Notes from the Parlour...
November 2005
When I got a last minute voice mail that David Allen wanted to capture me in a medieval dungeon, well, I knew something special was in store. He said he found a perfect locale that made him "think of Jill Tracy" (hmmm, how would Freud interpret that?) David Allen is the primary photographer for the San Francisco Opera and American Conservatory Theatre, so whenever we have worked together it's been quite theatrical and outlandish. Just what I adore.
With an assortment of lights, gels, and mandatory fog machine (gleefully operated by Thrillpeddlers' director Russell Blackwood) the mood was set. I knew I'd have some ideal promo shots for my song "Torture," (or at the very least a perfect cover shot for the next Scorpions album.) Last, but not least, sinister arms were furnished by Guignol artist/A.C.T. tech Tony Grat who contorted himself underneath me in a rusty, dirt-floored cage for at least 90 minutes of his own free will. I still owe him cocktails. And tetanus shots.
SFist ran one of these photos to accompany an amusing interview with me last month. (Click here to read the article.) Thanks so much to Eve Batey and staff. Thanks to Bay Area press in general for the huge coverage surrounding our Halloween concert series at The Hypnodrome. I was Critic's Pick in SF Weekly, Oakland Tribune, and Bay Guardian with giant photo. I was promptly featured on the cover of the SF Chronicle's Sunday Arts Guide --clad in Victorian undergarments, covered in blood, wielding a riding crop. Now, if that doesn't say Happy Halloween, I don't know what does...
Halloween at the Hypnodrome was a special series that director Russell Blackwood and I produced together. I wanted to intertwine Grand Guignol plays, storytelling, with short musical sets, culminating into a 1930s-style Spook Show, where the entire audience is plunged into complete darkness. The Spook Shows and the infamous Shock Box seats have become The Hypnodrome's signature. Something about unknowingly being immersed into rare full-on darkness makes even the biggest skeptics feel a tinge of fear. And in this case, your eyes never adjust..it's just too dark. The Hypnodrome effectively designed the theatre so no cracks of light cut through doorways, vents, or skylights. That in itself creates a powerful sense of isolation, even during a sold out show. Our fears never arise from the darkness itself, but from what the mind conjures during the experience. The real difference between light and dark is that in the darkness the power of imagination is all we have. It overrides all our other senses. Our reaction to the darkness is a study in how much we trust ourselves. Ahhh, there's where the troubles begin...
In my San Francisco apartment, there is a ghostly presence in the front hallway. I'm quite fond of it. It's lived there for years. We refer to it simply as "The Hallway Ghost." Sometimes I detect a decidedly feminine quality about the spirit, but I've never been able to gauge much more. I've never felt a malevolence around the spirit, but just that this little soul is caught, not quite sure how to move on, or does not want to accept that she has to. (Hmmm...maybe that's why she likes being around me so much--another caught soul trying to find her way through a world that doesn't agree with her.) Many people who have stayed with me comment on this energy in the hallway. The ghost is quite the trickster and will make noise, even knock on doors in rooms that come off the hall, (which includes the bathroom and my office.) She wants attention in the worst way.
Several times I've been in the shower with the bathroom fan on, and I hear a faint knocking on the door, or even the entry way door. I've wrapped myself in a towel, opened the door to the hallway to find no one. I'll hear footsteps down the hall into my office, and no one's there. It's weird; it's just become a fixture of the apartment. But I do find that everyone always turns the hallway light on when they have to get up in the middle of the night. It's that darkness thing again....
Thomas Truax had an odd dream the first night he stayed in my apartment, atop the air mattress on my office floor. We had not discussed the hallway ghost, but the next morning he mentioned a disturbing dream involving a creature who visited in the night. Coupled with tremendous jet lag, he didn't get much rest. I felt terrible for his fitful night, but intrigued, that he, too felt the little spirit. And of all the people I know, Thomas Truax would be the one to tap into another dimension.
Hailed as a "mad musical scientist," New York City's Truax is equal parts is Thomas Edison, Tesla and Faust by way of an evangelistic Nick Cave. We've been long time friends and I was excited that his touring schedule allowed him to come to San Francisco and perform at the Hypnodrome with me. We have that rare sort of friendship where we may not speak for months or years, and then we just pick up where we left off, with the same intensity as if it was yesterday. There's something really elastic about time with us. No maintenance required.
With his background as a stop motion animator, and his penchant for excessive tinkering, Truax invents his own instruments which resemble Victorian era Dr. Seuss contraptions-- The Hornicator, Sister Spinster, Back Beater, etc. The best part is he composes music on them. He's a brilliant songwriter and compelling showman. The audience was howling; I was laughing so hard tears were running down my face during songs like "Inside the Internet" and "The Fish." But I'm most impressed with how he conveniently disassembles and packs up his growing collection in what appears to be overly diminutive suitcases for such large instruments. It's all very scientific and surreal. I'm sure he's quite the favorite at airport security.
Thomas was able to take a day off from his rigorous tour schedule so we could hang out. I took him to one of my favorite secret treasures, the Columbarium. Off the beaten path even for most San Franciscans, the Columbarium's eerie history is as spellbinding as walking inside its ornate interiors. Nestled in a secluded two-acre garden spot, it beckons-- a beguiling copper-domed neoclassical 1897 Victorian building with brilliant stained glass windows and the cremated ashes of over 30,000 bodies housed in lovingly decorated niches. Row after row, story after story. It's dizzying. Few people realize that this structure was originally the centerpiece of a 167-acre cemetery and crematorium. Take heed superstitious folks: The Richmond District was entirely cemeteries until a 1901 law made burial illegal in San Francisco, and other laws in the 1930s mandated the removal of all graves to newly created Colma, "City of the Dead." The Columbarium was abandoned in 1934 and lay dormant for some 40 years until The Neptune Society painstakingly restored it. The restoration is a fascinating tale in itself, as the building and it's alcoves were grotesquely infested with pigeons, raccoons, and massive fungi, mushrooms growing everywhere. Not to mention the ghosts. Read Mary McFadden's engaging article on the Columbarium from the San Francisco Reader.
After a raucous Portland show, Ubergoth Voltaire missed his flight to San Francisco the day we were to perform together at DNA Lounge. The promoter phoned that afternoon informing me soundcheck times were later, as Voltaire's new flight would land in Oakland at 7pm. Voltaire arrived in plenty of time, however, and we shared our amusing pre-stage preparatory routines in the green room. I stood next to him doing vocal exercises, while he chain-smoked cigarettes.
The show went well. The crowd enthusiastic. Lots of new material. I played a 75-minute set with three members of The Malcontent Orchestra: Randy Odell (drums, percussion), Alex Nahas (Chapman Stick), and Alexander Kort (contrabass.) Between our set and Voltaire's set there was a screening of my animated short film The Fine Art of Poisoning, a collaboration with artist Bill Domonkos. I was thrilled at how the film received jubilant cheers from the crowd even before it was shown! Special thanks to Travis and Terra Scura for producing the event. At about 3:30am, when I went back upstairs to the dressing room to retrieve my belongings, I discovered a sleeping Voltaire, curled up on a black leatherette sofa right next to my bags.
My song "Evil Night Together" is featured on the brand new Projekt compilation CD A Dark Cabaret. The disc is an assemblage of varied artists in the genre including the Dresden Dolls, Revue Noir, and the late great Rozz Williams. It topped Projekt's sales charts for the month. Reviews have been favorable: I was called "a stylish performer" by the famed Mick Mercer, and Liar Society described my music as "macabre heat." Order A Dark Cabaret online or at any Hot Topic store worldwide.
Check out a gorgeous in-depth review of my CD Diabolical Streak from UK zine Glam-ou-rama.
Special thanks to the multi-talented Kitten, Club Bohemia, and all our glamourous UK fans!
For the beloved misfits on your holiday shopping list, the new Jill Tracy and The Malcontent Orchestra T-shirts make a perfect offering for the hard-to-please.
The black shirts feature our notorious Victorian corpse cooler logo (yes, this is how they preserved before refrigeration!) Display your exquisite taste in music and consummate knowledge of nineteenth-century embalming techniques. Who could ask for more? Visit the Merchandise page for ordering info.
As sparks flew, and shards of metal catapulted against bullet proof cages, crowds at this year's Combots/ Robo Games watched machines duel to the death to the beat of my song "Doomsday Serenade." That song was one of several selected as themes for the event held Nov 12-13 at Fort Mason. Disastrous fun!
Thanks to David Calkins, founder and president of the Robotics Society of America (and ardent Jill Tracy fan) for backstage passes to witness the secret behind-the-scenes madness. I could not help but realize I had crossed into the realm of modern day gladiators-- lions and humans, flesh, teeth, and blood. being coldly replaced by springs and circuitry. But the crowd evoked the same ravenous response centuries later. They were there for the kill.
It's vital to feed the soul--but imperative to keep it hungry...
Jill Tracy
back to current Parlour
the plot thickens...
read Notes from the Parlour archives:
Nov 2005
Sept 2005
July 2005
May 2005
Mar 2005
Feb 2005
Dec 2004
