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The (Mostly) Naked Truth: Onstage with Rockalily Burlesque
Photography by David Hicks
You know that classic nightmare scenario where you find yourself on stage in front of a huge crowd, wearing nothing but your underwear?
Well, I tried doing that. As it turns out, it’s not such a nightmare after all. In fact, for some it’s a way of life.
Burlesque shows have become a staple of my entertainment diet over the past few months. I am consistently amazed by the skill and talent of the performers and I find it a tasteful, culturally significant art form.
While burlesque, at least in its current incarnation, relies heavily upon acts that feature young women in suggestive costumes who then proceed to remove them, it is by no means stripping. Stripping is often exploitative, rarely run by or for the benefit of the performers, and, frankly, it’s cheap. Burlesque, on the other hand, is empowering, takes talent and creativity to pull off, and is always sophisticated. They’re worlds apart.
Last fall, I had the good fortune to meet Miss Helvetica Bold (formerly Verotica). Helvetica, besides being one of my favourite fonts, is the founder of Rockalily Burlesque, a local burlesque troupe that has been actively performing for over two years. Through her, I’ve become familiar with and deeply interested in the burlesque scene.
By “deeply interested,” I of course mean “on stage, in front of a crowd at Babylon, wearing only my boxer shorts.” Hey, anything for a story.
Two weeks ago, preparations were underway for a Rockalily show combined with the release ofThe Polymorphines‘ new CD Transistor Sistor, featuring special guests The Speaking Tongues (from Toronto) and The Girlfriends. Helvetica, for her first performance since returning from several months living in Montréal, had crafted a “reverse striptease” routine backed by Dragonette‘s “I Get Around”. Her routine called for a male counterpart to join her on stage as she put on her clothing. Unfortunately, Goldenrod—currently the sole male member of the troupe—was not going to be available the night of the show. Half-jokingly, she asked if I would help her out.
I agreed.
How hard could it be? The “role” involved little more than lying in bed and rolling over a few times. I have years of practice doing that. I saw it more as being a prop than a performer. Although Helvetica was clearly surprised, she was also grateful, and told me to start thinking up a stage name.
Burlesque performers all have stage names. It’s a mixture of stage tradition and basic privacy. Besides Helvetica and Goldenrod, Rockalily counts among its members Sahara Starr, Audrey Hipturn, Koston Kreme, Bambi van Boom, Sass Bunny, Shade (who you may recognize as a local bellydancer), Vixen Vega, and Thundercunt. Even the stagehand has a stage name: Lady Maurelle Divine.
Miss Helvetica Bold arrived at my Lowertown apartment on the afternoon of the show to run through the routine a couple of times. We put the backing track on repeat and practiced; her getting dressed frantically, and me rolling over slowly a few times. It became quickly apparent that there were hidden challenges to my role: I needed to be out of the way when she sat down on the bed to put on her stockings, and I had to “wake up” at the right time. The main difficulty lay in having to keep my eyes closed throughout, unable to see what was going on. I started to get nervous.
Then Helvetica sat down next to me.
No words could ever adequately convey the jackhammer sound of her six-inch stiletto heels vibrating against the hardwood floor as her legs shook uncontrollably with sheer nervousness. As I comforted this respected, seasoned performer, putting aside any concerns of my own, I got some idea of what a tightly-knit support network Rockalily is. It has to be; as relaxed as the performers look on stage, keep in mind that these girls come up with their routines from scratch, rehearse with meticulous attention to detail, and make much of their own costumes and accessories. That takes an emotional and physical toll on a person, even an experienced one like Helvetica. After a while, she calmed down and we went through the routine a few more times. Once we were comfortable with the timing, we headed to Babylon.
Although I was only needed on stage for one routine, I volunteered (as I was expected to) to help out with stagehanding, backstage necessities, and to act as moral support. In return, I got to witness the incredible bond between the Rockalily girls firsthand.
After The Polymorphines did their sound check, a few of the girls ran through their routines, to get the feel of the stage and the acoustics. As Helvetica and I were slated to be up first, and required a fairly large prop (a plywood block topped with black vinyl), we did our dry run last. We manoeuvred the block onto the stage, and then I went to the washroom to change into my “costume.”
How do you freak out a room full of seasoned burlesque dancers? You walk out of the men’s washroom at Babylon wearing nothing but white boxer shorts and a pair of socks. First Koston Kreme, then Bambi van Boom took double-takes followed by laughter (hey, I’m a writer, not a model) as I strode by.
The first thing that went through my head when I laid down on the block under a thin cotton sheet was that vinyl is cold on bare skin.
Helvetica and I did a couple of dry runs of our routine, during which I discovered that not only would I have my eyes closed the entire time, but that I would be facing the stage lights, and therefore unable to see anything other than Helvetica’s shadow as she passed downstage during the act. I decided to rely on her shadow for my cues.
“Have you decided on a stage name yet?” she asked. I shook my head. She furrowed her brow. “If you don’t pick one soon, I’ll call you Brass Knob, since you’re replacing Goldenrod.” I cringed. It’s hard to get creative when you’re in a cold nightclub in only your underwear.
Calling in a last-minute photographer has become somewhat of a hallmark of mine; this time David Hicks left an expensive dinner on Elgin Street to speed home, pick up his equipment, and arrive just before the show began, camera in hand and wearing a suit just short of a tuxedo. Although his camera battery died unexpectedly after the second Rockalily set, as you can see, he still managed to capture the girls in all their glory.
Helvetica and I took our places on stage, the music started, the lights came up, and from what I could tell by the volume of the cheering, Helvetica did a wonderful reverse striptease as I tried my best to look like I was gradually waking up. We finished the routine, I helped Lady Divine move the block out of the way (no small feat with a bedsheet wrapped unceremoniously around me), and returned backstage. On my way through the door, I heard Helvetica call me “Silverstick.” That’s far better than anything I could have come up with on the spot.
As Helvetica was Master of Ceremonies for the remainder of the evening, I was consigned to run backstage errands, corral the performers after each band’s set was over, and help Lady Divine retrieve discarded props and items of clothing after the acts. I learned from talking with her that she became a stagehand because she doesn’t consider herself ready to perform, but it’s a way to get involved and get used to the environment. Her job isn’t easy; thrown gloves can end up just about anywhere on stage, yet somehow she manages to retrieve everything.
Despite all that running around, I did get a chance to go out into the crowd, where I ran into a few of my friends. Much to my surprise, they had arrived on time to catch my four minutes of unclothed fame, and none of them were horrified. I even received a few handshakes of congratulation from people I’d never seen before. Not bad for being a prop.
After the first set of burlesque performances, The Girlfriends took the stage. They were followed by more Rockalily, The Speaking Tongues, another Rockalily set, and finally The Polymorphines. For their two-song encore, the band was joined on stage by the Rockalily girls for a true rock’n'roll burlesque finale.
One of my friends joined us backstage while the other girls were getting dressed and collecting their things downstairs. I suggested that she might like to try burlesque someday; she smiled bashfully.
“Oh, no,” she said, blushing slightly, “I could never do that.” After a moment, her face brightened.
“Are there strawberry pasties? I would totally do it if I could wear strawberries.”
It would seem that the ranks of burlesque are destined to swell. If other troupes are as tightly-knit and put on as spectacular a show as Rockalily does, audience members and potential performers alike will benefit. The whole community will benefit.
In this society, we’re taught not to rock the boat. We’re taught not to act out. We’re taught, in essence, not to perform. It’s hard to overcome, but the potential you risk wasting is worth the effort. Not to mention the wonderful feeling of accomplishment. For a few moments, I was a burlesque performer, and I’m proud of that.
You can catch the Rockalily girls performing at the Mercury Lounge as part of Cirque Noir this Friday, and pick up a copy of Transistor Sistor from The Polymorphines at either Compact Music location.
Andrew Snowdon is a theatregoer, concert attendee, and writer living in Lowertown, Ottawa, sandwiched between a MacBook and a typewriter, with a cup of coffee.
The Polymorphines make it work with Transistor Sistor
Here’s the sad truth: bands like the Polymorphines don’t really exist anymore.
There are a few here and there still dishing out original hard rock, but most groups that sound like this are rehashing the tired old Zeppelin and AC/DC covers in places like the sad wreck of what once was Barrymore’s. But the Ottawa-based combo is creating new material, fresh energetic rock that is a far cry from simply aping the old masters.
I’m not sure a lot of people still listen to music like this, outside of live venues, although there are several instances I can think of where the Polymorphines’ new Transistor Sistor would be appropriate. For example, while hanging off the side of a 747 in mid flight, or being chased down the tracks by a runaway locomotive; or, say, parachuting into a VietCong encampment during the Tet Offensive, circa 1968. Those kind of special occasions.
Then again, this is the kind of group that, once they start playing, all notions of stylistic pigeon-holing disappear.
They produce sweaty, riff-driven hard rock without the pretension of much mid-to-late 70′s fare (even Zeppelin was guilty of this). There are no 25-minute keyboard solos, no flowery lyrics about hobbits and wizards and magical stairways, but the band kicks up a solid groove and keeps it going throughout the record. Transistor Sister has a remarkably consistent feel from start to finish.
Like a lot of 70s rock, their music is heavy on guitar, drums and a particularly fluid bass, but there is a unique feel to the recording that sounds like a cross between a church basement and Shea Stadium.
The band lists Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath and Neil Young among their influences and they’ve absorbed and synthesized elements from all of them.
Outside of standard blues-rock groups, not many rock acts have tried to incorporate a harmonica player. Aerosmith does it once in a while when they’re trying to revive their flagging rock cred. Mick Jagger fooled around with it in the early years before discarding the harmonica in favour of sexually ambiguous gyrating. There are a few scorching harp solos on this record that will make your ears burn.
The Polymorphines make it work, too. Transistor Sistor, is a full-length collection of high-powered rock songs that evoke sweaty bars, mosh pits and beer-fueled dance marathons. It sounds like a live album from the studio floor and is tastefully underproduced by Dave Dudley; the group is tight and obviously very used to one another, which is why the record sounds like they stepped right off the stage and into the booth.
A major highlight is “Dirty Cop”, which is one of the funnier tracks on the album, a tongue-in-cheek skewering of overstuffed authority figures. There’s a lengthy harmonica solo on this one and a cool beat. “Goodbye Kiss” woudn’t sound out of place on a Black Sabbath record, circa 1970, only this is even heavier and the band seems more concerned with sound than image. “Black Sky” has one of the hottest opening guitar licks you’ll hear in this day and age.
Another high point is “Wicked Woman”, where the beat momentarily slows down and they channel the ghosts of early-70s Santana. (Santana’s not technically dead, but the music sure is.)
In the end – and without denigrating the studio effort in any way – this is a band that will make its reputation through live performances. What the album gives you is a keyhole glimpse into what must be an amazing stage show.
You get that chance March 20th at Babylon for their CD release party.
Listen to The Polymorphines here: http://www.myspace.com/thepolymorphines
Jehan Khoorshed is a music reviewer for Ottawa Tonite, and can also be found here: http://www.myspace.com/jehankhoorshed
