Despite the strangeness of its Webster Hall location, Trash’s Burning Angel anniversary bash was every bit as fabulously promiscuous as the hallowed weekly once was at Rififi. Although Trash happens each Friday, this night was special because it celebrated the seventh anniversary of New York’s homegrown altporn empire, Burning Angel.
Electro-fashion-rock outfit Young Love opened the night with a set of upbeat dance tunes as part of its month-long residency in the club’s new-ish basement space. By the time the band had finished, the crowd was sufficiently liquored up and grabby. The freakishly beautiful model Rachel Ballinger, whose father happens to own the club, kept out of the fray in the tiny wood-paneled V.I.P. room. Was she familiar with Burning Angel? “No,” she replied, “I’m here for Young Love.” How had she liked them? “They were really great! I’m not just saying that because [frontman] Dan [Keyes] is my boyfriend.”
DJ Jess, Trash’s ambiguously straight promoter, sauntered in from the stage. How was the night going for him? “Here, I’ll dictate,” he said.“DJ Jess came over to flirt with me. He was wearing a brilliant white suit. His cufflinks didn’t match, but I didn’t notice because of his amazing boots.Thirsty?” He proffered a drink ticket using only his mouth. Was he a fan of Joanna Angel’s films? “The only pornos I own are the three I’ve been in.” So there’s a DJ Jess sex tape? “No, I did the commentary. I think listening to The Smiths is sexier than watching porn.”Why throw a party for a porn company, then? “Because the CEO of that company is brilliant, and she fucks for a living.” Fair enough.
The executive in question made her entry around 1 a.m. to the flashes of cameras and perverts alike. Someone had brought a blowup doll, with which she and her minions composed a showy tableau. In a parody of standard hardcore fare, they slapped it in the face before shoving fingers and tongues in its various orifices.The performances continued with two burlesque acts and a decidedly blue “America’s Next Top Porn Star” contest.
Electro-fashion-rock outfit Young Love opened the night with a set of upbeat dance tunes as part of its month-long residency in the club’s new-ish basement space. By the time the band had finished, the crowd was sufficiently liquored up and grabby. The freakishly beautiful model Rachel Ballinger, whose father happens to own the club, kept out of the fray in the tiny wood-paneled V.I.P. room. Was she familiar with Burning Angel? “No,” she replied, “I’m here for Young Love.” How had she liked them? “They were really great! I’m not just saying that because [frontman] Dan [Keyes] is my boyfriend.”
DJ Jess, Trash’s ambiguously straight promoter, sauntered in from the stage. How was the night going for him? “Here, I’ll dictate,” he said.“DJ Jess came over to flirt with me. He was wearing a brilliant white suit. His cufflinks didn’t match, but I didn’t notice because of his amazing boots.Thirsty?” He proffered a drink ticket using only his mouth. Was he a fan of Joanna Angel’s films? “The only pornos I own are the three I’ve been in.” So there’s a DJ Jess sex tape? “No, I did the commentary. I think listening to The Smiths is sexier than watching porn.”Why throw a party for a porn company, then? “Because the CEO of that company is brilliant, and she fucks for a living.” Fair enough.
The executive in question made her entry around 1 a.m. to the flashes of cameras and perverts alike. Someone had brought a blowup doll, with which she and her minions composed a showy tableau. In a parody of standard hardcore fare, they slapped it in the face before shoving fingers and tongues in its various orifices.The performances continued with two burlesque acts and a decidedly blue “America’s Next Top Porn Star” contest.
Michael T, who emcees Trash once a month, showed later in the evening, as did Allan Dias, formerly of Johnny Rotten’s Public Image Ltd. Horror-porn director Doug Sakmann (of Re-Penetrator fame) lingered in a corner. Did all those naked ladies ever get boring? “Yeah,” he said. “It’s like any other job. When you’re on set with them for 12 hours at a time, dealing with all their problems, dealing with everything...yeah, you get bored.” Somehow through the blaring electro, a tiny violin could be heard.
