June 2003

1st June 2003

Fine cabaret with a delicious twist

IF YOU happen to be heading to New York any time soon, make sure you check out Kiki & Herb, a cabaret duo currently wowing the West Village.

Kiki, better known as Justin Bond, plays a well-worn lounge singer who has dragged herself through four decades of showbiz to share her wisdom and musical repertoire. The humour is black and twisted with a sharp intellect, and the songs range from jazz greats to Eminem.

The jokes are delivered with incredible ease as Herb, on piano, pours more and more drink for his chanteuse. The confusing blend of jazz and trite Seventies classics into cutting-edge rap is unexpected and hugely original. The fact that all of it is hanged out on a piano adds another surreal edge.

I have always said that drag in New York is special because there is no social security. Getting money out of the US government ain't easy. If you want to eat and are unfit for regular employment, you have to get an act and make it sparkle.

IT WAS back to reality last weekend with a DJ jaunt around the south-west coast. Cornwall and Newquay were fun but by the time we reached Newport, the long weekend was taking its toll. The final club was full of young kids who wanted to hear familiar music and have conversations with me while I spun.

The place was half-empty and the bouncers wouldn't give us drinks or allow us a guest list. After an hour or so of being badgered, I picked up my records and headed for the hotel. My agent had the remainder of my wages ripped from his hands by the raging club manager. This kind of thing is rare but when will promoters get it into their heads that I am not a "hard house" DJ? More importantly, when will the punters realise that I am doing a job behind the decks and let me get on with it?

The bottom has really fallen out of the clubbing market and only a handful of clubs playing rubbish music are doing well. This bodes well for a huge turnaround in dance music because dance music is suffering as badly as pop music.

A couple of weeks back, I played one of my favourite gigs of the year in North Wales at a night called Future Funk. It's always reassuring to see the word "funk" on a club banner because you know that the crowd are going to be open-minded.

There is nothing so depressing as arriving at a venue after a long, hateful journey to find that you have wasted your time and make-up. Even more annoying are people who know absolutely nothing about music telling you that what you are playing is rubbish. We are, without doubt, living in a cultural vacuum.

CURRENTLY, I am preparing surreal and comic news flashes for my LBC radio show And Another Thing. The first one has already been done and probably won't go down too well with all the nasty nit-pickers in the oh-so-cool dance mafia. All I'll say is that it concerns a nationwide search for the whereabouts of dance journalist Gavin Herlihy's tongue - you'll have to tune in to the show if you're curious to know more. This should be followed by a book called How To Further Alienate Yourself And Stockpile Your Enemies. I am quite aware that I am my own weapon of self-destruction - but if you can't respond to the relentless jibes of your detractors, what's the point of being a queen?

8th June 2003

Does Blair's war spin have a spin?

MY NEIGHBOUR'S polished wood gate seems a rather impractical place on which to write a political statement but someone has done just that. It is beautifully written and rather shocking if there was any chance it might be true. It reads: "Media, I have audio evidence that proves Tony Blair and senior MI6 personnel planned to murder MP Clare Short because she exposed the real war spin."

Did whoever put it there do so because they thought it was my house, knowing that I write for this newspaper and thus see it as a chance to stir up some publicity? My road in Hampstead, London is well off the beaten track, badly lit and not in a prime position to make bold political statements.

This sort of thing does make you wonder if we are privy to many of the things that our Government and powerful organisations get up to. I wonder if the spin has a spin and if the spin's spin has its own private secretary? I am, it has to be said, an ardent conspiracy theorist. I do that that major skulduggery goes on and that things that are blown up in the media could very well be selected to distract us from more serious issues. One has to accept that even Labour, the so-called People's Party, is not without its Clare Short-comings.

LAST weekend I had one of the shortest visits to a foreign country. I was bound for Turkey to DJ in Bodrum, and left my house at 7am, arriving in Istanbul mid-afternoon. As soon as I got off the plane, I was surrounded by photographers and camera crews. They followed me through customs into the baggage hall and would not stop, despite taking hundreds of photos.

In my contract it states clearly that I do not want media at the airport but this clause was ignored. I would have forgotten the incident but the lug sent by the promoter kept saying: "They don't know who you are." It was amusing because they were not snapping pictures of anyone else. I looked like crap. I was annoyed and in no mood to be further insulted so told him to get rid of the photographers, who had enough photos to do a book already.

After a further attack of flashbulbs, I made the decision to jump on the next flight home. A very nice pregnant Turkish woman at the British Airways desk saved me from my Turkish hosts who were aggressively trying to convince me to stay. They attempted to delay me and tried to get a customs officer to stop me leaving.

At this point, I was ready to burst into tears and I was taken to a room where my passport was checked because it had no entry stamp. I had only 15 minutes to catch the last flight home and you cannot imagine my relief when I was finally in my seat. At that point, a steward approached me to say there was a problem with my luggage. My assistant Paul had to go down to the tarmac and check one of my bags. My electric razor had started buzzing and for three long minutes I thought I would never see Paul again. All sorts of hideous thoughts went through my head by Paul returned very relieved and the flight departed.

It was a shame becuase I love Turkey but after that experience I can't see myself ever accepting a gig there in the near or distant future. After giving Athens a second try recently and being ripped off by promoters, I decided that I would not be visiting that city or country again.

The first time Culture Club played in Athens, we got caught up in a political protest and had stones and bottles thrown at us. I guess as I get older the idea of living dangerously has lost its appeal. There are just as many ways a girl can get into trouble at home.

15th June 2003

Refugees deserve our compassion

I REALLY enjoy the late morning TV show Loose Women, if only because it proves that women are not always more compassionate than men. Last week, the controversial subject of asylum seekers was raised and some on the panel set off on a rant about how out of control the asylum system is. I have to say it made me wonder what planet they were living on. If we are to believe such a neurotic take on the situation, we are being overrun by aggressive, thieving foreigners who are out to bring our country to its knees.

Maybe we as a nation need to realise that, becuase of these views, many refugees enter this country knowing they are resented- something bound to give anyone a chip on their shoulder. I have several close friends who had to flee from the former Yugoslavia and I know for sure they'd much rather be living in the home that was stolen from them and the homeland they were forced to leave.

Add to this the fact that wealthy countries like ours have for centuries been pillaging poorer countries for natural resources. We still do. Maybe this is the price we pay for our unfair trading policies. When West Indians arrived here in the Fifties there was a similar panic - but who could imagine life without the wealth of cultural qualities that those hard-working people brought?

Apparently, just as many people emigrate from the UK as enter it and, if we are honest, there is plenty of room for us all to live comfortably and in harmony. The attitude of certain people is hideously racist and ridiculously neurotic. Maybe if we spent less money and fewer resources on destroying other countries we would have money for eductation and housing. Anyone who has lived on governement handouts will know that they are meagre and no one doing so is living like royalty. If only we could try a little harder to live in harmony with each other and be more compassionate.

ON AUGUST 3 I will be hosting Electrolux - a huge "Electro" event at the Electric Ballroom in Camden Town. It looks like being a spectacular shindig. The Electric Ballroom is one of London's seminal live venues and is under threat of closure because of London Underground's desire to redevelop Camden Tube station. The development will take seven years to complete and will mean a large chunk of Camden's funky street market will be no more.

I have already involved myself in the campaign to stop the devastation of one of the most interesting parts of London. Also on board are actress Dame Judi Dench and a committee has been set up by local traders.

Electrolux is just one of the many events that will celebrate the history of the Electric Ballroom and prove that it is worth preserving. It is important to modernise but not at the expense of character and history. London Underground claims that it needs to make the station safter but it has run successfully for many years and it is the kooky character of the area that continues to attract visitors. Anyone who has visited the once-swinging King's Road of late will see how development has destroyed the place.

Development schemes like the one proposed by London Underground always seem like a good idea but one rarely sees the real effect until it's too late. I interviewed the man behind the plans on my LBC radio show and he put his case across well. However, as a local resident, I have serious reservations. Do you want our capital to look like one of those over-developed American cities? If not, let your voice be heard - and soon.

22nd June 2003

Camp David gets old men frothing

There was a time when it would be commonplace to see such a headline over a picture of yours truly but David Beckham has now hijacked all things camp and it is his turn to receive the wrath of silly old men. This tirade by the former deputy Labour Party leader. Roy Hattersley, in the Daily Mail (that's Mail, not male) followed the news this week that David and Victoria are leaving Britain for sunny Spain.

Hattersley did his utmost to drag out his rant in the tedious Tory tabloid in a desperate bid to argue why Beckham is a bad influence on British youth - and he only just stopped short of labelling Golden Balls a "poofter". It is a measure of how dull things have become that Beckham can receive such a blasting for changing his hairstyle and spending too much time in Gucci. What does one need to do these days to really raise the hackles of the stylishly-challenged?

Those of us who enjoy a bit of scandal wish Beckham would receive the cultural "red card" more often. It's one of life's pleasures seeing the Establishment get their knickers in a twist over plaits, a sarong or nail polish on a man. Of course we all know its Posh and her crew of gay stylists that are screaming; "The Alice band, its got to be the Alice band."

But there's no harm done. It's a pity Beckham's attempts to get in touch with his feminine side haven't softened the edges of the football hooligans. Becks is essentially a nice boy who can kick a ball. He also seems to be great father and a loving husband. His move to Madrid will not diminish his popularity at home. You can bet we will see more hacks and paparazzi with healthy tans over the next four years. Roy Hattersley's comments are pure "Tory" and further prove that he only chooses to wave his socialist handbag when it suits him.

LAST SUNDAY, I played the first of two weekend dates at London's premier jazz club club, Ronnie Scott 's. Tonight I will be there again and I hope no one bothers to review it. I don't need to be told that I have held on to the bones of my career through charm and not because of musical talent. The fact that I can still work with zero radio support or a blink of recognition from my peers in the dance community is enough in itself. In fact, I would follow the Beckhams to Spain were it not so hot.

I am doing a number of live dates in the coming months but they are not part of some album promotion. In fact, it is a joy to be appearing on stage out of choice. A review of last Sunday's gig basically suggested that, as a songwriter, I'm a great comedian. That my lyrics are riddled with cliche and despite having an OK voice, I am about as musical as a tuning fork.

The journalist who wrote this was jumping around with a smile on his face and left telling my press agent that I was an "engaging personality". When I heard this, it filled me with unease and I was expecting the worst. It was like the time I heard two old blokes discussing me in a toilet at the Dorchester Hotel. "He's VFM (value for money), that Boy George, always turns it out," they chortled.

Call me ungrateful but such comments make me feel that my sense of humour has overshadowed my ability to create music. Perhaps the fault lies with the old cliche that having style equates to having no talent? In that respect, I have much in common with David Beckham, even if I don't look half as good in a white vest. But when it comes to camp, Beckham is pure fourth division.

29th June 2003

Why such a pickle over gay bishop?

THE Church of England is in a right old pickle over the appointment of a queer bishop. Canon Jeffrey John, who has served the Church for numerous years, has clearly become too powerful for some. Speaking to Anne Atkins - an outspoken conservative Anglican - on my radio show yesterday, it was clear that having an openly gay bishop could split the Church and pitch the traditionalists against the forward thinkers.

Mrs Atkins tried to suggest that the row over Dr John was not a "sexuality issue" - but she obviously takes me for some kind of fool. Her suggestion that Dr John is moving away from accepted doctrine seemed trite because he declared his sexuality a long time ago and if he has been distorting the fundamental facts, why has it only become an issue now?

Canon John's many supporters insist that rather than focusing on such unimportant matters of sexuality, the Church of England should get on with making its faith all embracing. It is a mystery to moi why any gay man or woman would want to be part of an organisation that condemns them but as Mrs Atkins told me: "Much of the scripture is ambiguous and open to interpretation."

Sadly, this does not extend to homosexuality but one wonders how or why this drama was made public. Mrs Atkins uses the old cliche "love the sinner but not the sin" and believes there is most certainly a place for queers in the Cof E, just not in the pulpit. My suggestion of flower-arranging, polishing the gold and cake-making did raise some laughter but she stuck to her rusty guns. Such attitudes only serve to cast a shadow of darkness and oppression over an institution that should offer light, wisdom and harmony.

If only Jesus could return to put an end to the stupidity that is acted out in His name. I don't know if I completely believe in the concept of God as the burn-in-hell merchants depict Him. I certainly don't discount the idea of an omnipresent entity and would be more convinced of His true worth if He had better PR on Earth. I remember being ranted at by a funny old Christian biddy in a Lurex cardigan at Speakers' Corner. "Spawn of Beelzebub, evil," she mumbled as I stood listening to her - puzzling and sadly dangerous logic. Mrs Atkins is clearly of logical mind and that makes her views all the more depressing.

FROM a figures point of view, my recent and first visit to Croatia was not succesful. The huge warehouse looked pitifully empty but those there seemed happy enough. However, Croatia was a friendly place, full of stunning men and equally pretty women and my hosts were adorable. Croatia is rather like Russia but with enough Italian influence to give it style. The men are all high cheekbones and steely glares and find it amusing to blow kisses at visiting homos. Or do I just bring out the clown in heterosexual men? They imagine that I am somehow flattered and fooled by their cheeky gestures and in my own perverse way, I am!

There are no gay clubs to speak of and those that exist are off the beaten track. Despite the lousy turnout, I would go back another time and have been asked to do a stint of gigs during the peak summer season. Don't know what it is about Slavs that spins me round like a record but they just do it for me.

They even had tofu on the hotel menu and the small crowd were very stylishly dressed. I think we paint a very wrong picture of most Eastern European countries and imagine them to be stuck in a timewarp. I have now visited Bosnia and Croatia and found both very cool and friendly. You might say I'm a "Slav to the rhythm".

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