In case we weren't clear previously, what took place at the BBC Taproom as part of the Louisville Theatre Hop was most assuredly not a Voraxium show, despite having originally been billed as such.Hostess and emcee Jennifer Ray announced at the very outset that due to certain factors that would not be named, there'd been a change of plans and the program for the evening would now instead be "Friends of the Voraxium", and would essentially be a stripped-down minimalist performance art piece in which mostly nothing happens. And oh my goodness, darling, did we ever deliver.
It's come to our attention that some folks were confuzzled by what they saw. Good. Some complained that it "wasn't burlesque". Yes, we know. Voraxica is not burlesque. Voraxica is to the 21st century what burlesque was to the 19th and 20th. But you know, even having said that, some people need to be reminded that if what they saw at the BBC that didn't fit their idea of what "burlesque" is, then they need to re-educate themselves. Here, let us help:
The original true Burlesque shows, way back in the day, like before your parents were born, literally meant a deliberately lame hodgepodge variety show, usually held in a crappy venue, usually consisting of bad songs by inept performers, and jokes from comedians who weren't very funny. Originally it had very little to do with striptease and "hot chicks" dancing for your pleasure. If you walked away from the BBC show disappointed that you didn't see strippers, well, hey, sorry about your luck, Jack.
Does this mean there's no nudity in Voraxium shows? Oh, heck no, we run around stark naked at the drop of a hat when we're feelin' it. But if we show up and decide that our performance for the evening will be to play Scrabble in Aunt Bee hats while you get the privilege of watching us exclaim "triple word score!", then like it or lump it, buster.
To be fair, we certainly understand that the mass-market pop-culture appropriation of the "burlesque" meme has led many to the popular misconception that a burlesque event is supposed to consist of women in faux-retro Betty Page haircuts, either flouncing around with a feather boa and high heels, or looking like a Suicide Girls wanna-be goth dominatrix reject, or both; either doing some sort of weak "trying to be old school" boop-boop-a-doop striptease or trying for modern hipster shock value like cutting into your flesh with huge hooks as a burlesque act, or both.
We ain't really into any of that, honey-bunny. Sorry. I said it before but I guess nobody heard me.
Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I must strenuously repeat, this was not a burlesque show, and it most certainly was not, not, NOT a Voraxium show. (But you may not like an actual Voraxium show either. We're not for everyone. Certainly not for the faint of heart or short of sight.)
At the recent controversial show in question, however, you got skits and snappy repartee with a crossdresser and a peculiar eccentric woman dressed like Uncle Sam's stepdaughter. You got amazing leftist-Ayn Rand-inspired songs from said woman, giving you a rare sneak preview of what one day will be her very successful musical. You got the amazing and mysterious winged dancer Ten - her name is just "Ten", like, nine plus one, dig? - who gave the public far more dancing than they deserved. And most important of all, you got the marathon live art-modeling session with Terry showing much skin and spinning tasty yarn, and for that alone, we rule. Yes we do.
I think Jennifer Ray summed it up best when she declared to the crowd (after her third Altbier): "We're not here for your amusement! You're here for ours!"
Even funnier, the real striptease show took place outside, around the corner, in Nanny Goat Strut, just minutes after almost everyone left, for those in the know. If you weren't there, then you missed it. Those that were are now die-hard fans!
