The anticipation: like when you were a kid waiting for Santa.  That’s how it feels heading up to Montreal for Black and Blue. It’s that time of year again—and the airplane is loaded with goodies. A plane full of circuit boyz—and Tracy Young, in the nick of time, bearing her box of music.  “I almost didn’t make it,” she gasps.  But now we’re locked and loaded and ready to roll—like that brand-new pink airline from New Zealand: Circuit Jet Air. 

It’s a Power Trip this year.  That’s BBCM’s theme for the 17th incarnation of the Black and Blue Festival.  A power trip: a moment in time when we hold the power to change—personally, globally, within our community. Even Starbucks is in on the trip with ads reading VOUS AVEZ LE POUVOIR.  You have the power. 

And it’s somehow appropriate that as we wait in the endlessly snaking customs line, we overhear one boy to another, “Gimme a hug.  Gimme a hug.”  That’s it then: our m.o. for the week.   Gimme a hug.

All over Montreal, as the sun sets on Friday, the boyz keep arriving: Adam and Michael from Boston, and Jake and Jesse from D.C.  We get a tm from Joe Caro who’s arrived on Wednesday, fresh from Folsom Street in San Francisco.  “Hos b4 pros,” he writes.  Already he’s been the star of a ménage à beaucoup at the W Montreal—which has earned him enough power clout to shoot him from the Marriott all the way up into the Presidential Suite at the Gouverneur.  First time to Montreal, first time to Black and Blue—and the man is a multi-culturalist superstar ho. 

Meanwhile back in New York, one of the Gotham boyz is standing outside the train station waiting for the other to arrive for their six-hour drive northward.  But that’s okay—because they’re not doing any parties tonight.  So they say.  Famous last words... 

Onward we move, across borders, and into the streets, parading down St. Catherine, into the boutiques and clubs—until there we are again, arriving outside Stade Olympique for Main Event.  It’s Sunday, just after midnight.  The Stade’s tower hovers against the moonlit sky.  Crowds of kids huddle outside like cliques around a school on a Friday night.  Cabs and cars line the drive as the masses pour in—for the big game.  Our game.  Our team.   

The stade glowing white, it’s easy to see it as a giant fantasy power station.  Inside we go, red flashers illuminating our path through the labyrinthine tunnels below center field.  We run into Michel Laprise, the artistic director of Black and Blue 14 (the Louis XIV year, for those keeping track—with its beautiful evocation of Versailles et environs).  He’s the kind of soul you want to mark your entrance into Main Event—gentle and sincere—and it’s he who reminds us of the very great symbolic value of partying in the center field of the Stade Olympique—with its many memories—and the opportunity to dance together, again, as a way of sending out a message to the planet.  See?  This is how it can be.  We can live in harmony.   

And so we enter into more than 900,000 watts of sound and light—as Stefane Lippé plays Deb Cox’s “Everybody Dance.”  And in keeping with global harmony, this is a Main Event more “green” than others, using more environment-friendly power sources.  There are three independently-run lasers and three eight-story high light riggings—with a center stage in the round, encircled by the massive dance floor, and the deejay booth positioned at the midnight hour.  Already the floor is packed with territorial balloons floating overhead and text messages flying back and forth.  We get one that says “Adam Tanner knows everyone”—and suddenly it seems everyone is here.  So many smiles, so much happiness.  Main Event!  At last!  We’re here.  It’s now.  A new power generation.  Human voltage working in harmony.

And there’s Jake and Jesse, their first time to Montreal for Black and Blue, and they grab us in a hug, yelling, “We’re in awe.”  It’s inspiring, no doubt about it.  So many people, something like ten thousand, that’s the figure that comes out tomorrow—but for now, it’s one big happy field of black and blue youth.  And these people can dress!  No holds barred, they pull out the costume trunks and drape their bodies in bits of black leather and blue lace, carrying riding crops and fans, festooned in feathers and plumes, dripping velvet and crepe.  And these kids can dance!  They’re soaking it up and werqing it out.  Surfing the beat. 

Imagine—twelve hours of this bliss. 

And then suddenly it’s one a.m. as a robotic basso profundo voice welcomes us all to Black and Blue Power Trip—and into the opening number as the lights (Oh, those lights, those lasers, those scrims, those flashes!) dim momentarily—and we’re off.  Opening number: it’s “Be My Dog” with Montreal vedette Vileda as Miss 220 Volt under the artistic direction of wunderkind Jean-Pierre Perusse whose own m.o. is “Don’t be shy—be radical,”—which is exactly what he delivers.  Nothing less than a jolt of megawatt human voltage as Vileda and the BBCM dancers release it, literally shooting into the air in synchronized movement.  The crowd goes wild.  Let’s get this party started.  And we grab hold of a euphoric Caroline Rousse, BBCM’s vox populi, and she goes, “Did you like?” 

Did we like? OH, HONEY!

It’s a true power trip now, with Antoine Clamaran at the helm.  Antoine from Paris, grooving in the booth.  A man who loves his music—and sends that love out to the people.  We’re in the thick of it, deciphering lyrics we think we hear, like messy acid disco and feels like candy going deeper.  And meanwhile, all around us, thanks to Francois Roupinian: those lights!  Watercolor washes.  Splashes of flash and dust storms of color, all across the plains of Stade Olympique. 

For a lark, we follow the sign CHILL OUT: LOW VOLTAGE—and find ourselves in the chill out stands, where we have a panoramic surround sound Technicolor vista of everything on da skate flo below.  And whom do we meet but Nurse Cracker’s Japanese sister, asking us, “Got a light?  Got a light?  Got a light?” 

From there, we head into the Alternator Room, from which Gabriel & Dresden hold forth, and where members of the Worship-the-DJ denomination gather.  There’s a truly stellar altar-like deejay booth.  Whoa!  Serious!  And we hear about a friend of a friend who idolizes G&D so much that he’s convinced one of them has come down into the congregation to shake his hand—only to find out later that it wasn’t G&D, but rather their lighting man. 

Then again, it was dark in there…

Back out in the House Generator Room, on the main floor, we’re happy again in the thick of Black and Blue—with Moody and Kat Coric.  And as we edge closer to the stage, it’s the second production number: Patrick Guay’s choreographed Positronic Nightlife, starring Kiki and the BBCM dancers.  We’re in prime position to witness the Janet and Madonna mash-up: in control—and down with our peeps. 

And then, and then, and then—it’s Peter Rauhofer.  Nearly four a.m.—and talk about control.  The man takes over.  Everything Peter Rauhofer has learned, everything he’s practiced over the years—he lets it all out so that it spreads across the stadium in one enveloping sonic cloud and captures everyone in vicinity.  “The drama starts here,” says one lyric—but what’s happening on the floor is drama only so far as it’s totally captivating.  “Come on, work your magic, baby.”  And so he does.  It’s incredible to feel it pulsing through your body.  How it’s impossible to tear yourself away.  You head toward the bathroom, the bar—but the music pulls you back, keeps you on the floor.  We’re watching a sweet young volunteer—still with his shirt on—until he can’t resist any longer.  He peels off that shirt and sails it around his head.  He’s energy personified, unleashed by the power of Peter’s music. 

It’s that kind of energy: completely encompassing.  And there’s Nurse Cracker’s lil bro—and also that adorable zebra cowboy hat boytoy—and Joe Caro, of course, whose personal m.o. seems to be “Appear everywhere always.” And David Morgan and his ebullient, beatific friend Fernando.  It’s Fernando’s first time: to Montreal, to Black and Blue—and the man is positively glowing.  Radiant.  Incandescent.  To watch him, to see his face is a reminder to us all—how we looked that first time.  Our first Black and Blue.  The awe, the wonder.  The sheer joy of being here now.  Pull it close and hold it tight.  Save your place tonight.   

And all along, it’s Peter’s infectious beat carrying us through and over—and into the six a.m. hour—when it’s time for the AIDS memorial show, this year titled Septem Continens Oratorium.  Seven of Montreal’s fiercest dq’s process across the stage in elaborate gowns, each queen representing one of the planet’s continents—and as the operatic soundtrack from the film The Fifth Element rings Stade Olympique, the snow begins to fall.  Down from the heights of the stade’s roof—and onto the crowd below.  And meanwhile the Cirque Eos performer, Dominic Lacasse scales a solitary pole—until he’s perfectly horizontal above the crowd—and then still, he climbs heavenward, his feet appearing to skim the skies—and still, the snow falls…  Spirits above, dusting us with their presence…

How to go on—and yet, onward we roll through the morning as Mark Anthony takes over.  Is there any singular person more representative of a warm happy soul?  Mark Anthony with his zenlike presence—and his ability to move a crowd.  He asks, “Say, baby, what you want?” “Say What You Want (From Me)”—and what we want, all of us, is to keep on keeping on.  Keep the joy, keep the love.  Send it out, send it home.  Gimme a hug. 

And see you next year, for another dose of Black and Blue love. Mark the calendar now: Black and Blue 18,  8th-14th October 2008. Meetcha in Montreal.