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Well. That was a party. That was certainly a party. Who knew we
could turn it out so well on a Friday night? Who knew the whispering
on the streets had become such a deafening roar? My God, we walked
into mayhem -- and it was just after eleven. There was a line out in
front. A very happy line of boys waiting to get in. Already smiling.
So that was a clue. And then inside, where we turn the corner past
the velvet curtain -- and there he is: JOON-YAH.
The place was bumping and it wasn't even midnight. Packed with boys
and the lights nicely dim and flashing dark and peace signs dangling
from the ceiling and Junior is on a roll, already. He's doing the
bounce thing, a speedy kind of bounce and he's got the crowd
working. They're already in full throwdown mode -- and we haven't
even peaked.
We weren't expecting this. I was hedging my bets, thinking that if
things didn't work out we could always do a late dinner. Ha. Well,
dinner wasn't in the picture last night. No dinner: it was all about
the party.
This is not a big club. It's more like the club you might rent for
your anniversary party. Your birthday. And that's how it felt: like
everyone had something to celebrate. Junior especially. Why was he
so on? He loves his New York family. And they? They were all there
for him.
And almost every ten minutes, there's a cheer going up, his name
shouted out. He was rolling something fierce. Maybe we might have
forgotten how good he can be when he's good. We hadn't heard him
since New Year's Day (at the dearly-departed second Sound Factory --
Rest In Peace). Four months ago. In the interim it's been all about
Abel. But to hear Junior again. God, he loves what he does when he's
doing it right. He was moving in the booth. The tambourine in hand.
Shaking it for the masses.
And that family of his. It's way more diverse than our circuit
crowd. More diverse than our Alegria boys. It's a family of all
sizes and shapes. A tribe of many species. We're not just one breed.
One size fits all? No, no, no. We're the boys who dress and the boys
who hustle and the porn boys and the fashionista girls and the track
suit boys and the banjee boys and the boys from the street and the
Queer Eye boys and the Dolce Gabbana boys and boys of many colors,
so many beautiful shades of skin and the dark-eyebrowed boys and the
Vick 7 boy and the steroid boys and the large boys and the skinny
boys -- and we're all there celebrating Junior's latest incarnation.
He is just working it out. Oh, he's got something there. It's like
he knows that we know it's been a hard year and who can read the
headlines and who wants to listen to the news and the only thing to
do is dance. He's making sure we dance. He's making us move. He's
doing things with his music which move it from a speedy bounce which
seems like a combination of New York adrenaline and spring fever
into something deeper. Confident giddiness. Buoyant moodiness.
And there's not a lick of bad attitude. The floor is packed. Way too
packed. And at one point the fire marshall is escorted through the
club. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Make way, gentlemen." And we're
thinking, Uh, oh; here comes the boom. But then he's gone. Paid in
full, apparently, and on the party goes, and on goes Junior, more
empowered than ever.
Not a lick of bad attitude, in spite of the crowding. It's too many
people for the club, like the anniversary party you had and invited
too many for the little space you rented. And people are bumping
into each other, but almost always it's with a smile and a shrug.
Who can be bothered about bumping when the music's this good? There
are smiles everywhere. It's a very happy family. What's happening
here? A convergence of Junior in the house again with the release
from winter and spring in the air and summer straight ahead. All the
best to come and we're enjoying it right now.
Sexy happy people and two are doing it in the bathroom. There's a
twosome behind the men's room door, where the door makes a secret
room in front of two urinals and they're full on into it and the
short one says, "Stop looking at him and keep fucking me." And then,
"So where do you live?"
Hotty boys having fun. On the stage and in the lounge where it's
more like a stage set for the ones who want to walk and kiki and
vamp along the walkway between the banquettes. Werk it off,
children. Junior's making you move.
He was good. Strange World and Cyndi and Who Do You Love and ask the
Jenkins' girls about the rest. Set list forthcoming, no doubt
(though not from us).
At one point, Robert says, "They're really letting loose, like it's
a one-time thing and not a weekly party." It's true that Junior's
opening nights are pretty fabulous affairs. That opening of Earth at
Exit two years ago? God, what a party. And last night, it was that
kind of intense in a space less than a quarter of Exit's size -- but
the enthusiasm was comparable. Junior's family loves him right back.
And when we left at four a.m. Junior was shaking that tambourine.
Still making it happen, girl knows how to do it right.
Big thanks and big love to all those who made it so much fun for
all.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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