Google “Christeene” and one word will keep coming back over and over again to describe her, feral. And indeed, the recent performance by Christeene at Market Hotel could hardly be described as anything other than feral. But other words—wild, trashy, over the top, radically and unabashedly queer, cathartic—are also very apt descriptors too. She is the embodiment of every normies’ nightmare brought to life—out of the shadows and into the spotlight while they clutch their pearls. Arriving on stage with a butt plug jammed in her ass attached to a bouquet of balloons, this was not going to be some delicate ride were were in for, this was some real queer shit, right in our fucking faces. And for those of us lucky enough to be assembled at the debaucherous altar of Christeene, it was exactly where we wanted and needed it to be.
The show was opened by experimental composer Holland Andrews who, in sharp contrast to the later ferocity of Christeene’s set, played subdued and thoughtful soundscapes cleverly constructed with mostly just their voice run through an array of effects pedals and loopers. The early birds were certainly treated to a special performance that held the room in a rapturous place.
But then it was time for the full on sonic assault that is Christeene, the excitement palpable in the air as we all waited. And as the band to took the stage, the anticipation grew as Christeene herself slowly made her way up through the audience, a trail of balloons out her ass. When she finally arrived, the crowd was more than ready to go off and as the butt plug came out, the real party began. “I’m Christeene, this is my Fukkin Band,” she introduced herself and the assorted musicians, themselves stalwarts of NYC nightlife and queer circles (I photographed guitarist Viva DeConcini drumming at 2021’s Dyke March). From there Christeene and the Fukkn Band proceeded to rip and rage through song after song, reaching a fever pitch frenzy that went right to the edge of sanity but somehow never fully teetered over, pushing and pulling the audience as we were fully entranced in her spell of beautifully freaky faggotry.
This show was in celebration of the brand new album, Midnight Fukk Train, which was recently released on Spaceflight Records and is in itself a wild ride, a drastic range of styles that “leaves no soul unscathed.” I was happy to be dragged down to the depths of hell though and if the total abandon of the audience around me was any indication, so was everyone else. The full on seductive depravity was exactly what we were craving, the icy chill of the November air outside forgotten as we sweat it out while Christeene led the band full speed ahead through playing all eight songs on the album.
Her stage presence is of course, extravagant and over the top, and she being a sexy DIY nightmare fashionista, the show came complete with multiple costume changes as well as plenty of crotch grabbing and ass rubbing to heighten the mood. Highlights for me were the rowdy “Beaucoup Morocco” and the glorious filth of “Fix My Dick” which translate so well to the live setting. Not one person stayed still during the entirety of the set save for during the stirring “Piano Song.”
Suffice it to say, this was one of the best shows I went to all year and that’s certainly no small feat. I go to shows for a living (this was show 229 of the year for me) so I get to see a lot of stuff on an almost nightly basis and truly, not much if anything has held a candle to what Christeene and Her Fukkn Band brought to the stage that night. I’m all aboard the Midnight Fukk Train and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get onboard too.
Scroll down for pics of the show [some NSFW] (photos by Kate Hoos)