Hearsay
Club Fuego fires up a Latin furnace of dance... Richard Chartier takes on a new procedure... Rachel Panay's Miami escorts...
Hearsay was recently asked to join the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington by a source who will go unnamed to protect his secret identity. Needless to say, he was a man, he was gay, he wore a cape and a top hat, and he could sing — and not just in the shower, but with his legs arched high over his head. Talk about a bottom-rung tenor. Anyway, Hearsay politely declined the sweet offer, citing its own unpleasant memories of high school choir and choirmaster, Mr. Umbrage, who liked to warm us up by making us take a shot of Jagermeister topped off by a tab of Ex-Lax. We would then sing “Stairway to Heaven," the Ex-Lax helping to produce the much-needed bass notes from the, ahem, other end of the vocal spectrum….
A few Saturdays ago, Hearsay clawed its way to the dance floor at VelvetNation, where a veritable chorus of angels mysteriously appeared out of a giant disco ball. Damn, thought Hearsay, this is some good shit. Duly inspired, Hearsay decided to go on a butt-grabbing spree, pinching the supple yet pliant cheeks of Bob "Paper Cut" Halbert, Eric "Paper Clip" James and Van "Paper Cup" Neel. Fortunately the presence of the singing angels was not a sign that Hearsay was being called to a higher place in the sky, also known as the Mile High Club. (Hearsay is certifiably a member of that club, and it’s got the airline toilet seat to prove it.) It turned out to be just a normal, intimate night at Velvet, and Hearsay saw plenty of regular creatures of the night, like Rob “Damn Yankees” Wahlfeld and his partner-in-nipplery, Onelio "Seussical" Lopez, as well as the ultimate party grrl, Stacy "Victor & Victoria" Morgan, who unzipped her jeans and revealed to Hearsay that she is, in fact, not a woman but a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a cat pretending to be a woman pretending to be a transgender pretending to be a sleepover friend of Michael Jackson’s pretending to be a woman pretending to be a woman. Stunned and gently amused, Hearsay gave her little man in the boat a playful squeeze and moved on, lavished its attentions on Michael "Sasss-aaay!" Sasser, a man for all men who aren’t pretending to be women. Unfortunately, all it got in return was a t-shirt reading “I Kneeled Here”….
One week later, Hearsay found itself at the salsa-infused Club Fuego, at its new home at Cada Vez on the up-and-coming U Street. Lovely place, that Cada Vez, a haven away from home. Hearsay reveled in the latin men, who dance with the kind of lascivious fervor that tends to makes even Greeks blush. Sofia "I Want You So Bad I Can Feel It In My Foam-Enhanced Loins" Carrero performed two short but sweet sets, and still she refused to honor’s Hearsay request to sing “Una Paloma Blanca.” DJ Hector kept the fiesta beats pumping and the crowd jumping and, much later, humping, after which they all started jumping again. Okay, so the mixed drink prices are a little steep — but so are the drinks themselves. In other words, you get your money’s worth….
A few Fridays back, Hearsay decided it needed a to do a little undercover work before din-din, so naturally it headed to carcinogen-free Halo, with its heavenly lights and pristine, cough-and-germ-free atmosphere. (And watch for more Halo in the future, since there are rumors a-swirl that Ed “Eighties” Bailey and John “Divas” Guggenmos are planning to expand into the space directly below, you know, the space that’s now Empire Video. No more movies. More smoke-free environs.) As Hearsay fumbled and fondled its way through the crowd, it attempted to identify the boys who looked as if they most needed a nicotine patch (Hearsay had a whole pack). Nick "First I Was Afraid, I Was Petrified" Cox was Hearsay’s first victim. He wimpered and sent Hearsay on its way, sobbing “I’m already covered in nicotine patches!” But soon enough, Hearsay found the perfect specimen in need of an adhesive aid: Amin "Lung Power" Shaheen. He said he’d never needed it more. And ain’t that just the best pickup line you could hear?….
Hearsay wants to wish a very happy birthday to its old, old, old pal Richard “Dr. Tar and Professor Feather” Chartier. The Avant Garde soundmeister turned 34 this past Tuesday and celebrated with a private party at Felix the Cat in Adams Morgan. Chartier, whose special brand of static is extremely popular in Japan, a country where, obviously, they like to strain to hear their music, has put an end to his long-running party Mies and has created a new night for the hippest of the insufferably hip (“Darling, was that a pin drop I just heard the DJ play?” “No, I just dropped my swizzle stick”) dubbed, insufferably enough, Procedure. It will occur the first and third Tuesdays of every insufferable month, starting in the most insufferable month of all, April, which means the first Procedure is this very week, on April 5. Where? At Local 16, 1602 U Street NW, starting at 9 p.m. Admission is the way Hearsay likes it: Free. But anyone beneath the special age of 21 had best stay home watching reruns of Scrubs….
And finally, this just in on the Hearsay Wire from last weekend’s Winter Music Conference in sunny, funny Miami, where the noise level remained at a steady audible BOOM BOOM BA BOOM all weekend long. Hearsay’s sources report that local girl made good, Rachel “Penne” Panay was escorted to the weekend’s International Dance Music Awards by Cobalt’s own Ashley “Dreamweaver” Wright and Jason “Blast from the Past” Royce. The pair reportedly spent time in the fabled green room with Kelly Osbourne and Macy Gray, both of whom reportedly broke into an impromptu duet of music from “Oklahoma.” Sadly, Panay didn’t win for Best New Dance Artist Solo. That honor instead went to Eric “Spelling Was Never My Strong Suit” Prydz, who won for his cheesy, no talent Steve Winwood cover of some song that isn’t even worth buying let alone listening to. Hey, now here’s an idea! Let’s give Prydz’s music to Richard Chartier! He’ll put it on the turntable and just let it sit there and spin, needle-free, in glorious, insufferable silence!….
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