Antony & The Johnsons

Let's face it, dear reader, it's a binary world. You're either hot or you're not. And last night we were ssssmokiiin' (in zeitgeist terms, at least). Antony and The Johnsons live at legendary Paris concert venue L'Olympia. With models. Some of whom were trannies. Yours truly, Noodle, Micke and Mr. B. Was it music? Was it art? Was it FABBBBULLOUUUS? Answer: All of the above. Seriously, I loved it. Antony's soaring, gospel-tinged voice is just as gorgeous live as on cd and he has that amazing - and rare - ability of the true "artiste" to create his own world and pull you in, so that you completely lose yourself in the moment. Corny it may be, but there were moments where I forgot where I was. And though there's a melancholy quality to his music, the effect it creates is more dreamy and wistful than depressing. The video part sounded like it had high cringe potential but, in fact, was the perfect complement. The whole experience was gentle, soothing, comforting, the aural equivalent of slipping on a (dark red) velvet dressing gown after bathing in warm milk. Perfect for an autumn night. Favourite moments: "Cripple and the Starfish" and "Rapture" (the encore). Does this mean I'm more old skool Antony, I wonder?