Few people have tried to entice the local gay crowd more avidly than Fairy Fay. Entertainment-wise, that is. Start with that name, and move swiftly to the names he/she handchose for her/his bandmates: Polly, Wally and Doodle. Then on to the band’s name, Spunky Gal.
Yet when a mining-camp conflagration like this tries to work its rainbow magic at the Bullfinch, the only audience members rubbing their legs together are the crickets.
Why is this? Not because our beloved Bullfinch has somehow been pinched in the homo-friendly scene gene. Plenty of performers and patrons there are out themselves, or fellow travelers, or comforting or comfortable or curious. The percentage of actual closed-minded bigots is admirably low.
But the very open-mindedness which makes the Finch a hotbed of diversity can make it a lousy place for the, shall we say, excessively stylized. Heartwrenchingly sincere acoustic songs work well there. So do shouty garage anthems. So do long blues-rock jams. Raw rules there. Tightly-wound mechanical-beat leather-and-lace theatrics? Not so much.
More’s the pity, since FF and his devoted doodles in SG need and deserve a venue fit for their fetching flitting. They have this one song where they teach an original hip-waggling dance move to the assembled throng (or is that thong), and the attempt falls as flat as Fay’s brassiered chest when the crowd’s, you know, just not that into him (her). Fay’s personal brand of prissiness is simply too pushy for the laid-back louts at the Finch. And forget Hamilton’s, with its frat-boy swagger and stunted coming-of-age comings and goings. Too risky.
There are dedicated gay clubs in town. Some of them even have stages and not just bar counters which they convert into fashion runways at the drop of a garter. By his own admission, Fairy Fay has become delicata non grata at the joints which are most appropriate for his performances. He tells one version of the fall-out, they tell another, and it’s not ours to judge whether the truth is here or there, just that Fay cannot play there.
There is no doubt that he is a demanding, if diminutive, person. But Fay’s also a fine and fierce performer. Unlike a lot of local acts we could name, Fay rehearses a lot. Fay shines before a large and appreciative crowd, but gets surly when forced to appeal to those who don’t want him there. Think we’re being hard on him? In his own words: “I do a very specific thing for a specific type of person. I don’t need to do it for anyone else for the simple reason that it won’t get them off.”
We think he was talking about his music there.
Other sounds going around: Kinflicks opens the Bastard Out of Carolina tour stop at Dollaire’s Tuesday… Darkness falls, as usual, for High School Rock Nite at Hamilton’s Wednesday, with Regeneration, Ready to Catch Him Should He Fall and Rubyfruit Jungle… Fried Green Tomatoes reunion Thursday afternoon where one of the old folkies works in the kitchen, at the Whistle Stop Café downtown near the train tracks. Come by 4 p.m. and get free fries, we’re told… Curious Wine and Boys on the Rock Thursday at Hamilton’s, a rare double-bill of original bands at the covers-conscious club… Dream Boy, Dancer from the Dance and Stone Butch Blues mixed-style marathon at the devil-may-care Bullfinch Saturday. Last time Dream Boy played there, he enlisted the Three Junes as back-up singers for his doo-wop plaint “Halfway Home,” but we’re pretty sure the sisters won’t be around this time since they have a gig same night at the Family, Country & Woods restaurant out in Francoeur… Front Runner and Sacred Lips of the Bronx tough-guy show at Hamilton’s Friday… and that’s more than enough scene love for now. Except we really do need to find Fairy Fay a place to play.