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I’d Rather Swish Than Fight

My dear friend Lubin Odana (who is definitely not a Republican) was a more welcome surprise guest in our fair(y) city this week. Although I was only able to have one audience with Lubin and his gentleman companion, it was as delightful as ever.

Darling Lubin is an accomplished scholar of gay cultural history and connoiseur par excellence of all things kitsch and camp, so he's constantly unearthing the most astounding relics of our illustrious cultural heritage. (When I say "our" I mean the gays, because he's one of them foreigners.) I’m once again indebted to him for pointing me toward the Queer Music Heritage page, and especially its page about Camp Records.

Camp Records covers

Camp Records put out a few incredibly camp records. They're sort of awful but sort of brilliant — an invaluable nugget of their time, in the same vein as gay pulp novels that make you cringe and squeal with glee all at once. You really have to check out the site, where you can listen to the songs themselves and see the lo-fi magnificence of the sleeve art. The same way I retain a slight, Catholic preference for sinful sex, I have a slight, nostalgic preference for the days when gay pop culture was so marginalized and tawdry and campy at the same time.

(A tangent: If there's one thing I'll say about gay Republicans [out of the many things I could say], they sure don't make being gay seem like much fun, do they?)

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