that were very important to me personally and a few universal lessons in life and love I’m certain spoke to all people present, and contained other details experienced by those who live in this nation’s most provincial metropolitan area, and who have an interest in the arts, music and performance and stay for any substantial length of time. It’s an archive of emotion and time, stuff you shouldn’t forget.

Vocally Connie was very strong and it was a treat to hear her with just a piano accompaniment framing that magical voice that first hooked me into superfandom. Sometimes her voice reaches a thunderous strength and proportion that even shocks Connie herself, or so it seems when a certain smile crosses her lips and her eyes widen with surprise like she can’t believe it. She’s also a hell of a storyteller, with impeccable timing and a strong sense of the old and forgotten art of talking for the amusement of others. This Is War is a show that finally properly utilizes the multiple talents that lurk in and out of view during her nightclub sets. I always knew that the girl who once sang Boulevard of Broken Dreams” lying on her back on the floor of Klubstitute was bursting with the talent that This Is War successfully melds and showcases.

Finally, since I was sparing of certain details or moments of greatness in the show, I ought to leave you with something to pique your interest. Learn where Connie got her name; what happened the first time she did drag with a bunch of queens, the true meaning of the word glamour and why life is war and the joy of the fight is all we’ve got. Learn what brought this hardened cynical motherfucker to tears once or twice. And witness live onstage a wig-tossing costume change, aided by the prettiest blond go-go girls in town. This Is War is another fine indication that 1993 is in-deed the Year of the Drag Queen. *