From the venue's
gigs website:
London clubland in the 1970s was a fairly dismal place. It compared very unfavourably with New York and many European cities and the concept of ‘clubbing’ as we understand the term today simply did not exist.
To that end a group of innovative characters got together and took over the site that was a run down old roller disco called Global Village and in December 1979 Heaven opened its doors for the first time. It was timed perfectly. Six months earlier Mrs Thatcher had been elected and an era began that saw unemployment rise to levels last seen in the 1930s. The sense of decay and gloom was palpable. The ‘Swinging London’ of the 1960s a distant memory. London needed a splash of colour and flamboyance to counter-balance the otherwise grey monochrome that was the reality of the British capital.
Heaven was the brainchild of Jeremy Norman, responsible for the Embassy Club, which was seen as the nearest London had to Studio 54 in New York. Heaven quickly became the focal point for what had until then been a fairly understated gay scene that hitherto had been based in small hidden cellar bars or pub discos. When Heaven opened its doors in 1979 only twelve years had elapsed since the decriminalisation of homosexuality, and at the time there was still a lot of overt prejudice against gay men and lesbians. Heaven bore the brunt of some of that intolerance and in those days was regarded warily by the authorities.
It did however establish itself as a club venue that constantly re-invented itself... There were periodic live shows featuring bands who fancied playing an off the wall venue rather than the usual spit and sawdust live music venues. New Order played their first London show here in 1981. Bauhaus were filmed at Heaven in 1982 performing their classic Bela Lugosi’s Dead, the footage for which was used in the Catherine Deneuve/David Bowie film The Hunger – one of the original ‘sexy vampire’ movies.
In 2008 MAMA Group went into partnership with G-A-Y founder Jeremy Joseph and purchased Heaven... Jeremy took over sole ownership of Heaven in 2013. G-A-Y was moved over from the Astoria, which was in the process of closing down, and this now occupies the main club sessions on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday and has featured notable performances since that time by Adele, Lady Gaga, Jessie J, Miley Cyrus, One Direction amongst many others.
The rest, as they say, is history.
And so it was that on Wednesday night a little gang of us joined a packed room of old regulars, together with hordes of new faces, in that legendary cavernous under-the-arches venue for a very special 40th anniversary event indeed - as "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari joined the party. And it was spectacular!
Our host Mr
Paul Burston was as proud as a new dad to be up there on the glittering stage that has previously played host to Kylie, Madonna and Britney, as he paid tribute to his experiences of first coming to Heaven as an out-of-town teen - then it was time for our first guest...
Our chum "Sexy Lexi"
Alexis Gregory has come a long way since we first knew him as bar whore at BarCode Soho. Playwright, award-winning writer, and - above all, as his performance here tonight ably demonstrated [notwithstanding the magnificence of his "immersive" play
Slap that we went to see back in 2015] - an accomplished actor. His latest play
Riot Act is actually a completely verbatim portrayal of the stories told by three gay pioneers [whom Lexi personally interviewed]: our very own Mr Burston (who was an activist in the UK in the days of ACT-UP); Miss
Lavinia Co-op, drag queen with Bette Bourne's
Bloolips troupe and veteran of the 1970s Gay Lib movement; and [the character he inhabited this evening] Michael-Anthony Nozzi, possibly the last survivor of the Stonewall riots in New York [which happened 50 years ago this year].
As Trinidad and Tobago gay activist
Jason Jones said in his review:
The Stonewall Riots of June 1969 are fairly well documented, but this first-hand and deeply personal account is full of subtle details and nuances that only someone who was truly present at that historic moment can capture and express.
Nozzi’s account is deeply profound as it captures the essence of what transpired nearly fifty years ago, and what the sparks were that lit the flames that night (Judy Garland RIP); it echoes today in a rather poignant manner as we see Pride celebrations across the world being mired in identity politics, infighting, commercialisation and seemingly losing relevance as to the original intended purposes.
When Alexis Gregory’s atmospheric raspy vocal of Nozzi talks about the blood and gore being everywhere, that even the coins from 'the wishing well', a glass jar that was inside of The Stonewall Inn to collect donations - which a drag queen smashed over a policeman’s head that night of the raid - had spilled out and were stuck to the pavement with blood, you are left wondering: what has LGBT activism become today, and are we too docile in fighting for our equal rights?
And so it was - I was on occasions left gasping for breath as Lexi brought this whole shocking and ground-breaking scenario to life, with the impeccably conveyed world-weary drawl of a New York resident remembering for the first time in years how empowering - if terrifying - the riot was. He still recalled:
"You know what's strange, I felt safer on the night of the riots, on the sidewalk in front of Stonewall, than I did in my own home town."
Shocking yet fabulous stuff. Here's Lexi himself talking about the play:
Our host Paul himself faced some effort to follow that! He did so admirably, of course, with an extract from his own latest novel, the psychological thriller
The Closer I Get - a tantalising snippet of the tale of best-selling author Tom and his coldly obsessive "stalker" Evie; he set the scene at a stage where the obsession seems apparently to have taken them as far as the courts, yet Evie refuses to let it be:
Listening to all the legal arguments today, I was struck by a number of things. One: what a mess we've made for ourselves! Two: what clever bastards these lawyers are. They twist everything, don't they? And three: wouldn't it be easier if we just sorted this our between ourselves?
I know we tried before, that night I waited for you outside your flat. Maybe if you'd invited me in instead of freaking out and calling the police, we could have resolved our differences there and then. We still could. It's not too late. Why make is harder than it needs to be? I'm willing to forgive and forget if you are.
Promise me you'll think about it. Sleep on it and email me in the morning. And if I don't hear from you, at least I'll know where I stand.
And I'll see you tomorrow in court.
Yours,
Evie
Chilling.
An evening of such impressive stature wouldn't be complete, of course, if one didn't get "Varjacked"! And by that, I of course refer to the one-woman whirlwind that is Ms
Paula Varjack, lesbian-bisexual poetry's answer to Beyoncé...
We first saw the divine Ms V yonks ago,
in 2011 in fact. She stunned us then, and she stunned us again, with her vehemently defiant readings of classics such as
Dear Straight Girl [follow the link earlier in this paragraph for that] and more from her vast catalogue, plus this [or at least a brief extract thereof, courtesy of our host Paul] - a sublime musical monologue/paean to her own first encounter with our host venue, created especially for the evening:
We love being Varjacked.
We've enjoyed the complete lunacy of the "Writer-in-Residence at the 197 bus stop on Croydon Road in Penge"
Barbara Brownskirt many times before, of course. However, when accompanied/introduced by her very own cagoule-clad dance combo "The Brownskirts", we were in fits of laughter! Suitably fired-up by this Terpsichorean spectacle, we lapped up Ms B's delightfully tacky odes including
Fabergé Eggs (Between Your Legs),
Cruelty-Free Shoes and, of course, the crowd-pleaser
Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!
Ms Karen McLeod, the woman behind the brown skirt, is an absolute genius...
Not to be outdone, the living icon that is
Neil Bartlett, OBE - acclaimed writer, theatrical impresario and director, gay rights campaigner and utterly mesmerising thesp - took to the stage of the venue that was at one time his "second home". His monologue, all about his discovery of Hi-NRG pop, poppers and sleazy sex - with
three men, in a cubicle, in the club [nah, Ive never done
that; much] - all courtesy of Heaven in its heyday, led to a most bizarre conclusion.
Reciting, as Mr Bartlett did, the lyrics as if they were profound poetry, the audience found themselves singing along as one to (ahem)... Miss Belinda Carlisle!
Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?
Ooh heaven is a place on earth
They say in heaven love comes first
We'll make heaven a place on earth
Ooh heaven is a place on earth
When I feel alone
I reach for you
And you bring me home
When I'm lost at sea
I hear your voice
And it carries me
In this world we're just beginning
To understand the miracle of living
Baby I was afraid before
But I'm not afraid anymore
I will look at that song in a very different light forever more.
Finally, headlining an evening of poetry, prose, drama, monologues and dance - a singer extraordinaire! Ms Adele Anderson (for it is she) is another beloved artiste here at Dolores Delargo Towers - we've seen her several times as a founding member of
Fascinating Aida, and as
a part of the ensemble of artistes hosted by the irrepressible Eve Ferret in her show. Now it was her turn as a solo act to provide the thrills...
She certainly didn't disappoint! Opening with a faboo "German" number - all "Marlene Dietrich-esque" growling vocals and and playing upon the homophone "Weill/Vile" - Adele just owned that stage for the next twenty minutes or so. Here's a clip [courtesy of Paul B again]:
Her takes on
Tell Laura I Love Her, a number with which we are unfamiliar which I think was called
Baby Let Me Wear Your Clothes, and - in particular - her stalker-ish take on the otherwise camp classic
I Who Have Nothing were all fantastic. The audience gave her a much-deserved standing ovation.
This was just as well, as, following the customary "curtain call", the club's minions set to work collecting the chairs, and the DJ Dave Cross ascended to the stage...
...as he was setting up, we went outside en masse for a fag - and just so happened to bump into Our Sal, dragged her into the club, and we all had a bop for the rest of the evening to a load of 70s-80s-90s anthems. I ached. Oh, I ached...
It was one of the most fantabulosa nights out I can recall in a long time.
Our next outing for Polari looks particularly interesting, as the headliner is activist, writer and film producer (
Milk) Dustin Lance Black. I am hoping his hubby, and avowed lust object of mine, Tom Daley turns up - I have my tickets. And clean knickers ready... Also appearing are authors Collin Kelley, Kelleigh Greenberg-Jephcott and Angela Chadwick.
We love
Polari!
