 |
|
Tne of the greatest joys of watching a drag performance comes when something is revealed rather than concealed, when all of the makeup and accessories allow the expression of a previously hidden talent.
Years ago, I experienced such a moment as I watched a taping session of The Cherie and Yolanda Show. After an hour or so of playing the part of The Big-Boned Bimbo Blonde in counterpoint to Cherie Tartt's relatively mild-mannered Midwestern refugee, Yolanda picked up her guitar, turned to the audience, and delivered a beautiful rendition of her song "Angels."
In the following years, Yolanda established herself as a serious presence on the Burlington music scene. While songs such as "The Sickness of Beauty" and "Alien Love Child" offered humorous takes on the transvestite life, "Cool Intellect," "Right to Surrender" and others demonstrated Yolanda's stylistic range.
The diversity and raw intensity of Yolanda and the Plastic Family is faithfully captured on the upcoming Welcome to Yolanda World. From the opening reggae strains of "Scary" to soulful ballad "Right to Surrender," the disc offers music for nearly all tastes. The Plastic Family — Cooper Hesby/Adam Wood on keyboards, Jonny Ace Private Eye/Jon Ackland on fretless bass, Willy Tanglewood/Eric Rorbach on drums, Tommy Hologram/Tom Hengelsburg on guitar, and Rainbow/Martha Seyler assisting with vocals — shifts competently from torch song to cha-cha.
Noticeably missing are the driving disco beats that propelled fellow gender-bender RuPaul to the top of the dance charts. This comes as a great relief, as it allows Yolanda to step outside the stereotype normally associated with drag queens and club acts. The attitude is still there, as big and boisterous as the most bountiful Yolanda wig. But now and again, the pretensions slip away to reveal the heart behind the hair.
Drag — good drag, at least — takes more than showmanship. It takes courage and incredible honesty. "Because I'm emotional/you think I have no control," Yolanda sings in "Scary," the first track on the disc. She pushes further: "Why are you so afraid of me? Cause I'm so scary." The last line is delivered with sinister glee, more a statement than a question, an acceptance of the power inherent in being "queer" or different.
She looks for similar self-awareness in other songs as well. There's a semi-ironic ode to makeovers, "The Sickness of Beauty", in which she sings: "The sickness of beauty is the disease I have/ I spend all day beautifying myself/I spend hours on makeup/I work hours at the gym/because I'm hoping and praying that I'm attractive to him." Wry humor runs just underneath the surface of the piece and lets us hear both sides: the commercial appeal of cosmetic surgery and the lack of self-esteem which might lead one to consider it.
If such demons exist in Yolanda's own character, she isn't afraid to dance with them once in a while. The charged funk of "Let Me Love You" finds the singer once again looking for love, but this time asserting her own human nature: "My sexuality has no boundaries/But I'm strong enough to face/coming out of your hiding place." Love becomes an encouragement, a temptation, almost a dare. Most of all, it demands the same forthrightness and confidence which typifies Yolanda from the start of the disc.
These qualities find their perfect outlet in the strength of her voice. Both melodic and husky brazen and beautiful, it reminds the listener of two other famous crooners from the queer contingent: Boy George and George Michael. Her vocals take center stage on nearly every track, and while backup vocals by Rainbow add a beautiful counterpoint, they sometimes seem superfluous to the arrangements.
Most of the songs on the disc have the feel of live performance, which makes the CD the perfect souvenir of a Plastic Family concert. Even so, one might hope for deeper interpretations of the material, for more complex treatments and development. Obviously, these will come with more time and commercial success.
This is particularly evident with the two versions of "Angels" presented on the disc, one "electric" and one "acoustic." The electric version pushes the song to a new and rather over-reaching level, something more akin to the encore of a stadium concert. I preferred the acoustic treatment; perhaps out of nostalgia for the first time I heard it performed.
The disc wraps up with "Alien Love Child," a wonderfully demented song in which the drag queens explores the very origins of her own preference for women's clothing. She dreams of life on another planet, a better place to which she plans a return: "I see the beauty of a home/that accepts rather than condemns/and I know that someday/I'll be in my lingerie/and dancing with the aliens."
That planet —Yolanda World? — sounds a lot like this world could be if it would ever choose to live up to its potential. With that in mind, the familiarity of the musical styles on Welcome to Yolanda World comes as something of a comfort. We don't have to go far to discover what's deep within our own hearts, or to find better ways to accept and respect one another. This message alone makes the disc worth its weight in lame; the stellar performance of Yolanda and the Plastic Family makes it worth ten times that.
