Performance Travelling Overstimulates Me

I'm sitting in the BWI airport on the return leg of my trip to Washington DC, where I spent the weekend joining the Evil League of Ecdysiasts (a burlesque producer duo comprised of Gigi Holliday and Cherie Sweetbottom) for "Whedonism," their annual Joss Whedon tribute show. For the record, this weekend was a ton of fun and I wanted to share that with you. If you're a Whedon nerd and find yourself in Washington DC about this time next year, I would highly recommend you clear your schedule.

I also had a lot of downtime to think about things this weekend, on account of this being my first air-travel trip to another city to perform. I was simultaneously excited and flattered to have the chance to do it, and Whedonism was quite the experience. Cherie had asked me to bring up my "Spike" and "Captain America" acts, which are two of my personal favorites, and then brought me out to see Hot Todd Lincoln host his monthly show the next evening at the Bier Baron (a hotel/bar venue I had never been to despite many DC trips previously). All in all, I got to have an exciting weekend and meet a new community of great performers I wouldn't have had the chance to meet otherwise, and to get to know a performance scene I'd only heard great things about.

They let me do Spike! With Miranda Lookinglass as Cordelia.

For those of you who know my dad, you'll know that he's not the biggest fan of what I do 'on the weekends.' But since he's a huge fan of Buffy and an even bigger fan of Billy Idol, (and it happened to be Father's Day) I called him up to tell him about how much fun the whole show was, and that I loved him and might show up to family dinner in costume. That's how excited I was about this whole trip.

So what were the things I thought the most about in transit? I'm glad you asked.

In many places, male burlesque performers are a rarity.

I wasn't sure what to expect form the male performers in the nation's capital, but I kept having this idea that there were a lot of them. Having been to DC several times prior to visit my brother when he was living there, I knew that there was a vibrant gay scene, and burlesque performance tends to go hand in hand. With that said, the only male-presenting burlesque performers I met were relatively new; Baron Atomy and Danny Cavalier were two that I had met in person, the former whom I watched do a brand new concept-fresh-to-stage ice cream man strip followed immediately by a fire performance. I'd never seen a fire performance done indoors, and wasn't expecting that--but local laws and the venue both seemed cool with it (see what I did there?).

I got a similar feeling when I first performed with Lady Luck Burlesque in Portsmouth, NH. Sometimes, you are the only guy in the room, and the crowd and other performers will be looking to you to show them what a guy doing burlesque looks like. I decided that I do kinda like being an ambassador in that regard. I'd better not get caught slippin'.

...or else you'll have to sit on the ground near a bus station. With a newspaper. Or something.

Travelling is tiring/requires planning.

Two things that I'm diametrically averse to are planning things (more on this later), and being exhausted. I don't know why this always happens, but travelling makes me just want to nap. Thanks to Cherie Sweetbottom who suggested an afternoon nap time on Saturday, as this is exactly what I wanted. Work beckons and all that, but sleep is great too.

I knew I had to try and maximize my activity while I was out of town to both take advantage of my journey and to combat the costs of travel, and that required some advance planning. I'm notoriously shitty at managing my schedule, but was able to offer some available wisdom for aspiring male performers in the area. 

The point of travelling to do burlesque gigs elsewhere is truly self-defined.

I was asked by Chip Rox why I felt compelled to go to another city to do the same acts I do on Boston's stages. Was I not satisfied with being relatively in-demand in my home town?

I had to really think about this. Is it fulfilling to travel to new places and give them their first experience of what you're all about? Absolutely. Is it fun to see other performers and what ideas they have for the stage? Most definitely. Is it fun to broaden your performance network, make new friends, and connect dots between prevailing reputations and performers in the flesh? Hell yes.

But what I think is most satisfying for me is getting to be a key piece of someone else's vision. It's the most flattering thing for me to know that someone else needs what I'm about to bring, and to be humbly in service to a production that calls to you from across the expanse.

That might have been the most delightfully tacky way to say it, but I don't think I can do better. You're welcome?

I was fortunate to not have had to travel in this manner specifically. Pictured; The Expanse.

You're really limited in how you promote yourself when you travel.

I felt like being in DC was a unique experience, in that I couldn't really market myself or the show I was in too effectively, since I didn't know anybody in town. The two people I was previously familiar with prior to this were both in the show alongside me. So in that regard, I had to let go.

Producer me was silently panicking about it, since I know filling seats is in everyone's best interest. But in the end it turned out okay, everyone got paid, nobody died, and I think even some people had fun. And that's pretty neat.

When I was in Provincetown, I saw two performers I had met previously who were getting their hustle on outside the venue. While it makes more sense in a tourist destination like Provincetown to hand out flyers to fill your own seats, it's not always a viable tactic in every town you go to. 

"HEY NEW YORK, COME TO THIS SHOW I'M DOING! YOU'LL LOVE IT!!"

Getting to travel to do shows rings the ego bell, and I gotta keep that in check.

As a rule of thumb, you should always be grateful for opportunities that come your way, and I'm perpetually surprised and flattered that people like the work I do and want to see it again and again. Since I started visiting other cities, I've found myself repeatedly self-assessing the person I was and still am becoming. Prior to this trip, I had several moments when I was faced with the choice of whether or not to go and do a gig out of town, and without thinking, checked my schedule to see if I could, and then said I would as soon as I knew I could. I've been finding myself saying more and more frequently things like "they need me, so I have to go," which on the surface feels like a selfless choice to help a producer out with his or her vision. It took some raw moments of honesty with myself to realize that this is something my ego sees as a way to win some new source of reputation and recognition, and that I need to make sure I'm giving the 'why' enough thought before I jump right in and commit.

One of the consequences of not doing that is that it teases out some negative aspects of my personality, and I have to be super aware of those little demons as I recognize them; self-importance, overconfidence, feeling needy for attention, boastfulness, deafness to the needs of others, and those who are important to me.

Ultimately, I have to keep reminding myself that burlesque is really just a fun hobby, and that we all love the attention we get from being on stage. We're not feeding and clothing the poor, and most of us are not making enough to call it a good living. It's a good exercise in awareness for me, and I gotta be better about doing it.

Yummy Hearts and I were not on our way to a clothing drive, nor a soup kitchen.

Some afterthoughts;

Although I wrote the majority of this after having left DC, I've since revisited and edited this after a weekend with Liberty Rose and crew in Philadelphia. All of it still rings pretty true, with the added note that I'd never performed at a con before (look up #toomanygames2016 or #broadstreetburlesque if you're curious), and that I hadn't found a better home for my Link character from Legend of Zelda. Seriously, there was so much love in that room for all of the Smash Brothers characters, and I felt it so intensely. A group of dudes all came up to me and asked if we could all take a group shirtless photo, and it was a level of brazen boldness I'd not yet seen from fans. I've just never experienced that kind of character fanaticism before, and it was amazing and humbling at the same time.

I also realized that a big part of travel is getting to experience a place, but not in quite the same way you would as a standard tourist. Burlesque performers generally have a similar taste in bars, restaurants, and activities, and I really enjoyed rolling deep as fuck with fierce performers like Liberty Rose, Dangrrr Doll, Margot Starlux, Hattie Harlowe, Morrighan Oh Tulle, and others to the nearest taqueria bar to eat soy tacos and play Ghostbusters pinball. And thanks for taking me to Wawa. I still don't quite understand, but at least I have the experience to dwell on.

Getting a first time Wawa experience courtesy of Liberty Rose. It was gentle and sweet.

Some musings on bus travel;

Bus travel pros; you can sleep, you personally don't have to deal with traffic.
Bus travel cons; Unpredictable schedule, wifi does not work as promised, guy in front of me who jacked his seat back all the way.
Bus travel chaotic neutral; Every rest stop had a Popeye's or a Burger King, which both excited and nearly destroyed me.

Finally, something I realized about being on the road was that I was going to miss all the good shows in my hometown while I was gone. While I was Spike on stage in DC for "Whedonism," my friends back in Boston were putting on another wildly successful "Once More with Pasties" Buffy burlesque show and I didn't get to see it. I also missed the "Burlesque Against Humanity" show put on by my friends at Rogue Burlesque, and I never like missing their events.

But while I was sad about missing those incredible shows, I also know that they're not the last shows I'll ever see, and that it's just as important to put time into being a fan as it is in furthering your own stage rep. Thank you all for sitting through my proverbial projector show about my glamorous vacation, and I wish safe travels to the rest of you.

The Workout Paradox

One of the topics that I find goes rather unfortunately arm-in-arm with the topic of striptease performance is the issue of "working out" or "being in shape." It's the ever-present, borderline shameful, basement-level accompaniment that lurks around the corner and just out of sight when discussing an artform that glorifies near-nakedness. As my second installment of Dale's All-Male Yardsale Amateur Showcase approaches and I scour the landscape for new willing participants to perform, I am continually hearing the same reasons for apprehension that used follow me around, and I think it's high time to discuss those fears. Although I've alluded to the compulsion to work out in previous blogs, I think there's enough here to stimulate a thorough discussion in its own place.

I'd like to acknowledge that as a male-bodied performer, I have the privilege of not necessarily being judged by my appearance first and foremost. I also want to make sure I draw a clear delineation between being "physically fit" and "healthy," as I want to focus on the former for the purposes of this article. Also, those are not the same things.

The first thing I want to say to you if you're new to burlesque and thinking about performing at some point; YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE IN PHENOMENAL SHAPE TO PERFORM BURLESQUE.

Period.

...no matter WHAT the VHS boxed set says.

Every time I meet a burlesque newcomer who has only just seen a performance for the first time recently, I always encourage them to try out burlesque performance if they want to. Regardless of gender, I always get some version of the following comment in response to my suggestion;

"Oh, I have to go hit the gym for at least a few months before I would even think about trying it."

It makes me a sad to hear, mainly because despite the way we present our varied body types and abilities to the general public, their individual response is to counter with self-shame. Despite the fact that there's no fitness standard to burlesque performance (because it's not the Marines), people are still very intimidated by the mere concept of people judging their physical form. And they do--we ALL do that involuntarily, to some degree. What you're effectively doing is showing your body to a room full of strangers. Once you make peace with that, you can really do anything you want, and moving past that initial insecurity is what makes burlesque performance a truly liberating experience--NOT the state of the physical vessel you present.

I've been fortunate enough to have my own thoughts and feelings on that change over the 6 years I've been doing burlesque. While I've always been somewhat athletic, I was never in peak physical form. For some perspective, here's how I started out;

When it was just myself and two other guys several years ago, I kind of resented the idea of having to maintain a physical appearance in order to perform striptease. While the other guys looked at it as a logical progression and began to encourage me to participate in group weight lifting sessions, I grew frustrated and withdrawn.

What it really came down to was that I resented being told that I had to fit an arbitrary standard in a medium where we were, in theory, encouraged to accept each other as is, in whatever physical form we presented. I found it upsetting that before I worked on any other skills that might have helped me transcend as a performer such as dance training or flexibility, I was being told I had to make sure I was desirable enough to look at. It pissed me off.

The weird thing is, guys put a ton of pressure on each other to be physically strong and capable. Society tells men that they don't necessarily have to be pretty, but they do have to be able to fight another dude if the situation arises. Your worth as a provider and someone to be desired might have roots in how much physical labor you can perform, which is a decidedly different standard than what my female-bodied friends are expected to fit. In fact, most male burlesque that celebrates the masculine form relies on those tropes to power the acts.

....unless it's a Top Gun act, in which case all bets are off. Photo by Jon Beckley.

As it pertains to burlesque, Nina La Voix told me that being physically fit makes her a better performer on stage. "I feel like my body moves better and my self confidence levels are boosted when I'm on my regular fitness routine."

"Physical fitness can prevent injuries on stage. Taking care of your body... conditioning... knowing it's limits.. building strength... and overall body awareness in general, makes for a better performance. Your body is your tool, and you only get one." Nina said.

I would agree that training one's self physically is a great way to feel more capable about what you present to your audience, though isn't something that should ever be attached as a necessity to burlesque performance. Treating your physical self in the best way you know how is necessary for living a long life, but isn't even reomtely a stage requirement.

"Do what makes you feel like your best version of you. That's what body positivity is all about. But when the importance of being physically fit and fitting a specific body type is placed on you from others (specifically producers) that's when it is dangerous," said Philadelphia-based Taylor Sweet.

Taylor Sweet

And that's a great point, though it does help me identify some privilege I have as a male burlesque performer: I've never had to confront a producer or venue that placed an unfair standard on my body, though I do know many female performers who have. The demands that the management at Lucky Pierre's placed on Ruby Rage come immediately to mind, and it's an ugly reality to have to consider when deciding what your personal brand should be.

I'm in a male-bodied burlesque group which has a decidedly masculine aesthetic. While none of us went into the discipline thinking we were Chippendale's dancers (I even parody the rigorous Chippendale's standards in an act I perform with Butch Sassidy), we somehow incidentally each took on an ostensibly fit phenotype, and whether it's reflective of the demand that society has for our niche or a side effect of the confidence we've gained as we've leveled up our performance chops is unclear.

All this is to say that Sirlesque has a specific "brand" that we're pushing, and we each take on skills and train in certain disciplines that advance us professionally. If you're a dude who is not looking to build up a beefcake aesthetic, it really doesn't serve your purposes to head to the gym with your fellow bros 5 times a week. But if you want to learn how to do a aerial silks striptease, you might consider following in Jack Silver's footsteps and spend some time in a circus gym.

Therein lies the eponymous paradox. While I can't deny that my stage presence and confidence overall has improved due in some part to the attention I've been giving my physical form in the last couple years, I would never consider "working out" a necessary component of burlesque performance.

Similarly, Anja Keister and I had a lengthy discussion about that; "In burlesque we often say that our "bodies are our instruments" or "our tools for expression."

So it only makes sense to "customize" our product to fit the brand we provide. There are many ways to do this.

"Maybe you dress it up in fancy costumes. Maybe you paint it (makeup) and dye it to look a certain way. Maybe you get physical enhancements like breast implants or other cosmetic surgery. Maybe you take acting classes to be better at expression on stage. Maybe you take dance classes for choreography. Maybe you work out to tone, lose weight, or strengthen the body. These are all ways to customize your "burlesque product" to better sell it to an audience," said Anja.

Anja Keister, photo by Adrian Buckmaster

Anja mentioned that what resonates with her audience and fanbase is more important than hitting a specific physical characterization.

"Like if I want to sell a 'mainstream classic burlesque product,' sure, physical fitness is important. If I was doing aerial or lyra, it would be important. But, not for who I am currently selling to. I am a weird, nerdy burlesque clown. It's not a customization I "need." Sure, I want it, but want to have a product my audiences respond to," Anja said.

In looking at how I was brought into burlesque performance, I learned the importance of punchline comedy and immersive storytelling, which largely shaped what I consider important. Learning to do erotic striptease was something that I hadn't considered important at the time, but began to work into my repertoire as I honed that skill, and the physical aspect of performance was a late add in the game, as I decided I wanted the physical ability to perform acrobatic and strength-based feats as one part of my performance catalog. What I want to show on stage is a direct reflection of what I work on when I'm off stage, and only recently has physical ability been a relevant part of that.

It certainly isn't a blanket necessity for the discipline of burlesque, and I would never tell a newcomer that it's even remotely important. Now, we just need to make sure our audiences understand that, which isn't exactly a short order. This is all a part of the incipient discussion when distinguishing "burlesque" from "stripping," and a conversation we're all constantly having with the people we're seeking to educate.

Burlesque as a Business

Alternatease, Boston's Annual Neo-Burlesque Festival just wrapped for the weekend, and what a weekend it was. I love getting the chance to celebrate neo-burlesque with like-minded performers, and ALL of them brought the weird. There were too many good ones to name, but the ones that stuck out the most for me were Cherie Nuit's fanny-pack-ridden travelogue strip, Bustee Keaton's Ayn Rand masterpiece, and the Lipstick Criminals, who won Top Banana with their finger-light mega-art extravagance.

Alternatease Ta Ta's Competition - Photo by Hans Wedland

It all got me thinking about what goes into the production aspect of burlesque. For a weekend festival to have gone so smoothly, so many things had to go just so. There was precision in the way that it was handled, and I wanted to discuss the inner workings of production in the burlesque world with one of my own burlesque idols, Jane Doe. Not only is Jane Doe one of the three producers on the team responsible for making Alternatease happen for three years running, but she's one of the fiercest, most committed performers I've ever met across any discipline.

Jane Doe - Photo by Roger Gordy

Dale Stones - "So what makes a good producer? What are your unconditional beliefs or guarantees?"

Jane Doe - "Communication (clear and frequent, but not excessive) – I think it’s important to let the people you book know what’s going on, when they’re expected to be where, that they know about anything that’s different than usual, etc. But you also don’t want them to have to read a different book-length email every day. Bullet points are your friend. Be available and responsible. Make sure your cast and crew have your phone number AND your email so they can get you if they need you.

Flexibility – Shit can and will go wrong. Ticket sales may suck. People will get sick, props will change, acts that you didn’t think would be messy end up trashing the stage. Just try and roll with it. Once it’s done, all you can do is figure out how to move forward.

Honesty – Everything works better if everyone is honest. Across the board.

Kindness & manners – Full disclosure: rudeness is my pet peeve. Manners are free, and kindness goes a loooong way. Your cast, crew, and audience are everything. They should feel welcome, and wanted, and special. If you have all the hallmarks of a good producer but you’re an asshole, no one is going to want to work with you.

DS - "And what do you feel are your responsibilities versus those of the contracted performers, and the venue?"

JD - "You should be the point of contact with the venue. It’s one thing to ask the performers for help with logistical/tech-related questions on their acts (obviously they know their own work the best), but if you’re getting pushback on something, you should be the one dealing with that, and communicating anything necessary to the performer yourself."

DS - "Could you go into detail about a situation where your terms weren't honored, what happened, and what you learned from that?"

JD - "I was booked for a private party at a local night club, and had in fact given up another paying gig on the same night. After confirming multiple times both in person and via email, I found out during a casual conversation with another performer that they were cancelling the burlesque portion of the evening. I texted the booker directly to ask him what was going on, since he hadn’t even contacted me, and I absolutely would’ve just showed up at my agreed-upon and confirmed call time. He responded with what essentially amounted to “Oops. Things have changed.”

Even though we had confirmed multiple times via email, I realized after the fact that we had never put the rate in writing. As a result, I didn’t have many options in the way of recourse, and ended up just losing money on the evening. So now, if I don’t know a producer, I’m super adamant about making sure that I have absolutely everything in writing."

DS - "All good stuff! Thank you."

JD - "Thanks Dale!"

Jane Doe, front right, organizing outings like a boss.

I didn't have time to cover every topic with Jane Doe, as she was in elbows-deep making sure Alternatease went off without a hitch.

I did want to discuss the issue of money specifically (in the production circuit specifically, not including festivals), as it is one that often times gets glossed over when discussing the details of an upcoming show or production involving artists. On the producer's side, the reasons could range from initial costs which exceed expectation to personal financial instability, to even lack of confidence in being able to market a show to a large enough crowd, just to list a couple of examples. I think it's important to take a stand on a few key topics about money in performance, and here are mine;

I believe that every contract performer I pay should be given a guarantee. Often, a performer has to gauge his or her willingness to perform in your show based on their own budget. If someone has to incur more expenses than the producer is willing to compensate for, the performer suffers if they decide to book the gig. If the performer you want to book has a close budget, this often means losing you that performer for your show. Add to that, if you're counting on a well-known performer being a highlight in your lineup, not offering a confident guarantee means that those performer's fans might not decide to attend, losing you money.

On top of that, giving a confident guarantee means that you're now motivated to make sure your show does well. The thing that makes credit so menacing is that you're expected to pay it back. Investing in producing a good show is no exception, and people give you a good show when they know their efforts are being valued--and confidence in who you're booking makes all the difference.

I won't keep secrets about what I pay people. If people know what you're paying and you keep your rates and promises consistent, people will treat you as a professional. If nobody knows when or even IF you're paying them, they'll be hesitant to work with you in the future, or even trust you. Plus, I used to work in the restaurant business. People talk to each other about what they make all the time. So you don't want to seem dodgy for paying two people doing the same job wildly different rates. Or, if you do--you'd better be able to justify why.

You should also be able to document what you pay people and when, because getting a full-arm ham-fisting from Uncle Sam may be a great burlesque act concept, but it's a sobering problem off-stage; you don't want to be unable to prove that you paid people or that you didn't earn income from performing and producing ever in your life. The IRS doesn't like that.

*Actual footage of an IRS audit.

Going back 5 years, I wish I'd been more organized and up-to-date on my tax stuff, because the amount I've had to pay in penalties and previous-years' taxes has cost me thousands upon thousands of dollars. And I'm not sure I'm even done paying yet. That shit sucks.

I will pay more than the guarantee if the show does well, never less. I was speaking to a musician friend of mine recently, and he told me the story of how he showed up to a gig, played a 3-hour set, and was given a check for less than half of what was agreed upon. When that happens after you've been given a guarantee, you know you're dealing with a criminal with no remorse.

The fact is, the performer's options in this unfortunate scenario are limited. With written agreements, you can sue for the amount, but the time and resources involved in legal recourse may not be worth the effort. I've known people who will openly trash the booking agent's reputation on social media or warn other performers about working with that person, but the only real outcome is that someone gets screwed.

But if ticket sales happen to do really well? Share some extra wealth with your performers so that they feel rewarded for the amount of hard work and promoting they did. Cirque of the Dead was a great example of this in action, and I was very gracious that the Boston Circus Guild decided to do this. Consequently, I absolutely want to perform for them at the next Cirque.

If my show does poorly, too bad; I will pay what I promised. My show? My risk.

More money will convince you to do photo ops like this one.

While different people have different ideas of how to run their own shows, I believe transparency is the one thing every producer should have. In a performance community where word travels especially quickly, one can't be too careful about what they promise to people they work with. Above all, that reputation will precede you, and people will hear about what went well--doubly so for what went poorly.

Above all, I think Jane Doe had it perfectly when she said "manners are free, and kindness goes a long way." Respect is everything, and I do respect her a great deal. And I understand that kindness and manners are not on everybody's list. I think these are the people we should look out for, and warn each other against.

...and also this creepy character.

Sirlesque: The Sexy Origin Story

Since I often refer to Sirlesque's beginnings and occasionally get asked about how my merry band formed, I thought I'd do a blog just about Sirlesque's origin story. It's also my own origin story, and my first real crack at performance since leaving college. I'll give you some background on who Dale Stones was before burlesque, as it's all very much a part of the picture.

Hint - I was a very different person with very different habits.

Father Stones frequently encouraged me to become a rock musician. He was a die-hard Beatles fan, and occasionally listened to odd, eclectic music like Billy Idol, Kate Bush, and The Birthday Massacre. Since I had an aptitude for music which I discovered around middle school-age, I picked up guitar and learned songs that played in my home by hearing and repetition. As many astute fans have pointed out, these kinds of songs frequent my burlesque repertoire.

For placeholding purposes, let's assume this is my dad.

My dad frequently encouraged me to start a rock band, spend time with other musicians, and to do anything I could to use my evident musical talents to perform. I had a few opportunities to play and sing in front of crowds (most uniquely in co-founding my university's Irish Student Union and mc'ing two Irish Heritage social nights. I played and sang Irish folk songs between sets for other performers, told Irish jokes and proverbs, and generally attempted to make the events fun for attendees). I didn't really know where or how to attack my performance compulsions aside from opportunistically, and frequently let my introversion get the best of me.

While I decided not to pursue music as a career, I did go to a school with an active theater guild, and ended up landing the lead guitar part in "Tommy" in my sophomore year, which ended up being awarded to me when the original guitarist quit the production with one week until show time. Despite the obvious time crunch of learning a 30-song musical score in 7 days, I still remember how exhilarating that whole show felt. I knew that if I got the chance, I'd do the next possible thing I could to replicate that feeling.

For place holding purposes, let's pretend I actually got to be Pete Townshend that one time.

A great friend of mine and an equally talented performer extended me a helping hand two years after college. He was about to move to a place in Watertown (a suburb of Boston) and was looking for roommates. I was first on his list of people to ask, and without considering other options, I immediately said yes. As Ricky Lime would come to find out, this haphazard approach to large life decisions would ultimately contribute to Sirlesque's formation.

Shortly after getting my first job in Boston as a waiter, I met Jenny Jewels. She was a fellow server, and often showed up at the terrace bar we both worked at after performing, usually wearing fun-colored wigs and outrageous outfits. She always encouraged her coworkers (me included) to come out and see her perform, and one Thursday, I made the firm decision to go.

I was a bit terrified of what I might discover, so I invited the man who would become Ricky Lime to come with me. Neither of us had performed or even seen burlesque before, but I needed someone to come with me to help keep my shy little self on the level. While I continued to be nervously observant, he fit right in and was eager to participate in the role of an active burlesque patron. After the show, he wanted to meet all the performers. He wanted to get involved in a show. So they let him--he debuted as an extra in Rogue Burlesque's show "The Quest for the Golden Pasties." He was a litigator in a courtroom scene, and Dixie Douya suffocated him between her breasts. I was in the crowd, and I was impressed at what a good show the whole thing was. I was proud of him.

Terribly, terribly proud. Way to run a stage, buddy.

After the show, Ricky asked the ladies if he could be in their next theatrical production. He was eager and ready to take any role they had. Instead, the resounding response was that he should start his own burlesque troop and have it be just dudes. It could even be a brother troop! Naturally, he burst from the back of the Oberon, came up to me immediately and said;

"Hey dude. Do you want to start an all-male burlesque troop?"

As was and always had been customary, I gave it the typical amount of thought and pragmatism.

"Sure! When do we start?" I responded immediately.

Now, we never had to endure a formal tryout process, as we were the forerunners of our niche in the community. Everyone makes rookie mistakes, and ours were on full display in front of crowds who had never seen male burlesque before--it's probably why we flew under the radar for a couple years. We certainly didn't have that experiential edge granted by dutifully assisting and volunteering before we took the stage ourselves--though we all brought a variety of performance experience to the medium from a variety of places.

But we got to enjoy a quick month of preparations involving a two-hour-long burlesque fundamentals class taught by the Rogues, which resulted in Ricky, myself, and fellow co-founder Dexter Dix attaining some degree of stage-readiness. We set up a photo shoot with "Stuff" magazine, and got a full-page write-up complete with a glorious photo of all three of us in our matching boyshorts. At the end of March, we had our debut as a part of the Rogue's "Winter Sextacular" and each did our first solo act on stage.

There was no turning back.

...unless the choreography told us to, that is.

Although we had done a professional photo shoot in a studio prior to this, the resulting photos remained the property of Stuff Magazine, and we weren't allowed to use them for our own professional promotion. Not having any alternative at this point, we all set up a self-run group photo shoot in a borrowed hotel room and spent a lot of time learning about posing, camera-appropriate faces, and the nuances of the iPhone's camera countdown timer. While the photos were serviceable on a base level, Ricky did have to Photoshop out the occasional awkwardly-placed electrical outlet.

You'll notice this photo is suspiciously devoid of wall outlets, among other things.

There's one in this photo that didn't get the treatment. Man, these photos....

Our name was an unexpected happenstance. Polly Surely's husband had mentioned to Ricky Lime at a party that we should have a pun-based name, and thought that "Sir" was a good spin to put on the word "Burlesque." Further than that, individual members could call themselves "Sirs." The idea was so good that we incorporated it into every aspect of our business, from our email addresses (I'm sir.dale.stones@gmail.com, in case you wanted to send me electronic mail), to our welcoming of new members (knighting them as "Sirs"), and even our meeting-appropriate pronouns.

For the longest time, the only work we had was given to us by Rogue Burlesque, who continued to help us workshop our dancing and presentation. We even based our production process and business practices off of theirs. I'll never forget two notable quotes from about the 3-year mark of us performing in Boston, the first being from Fem Bones of the Slaughterhouse Sweethearts.

Fem had been brought in to Rogue's "Film Strip" show to do an act where all of the ladies dressed as popcorn kernels, a chance meeting that I had talked about on the blog before. After working with her for a few shows, she told me; "For years you guys were Boston's best-kept secret, like toys that only the Rogues got to play with."

Lilly Bordeaux told me while preparing for a show at Club Cafe that we "used to be the adorable little brothers that were always around, but at some point, [we] suddenly became...hot."

These were quotes that stuck in my mind about how Sirlesque has leveled up over the years. I firmly believe that Fem was referring to us as an undiscovered group because until that point, we weren't quite show-ready. I'm certainly a far cry from who I used to be, even from only 2 years ago, and the confidence and body changes that resulted from that self-reflection and the hours of performing experience were principally what changed me and my guys from "dorky" to "smoldering." I'm happy with my progress and the progress of my group--and I like that we keep learning and improving.

I can't wait to see what's next.

The Group Dynamic

One of the things I noticed that Boston does differently with burlesque than most other cities is the way it presents its performers. With the exception of two other groups at NYC Boylesque Fest, Sirlesque was represented as a group as opposed to its individual participants. This is an issue that comes up time and again, with a few schools of thought on what is more effective as a marketing device, and who stands to gain the most.

While I believe this was to my own benefit (and the benefit of Sirlesque), I can't help but wonder how effectively a group's individuals retain their own performer identities in these scenarios. While in NYC with Sirlesque, it was simply easier to identify myself as "one of the Sirs" or "a Sirlesque member" because my individual performer identity wasn't on the radar of people outside of my four-hour performance radius.

It doesn't bother me at all, considering Boston is pretty unique in that way. Most of the burlesque and circus performers here are unionized in a sense, and are typically booked within their group's respective productions (e.g. all of Sirlesque's members perform in Masculinitease and Geek Peek, all of the Slaughterhouse Sweethearts perform in A Dark Knight and Revenge of the Robot Battle Nuns).

And sometimes, everyone you've ever performed with happens to be in the same show.

Other groups in Boston are the Lipstick Criminals, Sparkletown Productions, The Bloodstains, All the Rest Burlesque, The Boston Babydolls, and of course, our sister troop Rogue Burlesque. Sure, there are individual performers going at it their way, but most of the performers within the city limits are a part of one or more of these individual groups. In Boston, there are rarely exceptions to this.

So in the interests of how to burlesque better going forward, should I pursue more individual bookings, or do I focus more on the Sirlesque brand and building more quality productions?

Some folks will try to drag you away from your group to be in other things. Trust me.

While each group has enough pull to draw its own crowd by simply being listed on a flyer, there are consequences to involving other troops and individual performers from outside the group. If I'm listed as a guest performer, does that mean my fans will come to a show that they might not have been to otherwise? If Sirlesque is given credit and billing on someone else's show, does that mean that all six of us should assume we have a degree of creative say on the content that gets produced?

If I were to really roll up my sleeves and get into it, I'd tell you that groups can quickly become petri dishes of unkempt drama. Once you get on stage enough times and begin to see the  kind of attention you can get fairly regularly, you tend to think more highly of yourself. Where this gets problematic is when the sliding scale moves away from gratitude and more towards entitlement. You might recognize this as the "I should have at least 3 straight strips in our upcoming show" type, or the "I'm going to cast myself in every role" kind of attitude, with a rapid estrangement from "guys, I still can't believe that people pay to come see me take my clothes off in public."

Inevitably, egos will clash. It may not resemble a spectacle like Oasis or The Who getting into an on-stage fistfight, but it can easily devolve into passive-aggressive bullshit behind the scenes. Casting snubs, over-heading someone else on an issue, performers refusing to work specifically with other performers, people blowing off rehearsals or commitments, dissent on act plot points, over-sensitivity to criticism, being overly critical towards others, and gossiping are all things I've played host to both inside and outside of my group. Because of my own tendency to be self-sacrificing and introspective as a person, I've often had to moderate these issues. I've had some success and learned a few things about drama management. But then, I've also failed miserably.

...which often results in the sexiest argument you can imagine being a part of.

In different cities and countries (and NYC especially), it seems like individual performers are the most successful in cultivating their own recurring business. With over 500 individual contractors who are burlesque performers in that area (thanks to Anja Keister for providing that stat), there seems to be plenty of work to bounce around to. Since Sirlesque is an LLC, the finances have to be regarded as a group endeavor, with those of us who book more than the others ultimately contributing more to the fund that keeps the group going. With that said, Sirlesque is a brand name and a powerful enough one that people come out in droves to see a show with our name on it--we're pretty fortunate in that regard, and are financial self-sustaining through two major shows every year. A question I often ask myself is "If I were to produce a show with just my name on it, would it still get that kind of attention?"

Would the kind of drama that might be involved in that undertaking be worth the effort?

What I've found is that group-produced shows give performers a chance to show their expertise and performance ability, and eventually get them bookings on an individual basis. Looking back at my own history, this is something that used to only happen sporadically, but is now happening often enough that scheduling skills have become a necessity. While it's a great benefit to both my ego and my performance resume, I have to constantly remind myself that people book other people who they like working with, and not necessarily the best performer.

"I'm great, and you're a nerd! Ha ha! Seriously, can I be in your show?"

One of my best friends in the world recently told me he didn't want to do burlesque performance anymore, and the primary reason was because it's not something he still has fun doing. Sadly, the drama that comes from other people taking themselves too seriously, from engaging in relationships with other people in the same performance circle, and frequently butting heads with other performers who end up becoming creative rivals are all things that muddy the waters in the pool. Sometimes, the only way to take control of your life in any meaningful way is to decide where to draw the line and then disengage completely. While I'm sad to see him leave, I respect his decision.

I have to thank Ricky Lime for helping me to get myself on stage in a burlesque capacity five years ago. It led to all of this nonsense you see under the Dale Stones umbrella, and being minus one on the Sirlesque roster (especially being one of the most creative and talented performers I've ever met) is going to mean a tough road ahead. This all keeps me thinking about what the future of Sirlesque has in store.

So I think that at some point, we'll be having open auditions. I'd like to have a couple extra dancers and a full-time MC, so keep your ears to the ground about that. Of course, there are a couple other concerns I have about filling a group lineup with more staff(s), but I would be curious as to what you see the advantages and disadvantages are. Is it "The more the merrier" with group numbers, or is it just an additional risk of added drama and schedule synchronization? Is it best to have guest performers on a permanent basis and not give insider responsibilities to solo performers?

Leave me a comment and help me make that decision. Group wisdom, activate!