(pretty much the same as mine but more melodramatic yet coherent)
Just weeks earlier my best friend and younger sister, Iris, stumbled upon an FS video on Muchmusic, and in a fraction of a second she was sold on them. Literally moments later I was watching some FS files that she had downloaded, and my jaw had dropped down to my knees. I was utterly speechless. The music was a fantastic mix of seventies electronic a la Kraftwerk, eighties new wave reminiscent of Gary Numan, and nineties Moby-like ambient.
Even more spectacular were the group’s visuals. Casey Spooner is built like a god and has the charisma to match, making me wish every day that I had been born a gay man. In the true spirit of performance art, his body is a canvas for every unimaginably gorgeous costume and every exquisite make-up job that transforms him into some fantastic new character. Casey could make a chameleon blush. He also managed to humble a bloody brilliant artist like me, which is no small feat.
Within days we had bought tickets to the Vancouver show, rearranged our final exam schedule and planned a 1500km road trip to a neighboring province to see Fischerspooner, and if I could have guessed beforehand how unbelievably brilliant the show would be, I would have skipped my own funeral to see it.
In one night Fischerspooner transformed my boring little world of petty inspirations and two-dimensional art into a breathtaking, surreal and spectacular dream. If there was a heaven for the artistically eminent, it would consist of this one performance, repeated every night for an eternity. And, as if the sheer beauty of the spectacle wasn’t enough, the FS troop, had the bloody brilliant sense of humor to laugh at their own genius, and to let the audience in on the fun.
It was undoubtedly the most inspiring and gorgeous performance I will ever have the pleasure and privilege of seeing (this coming from someone who has seen the likes of U2, Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Billy Idol and countless other iconic groups).
Here are some highlights from the incomparable Fischerspooner show:
1. Iris and I are dead front and off to the right of center at the Commodore, with our other friends behind us. The stage is waist-high, and the cameras documenting the show are practically up our noses. Prime viewing area.
2. First song: Invisible. Casey comes out in a platinum wig and shimmering black (Dior?) suit. Did I mention that I wish I was a gay man? (Preferably John Galliano or Hedi Slimane so I could fit him and woo him simultaneously.) The dancers look gorgeous in fishnets and feathers and are practically breathing down my neck.
3. 15th: my favorite. Casey stands directly in front of us and pretends to sing beautifully. I can’t decide whether the song or Casey is more perfect and struggle not to grope him. Am left speechless by both.
4. Emerge. (I think). Casey starts to do his spastic dance moves and my sister and I just lose it. This bit and him scolding the girls and counting his dance steps are bloody hilarious. How does he keep a straight face?
5. Casey decides to body surf at some point, and as he soars over my head I have the most hilarious Free Willy moment as I reach up and let my fingers trace a line down his leg. Then, as he’s coming back, he ends up sitting on Iris’ head. We’re near tears by now. What a magical moment!
6. Sweetness. My favorite piece from the video happens on our side of the stage. Casey and Peanuts are practically on top of us as Peanuts goes into his incredible paint-spewing performance, leaving me blissfully blood-stained. I refuse to wash my hand-made t-shirt, which appropriately reads: “Step Aside, Brilliant Artist Coming Through.” If I can milk the religious metaphor, it felt like I was being anointed by the Muses. (I know, I’m mixing mythologies – SHADDAP!)
7. After the blood-bath, Casey stands right at the edge of the stage during one song with his knee practically in my eye. I can’t strain my neck to look up, so I glance down at his feet. He is wearing the cutest fuzzy white socks with what looks like grape juice stains on the soles. I start to playfully rub the top of his foot with my fingers and surprisingly, he doesn’t move. Don’t see his reaction, but I am so amused.
8. At some point one of the girls drops a feather from her headdress in front of me. Iris points it out and I pick it up as a souvenir. It had fallen into a pool of paint on the stage and looked blood-stained. I also shove some of their mirror confetti into my shirt and later pray that they didn’t get my disturbing behavior on camera.
9. Tone Poem. Casey gets ready to take off his tattered shirt, but we start to squeal so damn loud that he changes his mind, saying: “ You won’t listen to the words.” He sings beautifully. I’m glad he keeps his shirt on because my pants are pretty much on fire already.
10. Some jackass throws ice at Casey and gets dragged onto the stage for a thrashing. I hope its real because I thoroughly enjoy it.
11. Horizon: show-stopper. Casey in that striped suit with the brilliantly colored chiffon scarves, fighting the wind machine. It is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
12. The absolute pinnacle moment comes at the end of the show. Peanuts comes out to the edge of the stage and I start to play with his shin a little bit. He jumps back when he feels my hands on him, and I realize that he’s holding a camera. He points down and asks “You?” I nod my head vigorously. He points to Iris to come in closer, and kneels down to take a picture of us. (Even asks us if we are ready and I end up looking like a retard in the picture because I’m nodding – BUT WHO CARES!?) Peanuts steals my heart and the show.
After the performance we entered the street to a chorus of car horns, cheering the Canucks’ victory that night, but it seemed as if they were acknowledging FS. It was unbelievable. And as if that wasn’t perfect enough, I spotted a sign that completely epitomized the imagination, beauty and abandon that had awoken the sleeping artist in me that night: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined!” To play on Sting’s famous words: DaVinci made me want to become an artist; Fischerspooner made me want to become a genius.