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Michael Jackson returned from the dead
for Alegria Halloween - and while his
body looks better than ever, his face
needs some work.
But then the corps of Alegria zombie
boys surrounding him onstage looked
equally debauched and delicious - as if
the afterlife is as much a sweaty hot
gym made for perfecting six-packs as it
is an infernal oven searing skin down to
bone.
Even the fabled Alegria ball had been
recovered from the depths of disco hell
- but not without a struggle. An entire
forearm split apart the Alegria ball,
reaching out for any sweet pretty young
thing within reach.
All through the night, the dance floor
at Best Buy Theatre was packed with a
spider web of arachnids and their prey.
A surfeit of black widows and tarantulas
darted and danced through a tangle of
gym bunnies and newsboys, butterflies
and horny rams, King Tut and the
Doublemint Twins, drunken sailors,
winged eagles, Sherlock and Elphaba, the
Scarecrow, the Naked Chef and Elvis, all
riotously happy to find themselves in
the grip of delirium and poised for
descent into the deep dark netherworld.
As the Alegria invitation stated, "For
no mere mortal can resist, the evil of
the thriller..." Those hypnotic lyrics
from Jackson's song about the joys of
fear, particularly in a darkened theatre
while in the clutches of Hollywood - and
with someone to hold - were particularly apt
for an Alegria event held in what was
once the Loews Theatre, one of the
largest single movie screen theatres in
all of New York.
If it's been a while since you've heard
DJ Abel - if, for example, you've been
on the road or at other parties around
the world - then you might find yourself
extremely happy to be back in the
clutches of one of the world's most
contagious beatmasters. Abel opened the
night with a set that steadily built,
layer upon layer, creating churning
rhythms that were completely pervasive
and persistent. All along the rafters
and railings and across the crowded
floor, zombies and witches and hustlers
and hos worked it to the bone. As much a
Dionysian rite as a pagan ritual,
Alegria Halloween was a collective
cathartic exercise in purging our inner
demons while embracing the dark beat.
As with all things that we love in life,
it's possible that you might take for
granted all the joys that we associate
with Alegria. In which case, you have
only to wander away for a while, and
frequent other parties in lesser
locales, to realize what a splendid
phantasmagoria is Alegria at Halloween.
The costume contest at four-thirty was a
walk through the bowels of purgatory,
with Coneheads and Smurfs, Spider Woman
and samurai warriors - and a winning
triumvirate that included a white-wigged
and -powdered, bedizened Marie Condom-nette,
alongside the ferocious and fabulous
progeny of Medusa and an iguana, as well
as a trio of day-glo techno boys whose
collective energy would have left the
Energizer bunny at the starting gate.
Ric Sena's set was a brilliantly
realized Alegria cemetery from which
zombies emerged from crypts to crawl and
stagger across the moonlit stage, which
throbbed with the pulsating blood-red
lights. Stephen Wyker was the wizard
behind the lighting who kept the floor
as dark and menacing as a haunted house.
At six am, that house belonged to DJ
Alyson Calagna who threw down a
mesmerizing set that kept the zombies
enthralled through noon. An after-hours
queen, a woman in touch with her own
vampire, Calagna plays for those who
love the journey as much as the
destination. As cerebral as it is
pelvic, her music is for those who seek
the light within darkness - and for
those who search for release.
For, in the end, isn't that the essence
of Alegria Halloween: a release from
hell into the joys of dance and music. |
