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Concrete Cowgirls
September 7th, 2009It is Labor Day in San Francisco, which means it is again time for cowgirls gone wild.
Few parts of San Francisco are wilder than the Mission District. Mission mavens are ‘colorful’ in the same sense that parrots and flamingos are and Liberace was. Mission residents are not considered properly dresses unless their tattoos are visible (ladies) and at least one silver facial piecing is in place (men, trannies and hermaphrodites). Unskewered and uncolored clods like me are voyeuristic rubes and barely tolerated.
As you can imagine, the Mission is littered with funky dive bars of variable reputation, safety and sanitary status. A star among these swill houses is the El Rio, a joint that is happy in its marginally controlled sanity. Aside from having a just-above-grimy local bar appeal, the El sports a large outdoor patio where the live music happens.
On Labor Day the cowgirls own the joint, and if you don’t like country music, they might rectally insert a boot into you (which in the Mission passes as sexual recreation and a polite gesture).
Cowgirl Palooza is the event’s name and normally no testicles are allowed to front a band (Four Year Bender is playing this year, which I will not complain about but which is somewhat out of kilter). Kitty Rose, Starlene and other regulars are scheduled.
Most interesting in the mix is, of course, Mighty Slim Pickins. This collection of diesel dykes always sucks the air out the audience. An equal mixture of serious rockabilly with somewhat sinister showwomanship and the unmistakable San Francisco in-your-face queerdom always makes for an interesting set.
Cowgirl Palooza is, in one way, an essence of San Francisco. People from across America land here for very different reasons and stay for mainly for one. Since there is a little of everything in San Francisco, there is always a place for each cluster to commune. It should surprise nobody that countrified bull lesbians formed a band, and have near-constant stage time and appreciative audiences, including straight ex-cowboys.
Oh, and the reason all the assorted people stay in San Francisco is our secret.
