Something I don't fully understand about myself is that if I have a massive binge-drink mid-week and don't get sick or hungover, I feel like I've done something really clever. Something else I don't fully understand about myself is how I spent my childhood hating spinach with a burning passion, and now quite enjoy it if it's uncooked, baked, or quickly wilted in a very hot pan.
But all that is secondary to the fact that I saw the Scissor Sisters at Koolhaus last night and it was transcendent. They make me dance. Their music and stage presence is like a gun shooting bullets at my feet while they laugh and taunt me, and I adore them. They brought it - they were good live, musically speaking - and they had a bit of a high energy sexy cabaret going. In fact it reminded me of what it's like to watch male strippers - Jeebus, haven't done that in three or four years now. And that wasn't just because of Jake Shears, that singing, dancing aphrodisiac; it was also Ana Matronic. Despite "Tits on the Radio" being one of my favourite songs off the first CD, I hadn't fully got what she did until I saw her live. Oh, Miss Matronic.
The only bad things were that it was too short, the coat-check retrieval was purgatorial and Toronto audiences are a pack of fat fucking shitbirds. I mean, it's the Scissor Sisters, it's the phoenix rising out of the corporate-torched ashes of 30 years of danceable pop, and most of the people right in front of the stage were standing stubbornly immobile, holding recording devices and being great big wankers. I had such a great time with the people I went to the show with that I started realizing how much I'd miss them. But whenever I feel too homesick, I'll make an effort to remember what twats Toronto audiences are, that wall of Immovable Objects with their inappropriate clapping at the symphony and their falling asleep at the opera.