There was a long time when I first started working as a strip club DJ when I’d engage in small talk with customers. Almost always it led to them saying “You must have the best job in the world!” It was hard to understand why. I don’t have benefits. Trying to get days off is a daunting effort, and when I have to cover for another DJ I am yelled at for reaching overtime. I’m the whipping boy of management and certain dancers. Then the slow realization dawns of why they think it’s so great: I get to look at naked women all day.
So I wonder what they’d think if they knew they were talking to a fag (well, queer male, in the Rainer Werner Fassbinder/Paul Bowles sense. I’m attracted to women romantically and intellectually, but mostly sleep with men) who remains pretty indifferent to all the nudity. But since I don’t really want to discuss any more with them, or ruin any part of the illusion that comes with the territory, I nod and say “Yup,” then proceed back to my booth.
I’ve worked at two different clubs and there’s not much to the job. I come in, turn on the sound equipment and lights, put music on shuffle and wait out the day until I can clock out, chatting with the dancers or staff when free or not reading a book. I’m not out to my coworkers by any means for fear of being fired. In an industry that hires solely on looks and can fire someone for such bullshit excuses as saying no to a drink when already very drunk or trying to signal a customer over from stage, I’m sure a queer man in a highly hetero male space would cause waves. [READ MORE]
Friday is Valentine’s Day, that special day wherein we celebrate patriarchal norms and reinforce insulting gender stereotypes with rampant consumerism.
Valentine’s Day is one of the those special “off” days that happen every-so-often in the strip club. Working the night of one these off days is never business-as-usual—it’s usually, business-as-oh-my-God-did-that-just-happen. The day of Cupid falls on a Friday this year, and there’s going to be a full moon.
A friend sent me this video last week, rightly pegging it as relevant to my interests. The song is “The Way Out” by Porcelain Raft, the performing name of multi-instrumentalist Mauro Remiddi. It is expansive and atmospheric electronic pop that might be a little too downbeat for a packed club but, as in the video, a perfect track for a quiet afternoon shift. The video stars a very capable pole dancer, employs an elegant one-shot format, and has a subdued mood. It’s more Exotica than Showgirls. Its events threatened to upset me, but the story has a satisfyingly dark conclusion. I reached out to director Michael Lawrence to ask him about his process. Watch the video and read our Q&A below. [READ MORE]
Kelly didn’t get to sing this during the Super Bowl. Her songs are much, much dirtier than Beyoncé and Destiny’s Child, and “Kisses Down Low” is Rowland’s entry into one of the best types of sex songs: Lyrics About Eating Pussy As Sung By Women. Just last night I had to hear yet another customer talk about how he just loooooved to eat pussy, and how he was soooo good at it, I’d pay him *eyes actually leave sockets as muscles fail to stop their rolling.* While, when done right, it’s great, listening to those proclamations makes me wonder why there aren’t corresponding “stop fucking eating my pussy, you are so horrible at it it seems you have mistaken my vulva for corn on the cob and it feels so disgusting that I am nauseated” songs is beyond me and an inaccurate reflection of women’s sexual experience. It’s much more fun to hear a woman tell a man what she wants and how he’d better do it, and these three songs are solid, played-until-the-end-of-time strip club standards. [READ MORE]
suck my left one embroidered patch by nastynasty on etsy
Celebrate, strippers, for January is over. Traditionally the worst month of the year in the club (with the semi-exception of Vegas during CES and AVN), we wave goodbye to it with one lone finger raised high and look forward to the uptick in business that comes with February.
When the club is dead, or worse, packed full of guys who aren’t spending money, it’s good to blow off steam instead of getting frustrated and frantic. You want to hold on to a semblance of a good attitude in case that one awesome customer who can save your night walks in the door. Or maybe you just want to tell everyone to fuck off and quit looking at you for free. Either way, it’s great to have a list of FUCK YOU SONGS, the ones you dance to when you’re all out of fuck-giving and are more interested in amusing yourself than entertaining the crowd. Jesus, some of those dudes act like it’s our JOB to entertain them.
Here, then, are my five all-time favorite Fuck You Songs, selected for maximum audience alienation and personal enjoyment. They’re all good genuine fun to dance to and the crowd (and possibly your DJ, fellow dancers, and managers) probably won’t like them.*
Wire, “I Am The Fly”
The metallic, buzzing guitars on “I Am The Fly” are guaranteed to set most customers on edge. Maybe they’ll even be unfortunate enough to pay attention to the lyrics (“I can spread more disease than the fleas/Which nibble away at your window display”). The just-off timing of the vocals keeps it from settling into a steady rhythm, but to me, the whole of all these little discomforts is a near-perfect groove. [READ MORE]