Those who saw one of Cabaret Kiki’s three performances at Theatre 99 May 18-20 will recall experiencing a meta-moment when the mubling bag lady they’d stepped around outside on their way into the theatre appeared onstage as Kiki herself. It’s unknown whether she’ll make a similarly unscripted appearance at the Dangerous Strangers gigs later this week, but at one of this weekend’s endless string of parties, I forget which, I found Kiki loitering around the cheese table, eyeing the surrounding clutch of Spoletians and tucking smoked salmon into her pockets. She layed a few words of wisdom on me — some of which I could understand — and so I, in turn, am sharing them with you now, since I’ve got to compose my thoughts on yesterday’s adventures with Rubberbandance Group (our dance critic gives it a B+), Faustus, The Last Night (Fernando Rivas torpedoes it, I thought it was swell) and Stefano Battaglia. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, Kiki says wassup.
Help keep the City Paper free.
No paywalls.
No subscription cost.
Free delivery at 800 locations.
Help support independent journalism by donating today.
