A Honky Château Overrun by Drunk-ass Muppets


Jason Sellards and Scott Hoffman (oh, wait—make that Jake Shears and, fuck, well, OK, Babydaddy) may be two of the best songwriters working right now, and we may never know it. Arch and ostentatious, their music both falls victim to and exalts in Warhol’s 15-minutes-of-fame declaration. Like a screenprint of a soup can, it’s at once timeless and pointless. Take “I Can’t Decide.” Contrary to what you might have heard, these folks aren’t strict Giorgio Moroder disciples; they dig the Muppets too. Check this tune’s chorus, with its hee-haw lope, banjo, jaw-harp, and Fozzie and Rowlf on backup vocals. OK, not that last thing. Point is: If it happened between ’76 and ’85, it’s fair game. Prince, Elton, Heart, Pat Benatar (like, a buttload of Pat Benatar), Desperately Seeking Susan, Susan Sontag, Keith Herring—why is this stuff so huge only in the U.K. when it’s so quintessentially Downtown? Conversely, if no one ever found out Freddie Mercury was gay, this grandiose cock rock would kill in Duluth. A good touchstone: Halloween in the West Village. Feather boas, queens dressed up like Carmen Miranda on acid on steroids, the whole thing one big costumed romp, an orgy, a parade, a cataclysm—everyone’s drunk, on drugs, on fire. One of the best times all year. And I was so wasted I can’t even remember. Ta-Dah may very well be what rock ‘n’ roll is all about. Times so good they might as well not exist.