Pal Joey

I've seen a lot of Joey Arias in my time. I first spied the world-renowned drag performer in Manhattan, where he was playing in a large, Kid Creole-like brass punk ensemble called Strange Party at the Peppermint Lounge or maybe Arthur's Continental. Who can remember? Then, Arias was nothing but bright shocks of red hair underneath a series of hats and turbans. Who knew he'd already been in the Los Angeles comedy troupe The Groundlings? The next time I saw him professionally was at a dress-rehearsal for SNL, where Arias and the late, great new-wave opera-teer Klaus Nomi would dance the robot and sing "The Man Who Sold the World" with David Bowie. Soon after, he would become the doyenne of the downtown art scene: hanging with Basquiat; playing "Dali" to Ann Magnuson's "Gaia"; running around with a wig full of snakes atop his head; eventually turning his powers of imitation into fine vocal art by becoming the singing, slurring Billie Holiday for an extended run at Bar d'O. The latter is what has defined him within the last decade. While his modulating, aching voice displays his most impassioned characteristics, his lean face and arched eyebrows carefully and brutally essay whatever pain or joy he can muster. Now, if you want to find him in the throes of more joyous performance, you must go to Las Vegas, where he's emceeing Cirque du Soleil's $70 million dollar show-of-shows Zumanity at New York-New York in Las Vegas. That is, unless you catch him during this, his only East Coast appearance, during a two-week break. Sometime co-conspirator Sherry Vine—big-in-Berlin cabaret singer and headmistress of Theatre Couture—joins Arias for a celebration of silliness.

A.D. Amorosi

performance art

I've seen a lot of Joey Arias in my time. I first spied the world-renowned drag performer in Manhattan, where he was playing in a large, Kid Creole-like brass punk ensemble called Strange Party at the Peppermint Lounge or maybe Arthur's Continental. Who can remember? Then, Arias was nothing but bright shocks of red hair underneath a series of hats and turbans. Who knew he'd already been in the Los Angeles comedy troupe The Groundlings? The next time I saw him professionally was at a dress-rehearsal for SNL, where Arias and the late, great new-wave opera-teer Klaus Nomi would dance the robot and sing "The Man Who Sold the World" with David Bowie. Soon after, he would become the doyenne of the downtown art scene: hanging with Basquiat; playing "Dali" to Ann Magnuson's "Gaia"; running around with a wig full of snakes atop his head; eventually turning his powers of imitation into fine vocal art by becoming the singing, slurring Billie Holiday for an extended run at Bar d'O. The latter is what has defined him within the last decade. While his modulating, aching voice displays his most impassioned characteristics, his lean face and arched eyebrows carefully and brutally essay whatever pain or joy he can muster. Now, if you want to find him in the throes of more joyous performance, you must go to Las Vegas, where he's emceeing Cirque du Soleil's $70 million dollar show-of-shows Zumanity at New York-New York in Las Vegas. That is, unless you catch him during this, his only East Coast appearance, during a two-week break. Sometime co-conspirator Sherry Vine — big-in-Berlin cabaret singer and headmistress of Theatre Couture — joins Arias for a celebration of silliness.

Joey Arias and Sherry Vine, Sun., Dec. 12, doors open 8 p.m., show 9 p.m., $20 (21+ with ID), L'Etage, 624 S. Sixth St. (at Bainbridge), 215-592-0656.