by Ted Kuster
Q San Francisco Magazine
March 1997

The Kinsey Sicks

If anything stands between the Kinsey Sicks and total show-biz success, it's themselves. Even the lights of Hollywood might not be enough to pull Ben Schatz (he plays short, dark-haired, ever-worried Rachel) away from his day job as executive director of the Lesbian and Gay Medical Association. Or Irwin Keller (he's matronly, Pledge-obsessed Winnie), who by day directs the AIDS Legal Referral Panel.

It's not an academic question anymore. The group, which bills itself as "America's favorite dragapella ensemble," has put together a steady following after a couple of years' work, culminating with a gig at Josie's with Marga Gomez this past New Year's Eve. There was even a nibble last year from producers for Roseanne's new comedy show on Fox (since canceled). Keeping up with the requests for performances has become a bit of a problem. "The hard thing is being available, because of our various and sundry commitments," says Schatz ruefully.

The rich, full-throated quartet of drag queens -- just off a four-week run at the New Conservatory Theater Center in San Francisco -- was born three years ago when five friends went to see Bette Midler together and were shocked, shocked to find they were the only people in the audience in drag. Something had to be done. But what?

A singing group, of course. "We all come from fairly musical backgrounds," explains tall, trailer-born Vaselina, also known as Jerry Friedman, audiology director for the San Francisco Hearing Society. "My mom is a piano teacher, and she loved to have everybody around the piano singing music from her era. And my brother and I had two Babara Streisand albums that we would play every night before we went to bed. That Way We Were album? Had it memorized front to back."

Part of Kinsey Sicks' power comes from the act's edgy relationship with the drag tradition: it's patently a part of it, and then it's something different. For one thing, there's no lip-synching in this show. Sans director or singing coach, the Kinseys have managed to craft a thoroughly disciplined vocal sound of their own, full and harmonically adept. For another, under all ther fluff and gloss -- it's not called "dragapella" for nothing -- a layer of deadly seriousness lurks, rearing up to kick you when you least expect it. Thirty minutes of unrelieved laughter gives way suddenly to "Begonia's Song," a straight-ahead, eyes-on-the-rafters anthem in memory of fifth member Abatto Avilez, who died a year ago and was never replaced.

In February, the Kinseys performed at the International Bear Rendezvous at the Ramada. "Those guys, however incongruous it may seem, have been some of our staunchest fans from the start," says tragically gorgeous, silver-wigged Trixie, who is also Maurice Kelly, a project manager for Levis Strauss Corp. "This is where I think we're helping heal some wounds in the community, in a sense."

No stereotype is safe with these guys. Last November they showcased a wide streak of quite advertent Jewish humor at the annual Kung Pao Kosher Comedy night, where they unveiled their hit dance track, "The Macaroona" (audience participation required). "Oh, the latkes make your belly soft and mushy/ And the sour creams goes right to your tushie/ We eat globs of gray gefilte fish not sushi/ Oy, macaroona!"

"We really like to play with the audience," Winnie says. "When you can get an audience to stand up and sing something that you can't even believe you are singing in front of them..." One of their funniest numbers is Rachel's signature song which, with an over-the-top delivery, perverts a 1980s feel-good hit into "Don't be Happy... Worry."

Trixie, the group's physical comedy specialist, does a hysterical sketch about a dropout from Narsanon (Narcissists Anonymous: "We must admit to being powderless"), where she stares into a glass of water, admiring her reflection. Rachel puts a peremptory hand over the glass, breaking Trixie's reverie. Trixie's eyes travel slowly up Rachel's arm. Reaching her face, Trixie lets out an "Eek!" and the Kinsey Sicks dissolve into laughter.

"How inadvertently brilliant," says Rachel. "We do a lot of that -- well, at least the inadvertent part."

Inevitably, the conversation returns to Bette Midler. "Her show is the best role model we could have," Vaselina explains. "She is music, she'd vaudeville, she's burlesque, and she's drag."

She'll be hysterical, and then she'll do something gut-wrenching, and she'll still be wearing the same costume," Trixie adds. "She'll still be Dolores DeLago, and it's okay, because she can control the reaction of the audience."

"We have worked on finding the range between how serious and just how much in bad taste we can be," adds Rachel, "And Bette holds both of those records." But not for long.