By Jon Ginoli
"We're the buttfuckers of rock-and-roll, we wish to sock it in your hole!" With those phrases written in a computing device, Jon Ginoli units off on a trip of self-discovery and musical ardour to develop into the founding member of Pansy department, the 1st out and proud queercore punk rock band to hit the semi-big time. Set opposed to the altering many years of song, we persist with the band from their inception in San Francisco, to their look for a track label and an enduring drummer to their present prestige as indie rock icons. We see the highs—touring with eco-friendly Day—and the lows—homophobic fans—of striving for attractiveness and good fortune on the earth of rock. Replete with the considered necessary stories of intercourse, medications, groupies, band fights and label battles, this rollicking memoir can be an impassioned account of staying precise to the inventive imaginative and prescient of queer rock'n'roll.
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Extra resources for Deflowered: My Life in Pansy Division
However, soon after that I met some dykes on the same wavelength; my next appearance, at the queer underground cabaret Klubstitute, was with a group I hadn’t heard of, the all-dyke band Tribe 8. It was my second public appearance, and it was theirs as well. But they had a whole band! It was crude but effective, and I was blown away. They were a perfect female parallel to what I was trying to do; to hell with the hopeful maybe of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” we wanted it now, not some indefinite someday.
It was called Faint of Heart, then later Rock & Roll Queer Bar. Successful as a monthly club, we went weekly about halfway through the year. My idea was that if gays would go to clubs to dance to music whose performers they were unaware of, they’d do the same at a gay rock club. We played a number of danceable but often obscure songs we liked, many of which were current. We didn’t want to do an oldies night, but we’d have drawn better if we had played more early ’80s stuff. Just as we were getting the hang of it, our bar got sold, and we were orphaned.
As soon as we had sex I was like the alien on his face, I couldn’t be separated from him. He would take me out to certain clubs, and I was scared because of the idea of Cruising—which I hadn’t even seen—but the whole idea of sleazy pickup bars creeped me out. I went to a few places with him and realized, god, they play crappy music in here. This was ’82, and why were they playing these songs that were six and seven years old? ugh! I was there with the burn-The-Bee-Gees-records thing on the football field at my high school; I wanted rock!
Deflowered: My Life in Pansy Division by Jon Ginoli