"There's the top 10 female vocal artists of our time," Barry Gibb once quipped, "and then there's Barbra Streisand."
I love this performance for 5 reasons:
05 How often do we hear a male singer take on the higher harmony in a male-female duet? Trust a Bee Gee to flip musical convention - and on Barbra, at that.
04 This is so rhythmically complex, it makes Rihanna's songs sound like nursery rhymes. And yet, as many rhythmic "acts" as this song contains, it never once sounds overworked. It skips and glides and cartwheels like an expert cheerleader. Effortlessly. That hanging phrase in the end is the equivalent of a wink, saying: "Piece of cake! But don't we all know just how much talent and artistry it takes to write a song like this and make it sound easy?"
03 Barbra tried to dance. Oh no she didn't? Oh yes she did.
02 Barry Gibb made Barbra truly werq for it, and what fun it is to watch over and over again! Barbra never sounds like the lesser singer in any duet - just ask Celine Dion. Gibb clearly had the edge here. And he better, seeing how he wrote the damn thing!
01 This song proved, Barbra Streisand is human. She sings funky notes, too, just like the rest of us. She sounds awkward, too, when you make her swing for notes across her rarely-used lower register. But as soon as you realize she remains unblemished despite this performance, you snap back to reality.
Barbra Streisand is a goddess,
Guilty is the carrier single in Barbra Streisand's twenty-second studio album, released on September 1980 by Columbia Records. It's her best-selling album to date with sales of over 12 million copies worldwide.
HIS NAME IS MOSES.
HE LIKED MY T-SHIRT, SO WE SNAPPED A PIC TOGETHER - WHICH HE THEN SENT TO ADAM LAMBERT.
WE HAVE NOTHING TO BE GUILTY OF.
Many in the LGBT community question the big hullabaloo surrounding Charice's coming out. Of course we still love and support her - nothing has changed; we could tell years ago that she was different anyway - that she's very likely one of us; we applaud her courage to come out into the open, etc. Really - darling, it's not a big deal! Shouldn't we therefore lead the charge towards the day when this type of announcement isn't newsworthy or necessary any more, by collectively having a more muted reaction?
But it is a big deal exactly because it is Charice. Here's why:
05 She defines celebrity today.
Certainly there have been other Filipino artists who have blazed a trail to international stardom. Lea Salonga is Broadway and Disney royalty. She is who she is thanks in part (a big part) to an elite group of taste makers. Producers, directors, critics - the Culturati.
In contrast, Charice is a product of self-promotion. She's a YouTube sensation. And she's relevant because she built and nurtured a massive following on her own long before influential taste makers came along to validate her talent. She's a true-blue internet celebrity.
Really, Charice shares more in common with Justin Bieber than she does with Lea Salonga. Lea and Charice are both Filipinos, but...
04 Charice is the new Pinoy. Relentlessly hardworking - sure. Insanely talented - absolutely. But also fearless, worldly, entitled and unapologetic.
She's got swagger. Brand Pinoy is so hot these days, it's cool. apl.de.ap. Nicole Scherzinger. Jessica Sanchez. Darren Criss. And speaking of Darren Criss...
03 Glee. Apart from Charice, who else has had guest appearances in this Emmy and Golden Globe-winning musical-dramedy television series?
- Olivia Newton-John
- Whoopi Goldberg
- Gwyneth Paltrow
- and Perez Hilton, also a true-blue internet celebrity.
Charice is in good company (hello, understatement!). Glee is arguably the most popular show about and amongst LGBT youth. There's no bigger platform for an LGBT role model than Glee. The only thing bigger than Glee is...
02 Oprah. Make that Oprah Winfrey and her ginormous sphere of influence. Once Oprah got into Charice's inner circle (we've already established that the taste makers are the late comers, in this case), the Celine Dion and David Foster connections were activated. Madison Square Garden, Las Vegas, Oscars after-parties, and an album that debuted at number 8 on the albums chart soon followed. To this day, Charice is the only Asian singer to have landed in the Top 10 of the Billboard 200.
She's still a long way away from Melissa Etheridge and k.d. lang - and for sure Sir Elton John belongs to an even higher echelon. But damn if Charice isn't breathing the same air as these gay music giants.
Before we start having unrealistic expectations about the music she'll be making from here onwards, though, let's be reminded that Charice is too much a product of new media. It's therefore unlikely that her music will take on an angst-y (artsy?) complexity, simply because she has arrived at the doorstep of the LGBT universe. It's very likely, however, that we'll start hearing a deeper layer of pain because...
01 She's estranged from her mother.
This, I feel, should be the crux of Charice's coming out story. My fellow Charice fans know too well that her mum, Racquel, was practically her shadow. It even seemed to me like the absence of a love interest in Charice's life was because there wasn't any physical or emotional space available for anybody else to maneuver - that's how tight they were (watch the video below).
So what happened?
The Philippine Star reports that Charice is presently staying in the house of a family friend:
“I left our home because that’s what I had to do for now. Now, I can enter a house where I can do anything [without anyone passing judgment]."
Charice then thanked what she called her "second family” for accepting her. In the next breath, she expressed hope that she and her mom and her grandmother will be able to sort things out and let bygones by bygones.
Woe be unto us, human beings, when judgment and rejection come from the first place we'd hope to receive love and affirmation instead.
Whilst we celebrate pockets of victory in our campaign for marriage equality, Charice, poster child for today's LGBT youth, is fighting a war we've had to endure for decades:
If you haven't yet heard about this event, where the fuck have you been?! From the logos on the e-flyer alone, everyone is involved. And so should you, if you - or a loved one - are a member of a sexual minority.
Here are 5 reasons why:
05 It's the fundraiser for Pink Season. It's easy enough to pass donation boxes donation around all year. But this one is an event.
04 It's at Shore Steak. We had a good run doing Fruits in Suits in Salon de Ning, so big thanks to The Peninsula Hong Kong! We're moving back to Central with this big 'do and we couldn't have found better partners to work with than Shore's Troy (GM) and Mark (MD). Shore is swanky but not stuffy. Just effortlessly chilled out.
03 It's an auction. Bid guilt-free on beautiful human beings as they go down the hammer. I feel like a proper pimp because my non-sexual wife, my best friend, and my boys are all up for auction. Each winning bid comes with dinner for two at an upscale restaurant plus a booster gift valued at a minimum of HK$1,500.
02 I'm the auction master. Laugh (at my expense, no doubt) and have a Hyperactive good time!
01 It'll be super nice to see you there.
Fruits in Suits and Mr Gay HK present Charity Bid-A-Date
May 21, 2013 (TUE) 6.30pm onwards
Shore Steak
3F The L Place
139 Queen's Road Central
Hong Kong
Doomsday sounds kinda exciting, we have to admit – even if it means none of us may be alive to read this. Having to contemplate the end of the world means we get to think about things we'd like to be doing during the Apocalypse, whilst the world is disintegrating faster than a sugar daddy's bank account.
So here's Hyperactive's Top 5 Rundown of Things To Do During Doomsday:
Have sex (with your husband, your fleshlight, yourself) first thing in the morning. Loud, passionate, unbridled sex. To hell with the neighbours. We're all dying, anyway, so might as well have an orgasm whilst Doomsday is happening. We can't think of a better way to go than to die mid-moan.
And if the world hasn't yet been destroyed by earth-shakingly furious fucking...
Have a big breakfast. You've just made gay porn; now, enjoy some food porn. Bacon. Eggs. Beans. Pork buns. Spicy noodles. Sausages. Smoked salmon. Cheese. Lots of cheese. Eat everything in the fridge, the cupboard, the fruit basket. Then wash it all down with good, strong coffee.
Is the world still intact? That sucks, coz now you have to head over to the office and pretend to work. But isn't the world about to end, anyway? You should then...
Delete EVERYTHING in your Inbox. To hell with those tasks that you have to bear like a spare tire in a gym full of Muscle Mary's! Laugh whilst gleefully hitting the DELETE button over and over again, until you've annihilated each of the 1,748 e-mails that are still waiting for some sort of response or action. The world is ending!! Grab a gong and dance like a heathen around the office.
If, after lunch break, your server is still humming perfectly (how supremely irritating!) as though impervious to the threat of the Apocalypse...
Hit the fire alarm. Turn on all the faucets in all the toilets, on all the floors. Cause a flood. Then, proceed to evacuate your colleagues to the nearest bar. The fire department will come, the cops will come, the building management will have loads to answer for, there'll be shit to pay. But you won't be there because it's the end of the world and you're smart enough to not be stuck in the office, so...
Walk calmly towards Psychic Jack for the usual Friday happy hour drinks. If the world does end, at least you'll be enjoying cheap drinks and some complimentary fried canapés. No use blowing a lot of cash. Save it for the afterlife – whatever that might be. Whatsapp all your friends with a bye-bye message, grab the hand of the one you love most, and express your love in the simplest, most honest way you know:
STEP1
PACK YOUR PRESENT IN A RE-USABLE CLOTH BAG.
(WE USED THIS ONE FOR GROCERY SHOPPING LAST NIGHT.)
STEP 2
PACK A PRESENT INSIDE A RECYCLED CARDBOARD BOX
THAT DOUBLES AS A CHRISTMAS TREE ORNAMENT!
STEP 3
AND THEN USE THAT SAME BOX, WHEN IT UNFOLDS, AS A CHRISTMAS CARD!
STEP 4
WHAT GOOD IS A BOX IF IT CONTAINS NOTHING?
THIS ONE CONTAINED VEGAN COOKIES, NATCH.
EARTH FRIENDLY.
STEP 5
AND AFTER ALL THAT ALTRUISM, THE *REAL* GIFT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BAG IS THIS:
A WOODEN TRAY OF 10 SUPERSIZED SHOOTER GLASSES,
EACH GLASS ABLE TO CONTAIN THE EQUIVALENT
OF THREE SHOTS.
// MERRY CHRISTMAS! //
THANKS TO ANGIE PALMER, JESSICA LEE & JODIE LI OF GR8LC
The worst progression of events that may happen when you really need to go is...
1. The toilet is locked, because this is Hong Kong. Toilets aren't meant to be used.
2. The toilet key is fucking missing, because someone is greedy.
3. When finally, you get to use the toilet, it won't bloody flush.
4. You get out, then another person goes in.
5. You have an event to go to straight afterwards but you're paranoid that you smell like shit.
Yesterday I started writing a eulogy to Whitney Houston. I was surprised that her death affected me as much as it did. I hadn't even met her, never got a chance to press her flesh. Anyhow, my first draft of my eulogy for Whitney got too dolorous and cliche and silly when all I wanted to say, really, was "R.E.S.P.E.C.T!" to Whitney Houston for having accomplished superhuman feats of vocal virtuosity. And along the way, she gave us brilliant flashes of inspiration. Every kid still wants to sing "I Will Always Love You" in every TV singing contest. Every drag queen still wants to be some sort of incarnation of Whitney in "The Bodyguard," with Kevin Costner on the side.
Whitney's death was as nebulous as you'd expect a music legend's to be. She was alone, at The Beverly Hilton, mere hours before she was scheduled to appear at a pre-Grammy gala. The timing couldn't have been better if it were staged.
The only buzzkill (pun not intended) was the pesky persistence and utter predictability of substance abuse or overdose, prescription or otherwise. She has been against her substance-related issues publicly for a while now, so unless there's a new spin, there's no story.
If we're going down the road of speculation, can we not show more respect by being more creative, at least? Why not speculate something wildly audacious, instead? Something that would honour Whitney's cockiness and fire and sex appeal. Rehashing a stale and drawn-out story on maybe or maybe not substance abuse has zero narrative value as a possible ending to the story of Whitney's life. Strike the idea. Whitney was the Queen of the Charts, the Queen of High Notes, the Queen of the Night, The Queen of the Nile, The Queen of an Oscar Winning Theme Song, the Queen of my fucking village. Nobody becomes a bona fide Diva until the homosexuals proclaim her so. And Whitney, who was every inch a Drama Queen, had tons of cred with the gays.
And so, to express my personal sense of loss for someone who was a musical treasure of humanity, in general, I'm presenting an entire week's worth of Whitney Diva Videos.
Astron's Top 5 Rundown™
of Favourite Whitney Houston Live Performances
05 WHEN YOU BELIEVE / 1999 ACADEMY AWARDS
WHITNEY HOUSTON AS MUSIC LEGEND.
SHE WAS A QUEEN OF POP, QUEEN OF THE CHARTS, QUEEN OF THE NIGHT, QUEEN OF THE NILE, QUEEN OF AN OSCAR WINNING THEME SONG, QUEEN OF EVERYTHING.
THE WHITNEY HOUSTON - MARIAH CAREY DUET WAS A MUSICAL COUP, THE LIKES OF WHICH REMAIN UNMATCHED. IT WAS WIDELY ANTICIPATED TO BE A BATTLE BETWEEN THE BEST BELTERS IN THE BUSINESS. I HONESTLY DREADED IT 'COZ I FEARED THE VERY LIKELY POSSIBILITY THAT THE SONG WOULD BECOME NOTHING BUT A RACE TO MAKE THE MOST COMPLEX RUNS AND A FIGHT TO HIT THE HIGHEST NOTES.
WHITNEY'S VOCAL POWER HAD PERCEPTIVELY ERODED FROM YEARS OF MORE-THAN-AVERAGE WEAR AND TEAR. YET, EVEN IN THE LATER STAGES OF HER CAREER, SHE DELIVERED A CONFIDENTLY EXPRESSIVE PERFORMANCE THAT MATCHED - IF NOT EXCEEDED - MARIAH CAREY'S. IT WAS A DELIGHT TO SEE WHITNEY PLAY UP HER ROLE AS "MUSIC LEGEND" RATHER THAN SLUG IT OUT AGAINST MARIAH IN A TACKY SCREAM-FEST THAT NOBODY WOULD WANT TO LISTEN TO.
PROPS TO BOTH LADIES FOR HAVING KEPT THEIR CRED INTACT AND EMERGING ALL THE BETTER FROM THE SHARED EXPERIENCE.
THIS CEMENTED WHITNEY'S PLACE IN HISTORY AS THE BENCHMARK FOR EVERYONE ELSE WHO SINGS, IN GENERAL.
04 ALL THE MAN THAT I NEED / 1991
WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A SUPERSTAR.
THIS IS CLASSIC WHITNEY, AS I'D LIKE TO REMEMBER HER: EXPRESSIVE, CHARISMATIC, GENEROUS, SUBLIME, AND IN PERFECT CONTROL OF THE MOMENT.
WHITNEY UNDERSTOOD HER RESPONSIBILITY TO HER FANS PERFECTLY: SHE SHAMELESSLY FED OFF OF THEIR ADORATION; THEY GREEDILY FED OFF OF THE LIGHT OF HER SUPERSTARDOM.
03 I HAVE NOTHING / 1994 SOUTH AFRICA
WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A DIVA
(WITH ALL THE ESTEEM AND BAGGAGE THAT THE TITLE BEARS).
COCKY. DANGEROUS. SLURRING HER WORDS AND GLIDING IN HEAD-TO-TOE GOLD LIKE A (FABULOUS) DRUNK ACROSS THE STAGE. IN REALITY, SHE WAS WOBBLING ACROSS A HIGH-WIRE ACT THAT COULD HAVE EITHER REINFORCED HER GENIUS OR HERALDED HER SPECTACULAR FALL FROM GRACE.
THIS WAS AUDACITY ON THE PRECIPICE OF INSANITY.
SHE WAS LUCKY TO HAVE HAD ENOUGH PRESENCE OF MIND TO AT LEAST FINISH THE NUMBER.
02 SAVING ALL MY LOVE FOR YOU / 1985 THE DAVID LETTERMAN SHOW
WHITNEY HOUSTON AS A PRODUCT.
WHITNEY HAD AN INSTANT EMOTIONAL CONNECTION WITH HER AUDIENCES, WHICH SHE PARLAYED INTO YEARS OF LOYAL FOLLOWING. SHE WAS SEXY AND YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL. SHE WAS KIND OF IN WITH THE COOL CROWD, TOO, BECAUSE SHE WAS SO INSANELY TALENTED, IT WAS NUTS.
SHE DIDN'T HAVE ANY COMPETITION.
SHE WAS KNOWN AS THE "BLACK BARBIE" - A MASS-MARKET PRODUCT WITH PERFECT DESIGN, PACKAGING, PRICE, DISTRIBUTION, AUXILIARY REVENUE STREAMS. SHE WAS "SAVING ALL MY LOVE" IN EVERY LIVING ROOM IN AMERICA.
SHE WAS MARKETING MAGIC.
(PARIS HILTON'S OTHERWISE COMPETENT MARKETING STRATEGISTS ASSUMED THAT THEY COULD EASILY TAKE PARIS ON A SIMILAR ROUTE. THEY PACKAGED THE HEIRESS AS SOME KIND OF A "PRINCESS DIANA SLASH MARILYN MONROE OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM" - A GOLDEN GIRL OF THE MASSES. EXCEPT EVERYONE KNEW THAT PARIS WASN'T B ANY STRETCH A COMMONER; SHE BELONGS TO A DEEPLY ENTRENCHED AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY THAT COUNTS THE VANDERBILTS AND THE KENNEDYS AND THE HILTONS. WHAT KIND OF A BIG, FAT AND GROSS LEAP OF IMAGINATION DID THEY EXPECT THE PUBLIC TO TAKE? PEOPLE ARE SMART ENOUGH TO SNIFF A FISHY GIMMICK. THE CAMPAIGN BOMBED BECAUSE PARIS HILTON DOESN'T POSSESS ANY OF THE INTRINSIC VALUES THAT WERE KEY TO MARILYN MONROE'S AND PRINCESS DI'S MAGIC. SHE REFLECTS NOTHING OF THE BELOVED CLASSICS - CERTAINLY, SHE DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING NEW TO OFFER, EITHER - THAT'S WORTH AN UPDATE. SHE SHOULD FOCUS ON SELLING HER PERFUMES AND REAL ESTATE. THERE, HER FAMILY NAME HAS INTRINSIC BRAND VALUE. I DIGRESS. SORRY ABOUT THE LONG FOOTNOTE.)
01 ONE MOMENT IN TIME / 1989 THE 31ST GRAMMY AWARDS
WHITNEY AS A GODDESS.
THEME SONG OF THE 1988 SUMMER OLYMPICS, "ONE MOMENT IN TIME" WAS WHITNEY'S DEFINITIVE POWER BALLAD. IT WAS HAD A TRIED AND TESTED FORMULA OF SOARING, SEARING AND SAPPY DISTINCTLY "INSPIRATIONAL" FEEL TO EXPRESS THE TRIUMPH OF HUMANITY OVER ADVERSARY. ITS ORCHESTRAL SWEEPS, BIG-SONG MELODY AND A GINORMOUS KEY CHANGE TOWARD THE END SHAMELESSLY SOLICIT A STANDING OVATION.
WHITNEY MADE IT WORK. SHE SURE SOLD IT LIKE IT WAS NOBODY'S BUSINESS. IT WAS HER 10TH TOP 10 HIT ON THE BILLBOARD HOT 100. IT WON AN EMMY AWARD, BUT ULTIMATELY, WHITNEY LOST THE FEMALE POP VOCALS GRAMMY AWARD TO TRACY CHAPMAN'S "FAST CARS."
WHITNEY, CLAD IN ALL THE TRAPPINGS OF OLYMPIC GLORY, WAS AND ALWAYS WILL BE A BEAUTIFULLY MORTAL GODDESS.
//
WE COULDN'T RIGHTLY EXPECT DEAR, OLD WHIT TO LIVE OUT OUR DRAMATIC FANTASIES FOR AS LONG AS WE WANT. EVEN CHER HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HER OWN DRAMA, SHE'S MOVED ON TO CHAZ'S, INSTEAD.
WHITNEY HOUSTON HAS DONE HER FAIR BIT, AND THEN SOME. SHE WAS A HOT, SWEATY MESS TIL THE END OF HER DAYS. SHE WAS A *PROPER* DIVA - NOT JUST FOR THE DAY BUT FOR THE REST OF TIME, NATCH.
The news of Amy Winehouse's death was the single spot of darkness throughout my weeklong birthday celebration.
Sure, Amy was a drunk and a druggie. Sure, she was a hot mess whose time on God's green Earth was obviously limited. Sure, she was beyond saving.
But with her outrageous beehive that reportedly kept many "delights," her lay-it-all-onstage philosophy that revealed all traces of her experiences in her voice, and the sheer power of her unique talent, she was an unarguable musical genius of my generation. And no matter how messy she got, she always - whenever she humanly could - sang live.
Like Amy, I also love the blues. I, too, am a hot mess. I've had a beehive, too, honestly:
Well, it was Fabiola, really, but you get the picture.
Yup, Amy. You and I have had our ugly moments...
Only difference between Amy Winehouse and myself is, I've gone on to channel my hot-mess-ness to hyperactivity. Amy has gone on to the grave.
I was seriously distraught when news of Amy's death greeted me first thing on my actual birthday. Just prior to her death, people had all but dismissed her as a has-been. It's a small triump to see that Amy's records are doing so well once again.
Isn't it a pity that, often, we only realize the true value of something once it's been taken away?
Astron's Top 5 Rundown™ Best of Amy Winehouse:
05 Teach Me Tonight
Saucy, sassy, sexy. Love Amy's slight sneer.
04 Rehab
Classic Amy. Defiant, with that sultry, little dress and blood-red lip.
03 Someone to Watch Over Me
She's my soulmate here. Smooth, expressive, sublime.
"Talk to me," I urged Michael Lam, ringleader of Hong Kong University's Queer-Straight Alliance. "What is tonight's event about?"
"Just a term-end party," he dimpled.
As if on cue, Venus Tjang, QSA's "Top Vadge" arrived bearing armloads of croque monsieur and sausage rolls.
"I chose the food to go with the theme," she shared.
And then two pink-haired coeds sexily sashayed in. I blinked, wondering if perhaps they thought they were walking into a frat party. It turned out to be my non-sexual wife, Emma and hot schoolteacher, Thia.
We drank (well, I did) like alcohol's going out of fashion, we gorged on prawn crackers and pizza, we did a round of Paradise Mango Rum shooters (thanks, Dan), and we downed even more alcohol.
I don't remember much of anything else.
***
I've recently gotten addicted to Survivor, which shows time and again how powerful two people who trust each other completely can be. (See Romber.)
Barry and Fred are T:ME Bar's power couple. Fred was a super-awesome help with the set-up, festooning the bar with pink tulle and feathers. And after we had pink-ified the entire place, Barry and Fred tag-teamed welcoming the guests, all of whom they seemed to know by name. When the thirsty weekend crowd started packing the place to the rafters, guess who was keeping silence in the neighbourhood, bussing drinks and still entertaining guests with warm welcomes and beautiful smiles? Barry and Fred.
I dunno what time I turned into a pumpkin (boo!), but when I did, I might have thrown my wine glass over to the construction site and I might have pulled awful monster faces. Tsk.
So I went home to watch more Survivor.
Have a happy VaGation, kids.
With Affection,
James
Post-script: Pink Fridays® is Mr Gay HK's signature Happy Hour, which happens every final Friday of the month.
I love American Idol, I really do. I watch it religiously. Much as I resist the show as consumerist and corny, I helplessly fall to the producers' machinations, anyway. Who doesn't love a good sob story? Who doesn't love a Judges' Save? Who doesn't love Ryan Seacrest's orange face?
Beyond all that, there have been some truly tremendous talents that have come out of the show. It just sucks that what seems like a promising career during the show's run eventually fizzles out, but that's just the harsh truth of the entertainment industry. Unless you win - and there's only one - you'll forever be branded a loser. And that's not a good reputation with which to begin one's career. J-Hud is the exception rather than the rule.
Winning isn't even a guarantee of stardom. Remember Ruben Studdard, Taylor Hicks or Lee DeWyze? Neither do I.
If you didn't start out as a baby, like Britney and Xtina, then you gotta bust your ass working non-stop like Rihanna and Lady Gaga. You gotta be a machine. Take your cue from J.Lo. Take no prisoners. Pimp yourself non-stop. Records, appearances, movies, TV, product endorsements, gossip rags, everything. When you're starting, you can't be too choosy, hun. Take everything that comes your way and be grateful. People's attention span is just as long as a tweet, so if you're not constantly in their face, they forget. Idol is not a destination. It's only the beginning.
05 Diana DeGarmo / Don't Cry Out Loud
Damn, this girl is a machine. She can sang. That last note was gold. Breathtaking. Literally. I thought she was gonna pass out from holding that note forever and a day, but she would have passed out sooner from her soccer mom red stretch pants. Brava!
04 Katherine McPhee / Over the Rainbow
This girl does things to her voice that I didn't imagine was humanly possible. Shame about the unsavoury 'tude and the subsequent disastrous styling decisions. She could've been big. Really big. This performance blew my mind away. It was beautiful.
03 Melinda Doolittle / My Funny Valentine
I dunno how many times I've replayed this performance. It's brilliant. Melinda takes you to a place where your heart stops beating for a moment or two. This song has been done to death, but this remains my favourite rendition.
01 Clay Aiken / Bridge Over Troubled Water
The microphone stroking, the shoulder, the head snaps, the winks, the fuckin' gospel choir. Clay brought everything INCLUDING the kitchen sink. It was a cheesy, corny, carb-laden performance. This was hilarious. I don't know how else to describe it.
We've heard all about them. Big stars with even bigger egos. The unrealistic demands, the flashes of brilliance, the terrific tantrums, the unsettling fragility...
Fame is a funny thing. People whore themselves for it. And yet, when it finally arrives, they suddenly demand personal space. Privacy. They become desperate for it.
It's such fun to objectify stars because we feel like they're fair game. They belong to an elevated echelon of existence. They sort of live in this world, but not really. More like in a parallel universe where we can see them but never touch or speak with them. They are not human. They are simply apparitions that get constantly hounded by papparazzi and weirdo stalkers with guns. And even when shit happens, it's hard to dig for genuine sympathy. We simply shake our heads, say something pithy (because we always have to say something), then resume with our daily grind.
Nonexistent privacy is one thing. But what must be worse for a diva is the niggling knowledge that she's never gonna be as big as the diva before her, meanwhile, a new diva-in-the-making is already at her door step. Consider how Beyonce must have felt when Jennifer Hudson stole her thunder in Dreamgirls. Or consider how Rihanna must feel, sandwiched between Christina Aguilera and Lady Gaga. Christina Aguilera is so far ahead with experience, number of hits, and sheer talent; and Lady Gaga, who is a relative newcomer, has already caught up. Who will be the next Queen of Pop? Rihanna's self worth may just as well evaporate. In fact, it might already have. Why else would she be hiding under ugly red hair?
I'm enamoured with divas. I once aspired to become one. But unlike Cyndi Lauper, to whom fame didn't arrive 'til she was 30, I set my limit at 25. I still can't decide whether I chickened out or did a brave thing by starting from zero all over again. It's pointless to keep moaning about it, so I've decided to enjoy diva-dom vicariously. I religiously adhere to posting The Diva Video of the Day® - whatever the weather, wherever I may be. Isn't it happier this way?
A starlet must first fulfill Astron's Top 5 Rundown® of What Makes a Diva before she becomes one:
05 Create hits. Make us sing along.
04 Create a soaring power ballad that you'll always be know by. Make us cry.
03 Create a dance hit. Make us hot n' sweaty.
02 Create an image. Make us remember.
01 Create fans out of gay boys. Make us your army.
With Affection,
James
Radio Tour. 89.3FM Tuguegarao
Singing at the Press Conference for my first and only solo concert
"Last year, some guys were making each other drink beer from a shoe," Anna quipped.
"Ooh," I shuddered.
I saw a man in a white unitard pee against the wall. I took a video:
We started out quite civilized, actually - in a super exclusive corporate box.
And then things got better.
Somehow - and don't ask me how - we managed to cut through the line to the the notorious South Stand, where things got from hairy to hairier.
"Go away," Anna slapped the grubby hands of someone who tried to grab our styrofoam of takeaway chilli fried chicken.
"Hands on your cock, boys," a man queued for the toilets instructed, to the howls of approval from the male horde. "That's what you came here for!"
In front of me was a detached toilet seat. Behind me, someone puked.
"Pick me up," I texted Jaakko. "I can't find you guys, I'm between 118 and 119."
It was like an acid fantasy - colourful, trippy, nightmarish, fun.
And through it all, I managed to stay sober enough - I promise - to actually take notes. Here are...
Astron's Top 5 Rundown™ of Best SEVENS Costumes:
05 Burly gweilo dressed as a nun went to the urinals, lifted his habit and peed.
04 Three hairy frat boys dressed as Pam Anderson in Baywatch.
03 Fat gweilos dressed as a corps de ballet: 4 as the White Swan; 4 as the Black Swan.
02 Three bald gweilos dressed as Wonder Woman.
01 Four gweilos dressed up as refrigerators. They couldn't move.
In the end, I must have finished - oh, who knows! - a keg of beer.
I am Asia's Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™, and I'm hooked on the Hong Kong Sevens.
