Spoken What? An Evening at Winstons
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Pruitt Igoe was the name of this new band, after a housing project in St. Louis that was built in the late 60s and eventually “blown up after 10 years because the crime got so bad.” I was excited to be seeing something new (I like new things). Speaking and singing along with Ted would be Molly Wilmot, an opera singer (recently seen in Turandot, and I only recognized the name because my father saw the show and loved it – sometimes I can be so unsophisticated). What a treat! Playing back-up “music” would be Matt Kerr, Jon Cordova, and Are Jay Hoffman (not to be confused with R.J.).

As more friends arrived behind us, Ted kicked off his show by sitting alone on the stage, reading notes and poems scribbled on napkins and fliers from bars he’d bounced at. Sexual, political, angry, Ted’s words are one man’s view of the world around him. I love poetry for this very reason – you get to hear what people feel. I’ve read my poetry in front of crowds before, and each time I felt naked, yet exhilarated. We listened attentively to every word spoken, and an hour later, everything changed.

After a short break and some instrument set-up time, Pruitt Igoe was on… or was it? Molly and Ted were talking back and forth, a sort of dialogue, as electronic music and guitars blared behind them. At first, I couldn’t decipher the noise. Despite the fact that I had no idea what they were saying, I stared transfixed, mesmerized by the cacophony of sound surging from the stage. If you’ve ever eaten a hallucinogenic mushroom, you may have experienced that scary moment when words around you seem to change and mutate into another language – this is what I experienced. For a moment, I forgot what language I spoke, and I feared that if I attempted an utterance, I would surely embarrass myself among these speakers of another language.

I snapped out of my reverie as I began to recognize the random syllables for the words they were… Ted was repeating the word, “asses,” over and over, but he was pronouncing it, “AAAAHHHSSSSSSEEEESSSS;” and Molly was spouting a one-sided conversation, speculating as to why Ted insisted on repeating the word. Ah, SENSE! I could make sense of things, and finally, rather than being terrified by my own ignorance, I was intrigued, curious… where were they taking this? It didn’t matter, really. I finally realized that they were talking over a conversation they had previously recorded, hence that sensation I had that there were more than two voices coming from the stage. Molly did sing (I would have liked to hear more, her voice was so fluid and lovely). There were few moments that the music behind the two stopped long enough for me to comprehend most of the words being spoken, leaving me exasperated and bewildered.

David loved it. Every time I looked his way I found him grinning broadly, eating up each word, swallowing each assaulting noise with alacrity. My friends also loved it. I felt confused, which is probably the main reason I can’t tell you that I loved it as honestly as I can say that I found it interesting and hypnotic. Three long “songs,” and Pruitt Igoe finished their first set ever. Just when I thought I had seen the strangest, most stunningly different show of my life, enter Maiden Taiwan, stage left. Earlier in the evening, I had met this cute little Asian woman. She was friendly, effervescent, adorable… and she was now getting ready to perform.

A hip hop sort of beat (courtesy of a DJ scratching records on stage) came out through the speakers as Maiden Taiwan took off her coat to reveal her outfit -- a one-piece black jersey with the number 69 on the front, and silver, glittery stripes down each side. The jersey barely covered her crotch, where you could see a strip of black panties. She introduced herself, elicited applause for Ted and Pruitt Igoe, and then launched right into her music. I was stunned. Appalled. Confounded. Amused. Really, really amused. After three words, I was laughing so hard I almost fell off my stool. That beautiful, innocent looking visage framed by pigtails was shouting, “Fuck my face! Oh, baby, won’t you fuck my face! Fuck my face!” What!? Did she just say what I think she just said? Before I could recover from the shock of that first minute-long chant, she pulled a girl from the front of the crowd onto the dance floor (her go-go appearance giving her away as an accomplice), and sang, “Take off your panties, so I can eat your pussy! Take off your panties, so I can eat your pussy!” This, too, was repeated relentlessly for over a minute. The crowd was riveted. Her catchy phrasing was so effective, my friends have been humming the tunes all week; I sang it into more than one friend’s voicemail, and just this morning, I was horrified to find myself inappropriately mumbling the lyrics at my niece’s baptism.

Adding to my amusement, someone told me Maiden Taiwan is a schoolteacher by day. After three or four graphic rap songs highlighting genitalia and other delightful imagery, she took it down a notch and actually sang something. Her voice was pretty and clear, and the lyrics of the one obscenity-free song were poignant and comprehensive. I concluded that her intro, her outfit, and her words, are all part of her shtick to get the audience to listen before she can impart her actual talent. Her energy was infectious. As we left, my friend Kip said, “This is one of the WEIRDEST things I’ve EVER seen.” I have to agree with him. The only thing weirder would be a dance-off between this Asian bombshell and the Queen of Raunch. But I’m still going to see Maiden’s show at the Casbah at the end of July. It’s just too entertaining to miss.

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