September 10th – I guess, back then,
he would have been described as exotic.
Certainly surprised me when my first wife and I met him back in 1970; not that
he was coloured green or anything like that, you understand. No, it was just
his cat-like agility and startling femininity… and he knew it too. Sexy, lithe,
funny, dramatic, tall (6’2”) and slim, he was a good-time-guy/gal and a
first-class horseman/woman…whatever, and had a knowledge about the care of
animals that was astonishing in its depth and detail; diets, well-being,
breeding in captivity, general husbandry, gestation periods and veterinary
care, just astounding.
I have to say, though, that his ability to
entice and befriend the worst possible specimens of the human race were
bordering on the cosmic. Every single man he paired off with and who came to
live in the little bungalow he had on the grounds fucked him over, but not it a
nice way. Physical and mental cruelty were the day-to-day staple of his
relationships and tears were always to the fore, as were uppers, downers and a
lot of wine;
I’ve had
so many pills I rattle
was a regular quote from Les (not his real name,
obviously) and I was often amazed as to how he’d managed to come in to work at
the 07.30 start time we had, given his condition of the night before. It was
well before I’d heard of them but when the world of the demimonde came to my notice (some background work I was doing for a
novel) his was the first persona that sprang to mind. He was probably about
three years older than me so given his lifestyle back then and the amount of
stimulants he ploughed his way through as well as his very easy-going sexual
habits my guess is that he’s no longer of this world as the emergence of AIDS
was close by; sad if it’s so because he was then, and remains in my head now,
utterly captivating. Cecilia, Paul
Simon’s song off the Bridge Over Troubled
Water album. Play that. That’s the musical and lyrical equivalent of the
person I knew.
One thing that is still with me even now is the
lady he idolised; Yma Sumac, born on this day in 1927. Everything a diva should
be, her real name was Amy Camus (spell it backwards) but as Yma she claimed to
be an Incan princess descended
from Atahualpa, the last Incan emperor. You only have to look
at a few photos of her to see where every other female performer of the past
twenty years drew their inspiration from when it came to the staggered make-up look.
I
think I’m also on solid ground when I say that a viewing of her promotional
material (particularly the poster for the album cover of Xtabay) would convince even the most sceptical that she must have
been a role model for countless transvestites of the 40’s and 50’s and would
make an excellent gay icon today. She has it all, the heightened eyebrows, the
full lips, the haughty stare…and the headdresses! No wonder Les thought she was
the bee’s-knees. All of this was used by her promoters to create a
larger-than-life character, one thing they didn’t need to make any additions
to, however, was her voice. She could sing (sing properly) slightly over four octaves from B2 to C♯7 as well as notes in the low baritone register
and above the range of an ordinary soprano. Four
octaves. One thing I would say, however, is that, unlike Les, there is no
way I could sit through a whole album of hers; no way. Have a go at this;
probably the weirdest video you’ll sit through this year. Get her going full
belt and you’d be inundated with dogs…
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