On “Shaken & Stirred” at the Delancey

(July 28, 2010)

(Every Wednesday at the Delancey)

Half the lottery of going to a burlesque show is the crowd. What can you say when it’s d-baggy? The Slip thrived on random Saturday night UWS tourists and bridge-and-tunnel bachelorette parties—proof that everyone loves burlesque, even all of those who—cough—love it for the wrong reasons. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about people who came for the free shots and literally tune out the free ti-tays. Yes, it happens. And you just want to smack ‘em. And it’s a friggin’ shame, because Runaround Sue is running a fantastic little show on the LES that is neither stage nor floor—it’s banquette.

The Delancey is one of those fantastic joints with several spaces—a downstairs lounge, an upstairs roof bar which is fantastic in the summer, and a main level with a standard long bar, and even even a small lounge hidden on the far end of the bar. You’ve probably been dragged here on a Saturday night and been pushed testicles to elbow with a bunch of hipsters frenetically trying not to dance. I know I have. It’s one of those places that I would probably love if I bothered to find a decent DJ spinning there—but we all know that’s hard to come by, especially if you’re a vinyl snob. I digress.

Dig the setup: sit at the bar and gaze longingly at your old friends, lined up, as usual, in front of a large mirror. Gaze deeply into the mirror—directly behind you is an extra large red-banked banquette, a disco ball hung above it, and a ghetto parcan with faded amber gel pointed right at it. now turn around and take an even closer look: a dancer on the banquette will be backed by a straight-up stripper mirror flanked by wood slats like Venetians, and dotted by disco ball goodness. Now turn back around, order a drink, and tip heavily—Big Dave is an exquisite bartender whom I’ve known for years from my seedy local. He pays attention to his patrons as if he doesn’t know he’s in New York, never forgets what you’re having, and can—or used to be—convinced to do some “Cocktail”-style flipping with a fire-breathing finale.

Scooter Pie hosts the first set and is run roughshod over—the crowd is young, overly-tattooed, and drunker than mules on steroids. They would honestly rather yell than listen, which I dig, but aren’t subdued by Scooter’s ridiculous body and the gold skirt that doesn’t even cover it, which I just can’t fathom. But whatever—it’s a big night, as Sue’s been Runnin’ Around Europe and it’s her first night back. She throws down a classic piece in a gold dress, biting the gloves with sharp teeth, sporting a tight red corset and 50s-era bullet bra, working down to heart-shaped pasties with tassels. A pro.

Sue has brought along some of her Richmond, VA mafia—Deepa Dujour works it to som psycho surfabilly, ripping out of a grass skirt. Later, we’re treated to a belly dance tradition warped by the addition of aggressive, guitar-driven rock, as Deanna Danger slays it, shaking out of silver bangled skirts. Girl’s got some skills, and we’ll get to see her at the NYBF in October. Make sure you check out the tiny bat-shaped tattoos at the top of the back of her thighs; they spawn thin lines that run the length of her legs—the seams of stockings, permanently inked in.

Legs Malone joined us, a performer who seems to have figured it out—short songs equals short acts. Get in, get out, make it funny, make it succinct. And she doesn’t miss.

But my particular wow of the evening came from the mini dynamo Scooter Pie. I’d previously only seen her gogo, and for this performance she completely blew my mind in choice of music. “Be Sweet,” from the legendary Afghan Whigs’ album “Gentlemen.” I had to ask her, “how old were you when this song came out?” and was surprised—I would have guessed that she was barely born. Here’s some seriously ass-kicking music that is all but forgotten, and never seen in burlesque. Hats off to Scooter—and she took it a step further with lip synch action, NOT wearing a wig for once, sporting short-cropped red hair, and putting some serious attitude into the room, shimmying behind and out of gauzy, minimalist garments, biting her gloves off and chewing with verve and disdain. Between the music and her heavy gaze, I got the creeps, and the a-hole crowd actually calmed the fuck down and paid attention. Turns out a little mid-90s alt rock and a girl with a ‘tude was exactly what was needed.

Quickly followed by Runaround Sue, with her absolutely infectious glee, passing out the free shots courtesy of Huckleberry vodka. Also worth noting that this shows is available for viewing over the interweb courtesy of NYCliverock.com.

Though I recommend coming in person. Please. This is a really fun party in search of a better guestlist.

Kiss kiss,

JDX