Friday, December 08, 2006
Quintron and Miss Pussycat rock the party that rocks the party that rocks the party.
Last night Quintron and his life's muse, Miss Pussycat performed at Churchills, and sparked a bigger dance party than James Brown is capable of igniting. Had there been a coat-check room for inhibitions, it would have full, and everyone in attendance would have had a ticket to retrieve their's back at the end of the night.
Quintron's three home-altered keyboards are welded into the interior of this classic car's hood. How violently he plays the monster-organ controls the brightness or dimness of the headlights.
Miss Pussycat shook her maracas in time with her eratic dancing;they were covered with vibrant, tropical colored felt. Her dress had hand-stitched puppets embroidered all over it and she screamed her accompanyment through the crowd.
As if it couldn't get better, The Fabulous Shuttle Lounge had one of their routine near-breakups. After one lounger abandond the bar in a tropical drink stuper (prior to their scheduled set time), the show's promoter had to replace them. Fortunately, this guy was there.
For anyone who spends time at Churchills, they know that guy. He hangs out in the street outside of the club with a boombox strapped to his bicylce's basket. He plays his acoustic guitar as accompanyment to the classic 80's tunes creeping out of the speakers for money. Well, last night he headlined, got paid, called himself "The Drop it Like it's Hot Show" and brought the freakin' house down. Everyone was singing along, still riding the adrenaline high from dancing all night, and screaming out requests. Be warned Shuttle Lounge: showbiz is a cutthroat industry and there's always someone willing to fill your timeslot.
Last night Quintron and his life's muse, Miss Pussycat performed at Churchills, and sparked a bigger dance party than James Brown is capable of igniting. Had there been a coat-check room for inhibitions, it would have full, and everyone in attendance would have had a ticket to retrieve their's back at the end of the night.
Quintron's three home-altered keyboards are welded into the interior of this classic car's hood. How violently he plays the monster-organ controls the brightness or dimness of the headlights.
Miss Pussycat shook her maracas in time with her eratic dancing;they were covered with vibrant, tropical colored felt. Her dress had hand-stitched puppets embroidered all over it and she screamed her accompanyment through the crowd. As if it couldn't get better, The Fabulous Shuttle Lounge had one of their routine near-breakups. After one lounger abandond the bar in a tropical drink stuper (prior to their scheduled set time), the show's promoter had to replace them. Fortunately, this guy was there.
For anyone who spends time at Churchills, they know that guy. He hangs out in the street outside of the club with a boombox strapped to his bicylce's basket. He plays his acoustic guitar as accompanyment to the classic 80's tunes creeping out of the speakers for money. Well, last night he headlined, got paid, called himself "The Drop it Like it's Hot Show" and brought the freakin' house down. Everyone was singing along, still riding the adrenaline high from dancing all night, and screaming out requests. Be warned Shuttle Lounge: showbiz is a cutthroat industry and there's always someone willing to fill your timeslot.
# posted by The Hive @ 1:00 PM 
