Tokyo Damage Report

Alamode night (goth loli event) dragqueen version!



some band named ‘crab nebula’ **, with a glued-on Frank Zappa moustache and eyebrows, doing a parody of the SHEIK YOURBOUTI album cover. . . and it has NOTHING to do with zappa’s music!!

SOUNDTRACK: ‘just got paid today’ – rapeman version

That night I go to yet another drag queen goth show . . .


…which I hoped would be new and exciting. But it wasn’t. The whole time I’m just like, ‘ehhhhh’. It’s pretty much the same people all the time. The queens aren’t really making much of an effort to be goth, though: most of them have afros.

Plus people with huge improbable breasts are coming up and saying hi to me and I have no idea who they are.

FIRST ACT: I think their name is ROYAL MISTRESS

Two people slowly march on stage. Two elaborate, ancient-looking wedding gowns, one black and one white. Candles. Incantations are read over spooky music. This goes on for 5 minutes. This gave me plenty of time to imagine the meeting where they pitched their act to the club owners: "put us on the bill, yo. We got this slammin stage show, yo." "so what do you do? Are you a band?" "we don’t need a band, yo!We’re on some theatrical shit, man, like Shakespeare. plus, like, We got this crazy synthesyzer that goes when you press ‘play,’ yo. " "so what’s youre play about? What’s the plot? Do the characters learn anything?" "I have no idea, yo. But we have these crazy costumes, yo. Our shit is so dope. We just stand there and mutter incantations, is how dope we are, yo. Put us on the bill!" "oh, . . .. uh, ok."

Then some tattered zombie guy, with fetters on his feet (doubtless purchased at Don Quixote) gets up and they start smacking him around. The end! That they even have the balls to do this is what I like about it.

SECOND ACT; tranny play

Kyutaro put this on. I REALLY like her: she’s always herding around this huge harem of queens. I’m not sure if she’s like their mascot or their manager, or their clothes-maker or their Den Mother or whatever, but every drag event she’s there, dressed in her regulation "I’m some kind of male furry carniverious creature, who is also a drag queen, dressed up as a female kind of furry carniverious creature, where the creature is slightly different spieces every event" type costume.

She’s also the epicenter of the Goth Afro movement, and since this is HER fashion show, she gets to make the queens wear fros also. The lead emcee changes into this completely sleazy blue alligator skin jumpsuit and reads out of a book.

Meanwhile, the characters on stage act out the vignettes as she reads them.

The plot is difficult to understand, especially for a non-froed foreigner like me. It revolves around a lady dressed up as a tree, and some carnivorous furry animal who is sad, and gets roses from some passing queens, and maybe cheers up after that? It’s hard to tell. . . . and then Tree-Girl comes back and then something something something, and after that, something something. Then, everyone takes a bow.


THIRD ACT; fiddler on the toumb, I mean PHANTASMAGORIA

Some guy with a tri-cornered Revolutionary War hat, stands in a cloud of Smoke Machine smoke, for like 5 minutes, waiting for the DJ to press ‘play’ on his backing music. It’s really spinal tap. Finally the DJ is like, ‘my bad!’ and the show starts.

Homey starts sawing away at this electric violin. He is not very good. Luckily they keep him low in the mix. After about 6 minutes of this, two women come out and start singing and dancing. They’re really good dancers. I think this group was just an excuse for the lights guy to go nuts with all the different colored disco lights. I can’t say that the disco lights fit with the spooky image of the band, but they sure were great to watch. I kept picturing Professor Frink behind the lighting boards, going " you can’t appreciate it on as many levels as I do. . .the colors, children! The colors! Ng-glyvin!"



FOURTH ACT; tea party

This went beyond the usual Preposterous Goth Theatre and into uncharted territories of pure ludicriousness. Imagine three 9 year olds having a tea party. Now imagine if they had a tea party with Ingmar Bergman. They’d take turns: two ladies would stage some kind of pantomime ("starts with ‘p’?" sounds like pact? Suicide pact!" "guns?" "starts with ‘p’?" "poison? Is it poison? Looks like poison??") while the third would sit at the Tea Table and read out of a book, narrarating the story of the other two.


Oh, and then suddenly they all got up and did karaoke pop tunes with matching Shirelles-style dance moves. It hurt my feelings.

FIFTH ACT; introducing everyone

This wasn’t even a performance – more like a chat show– The emcees took turns introducing the cool people to the rest of us, and making small talk with them. The cool people would then sit on the stage behind the emcees and sort of preen a little. What pissed me off was, there weren’t more than 30 people in the club, but I was seeing lots of these people for the first time. This, plus the fact that the first-floor dancehall was locked, meant that they had been having their own, private Cool Person Party the whole damn time. And were too cool to mingle with us, the regular customers that paid $30 to be entertained. I wanted to yell, ‘DANCE, YOU MONKEYS!! Give me SOMETHING?!!!’ I mean, if you’re playing a stadium with 20,000 people, obviously you can’t invite everyone to the after-party . . .But if there’s more people in the damn after-party than there are customers, that’s kind of jacked!! Something’s not right, yo.

other things were : Violet, the promoter. . .

and some random flyer for a rockabilly hello kitty band:

but obviously the most gothic thing of the entire evening, by a huge margin, was :


the women’s toilet.

the blood-spattered women’s toilet.

way to Keep It Real, you crazy abortion-having vampire motherfuckers!!


*and if you got that joke, you’re probably in Frightwig.

** sucks?!!!!!!

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