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They juggle and dance, bend spoons and balance on unicycles, but they do it as a family. One big tattooed, pierced, waxed and bejeweled family.
Call them what you want — cabaret kids, sideshow freaks, illusionists, off-beat entertainers — but Colorado’s variety performers are a tight-knit group.
Many of them moved here to become part of our state’s robust circus scene, coalescing around clubs and classes along the Front Range, and regular shows at Lannie’s Clocktower Cabaret, their downtown Denver home. But they also teach and travel internationally for festivals and corporate gigs.
Some of the arts they practice, like aerial dance, are relatively new. Some go back not just to the vaudeville era, but through hundreds of years of traveling circuses and Middle Eastern traditions.
All are proud of their acts and committed to finding that magic moment when the audience feels the fear, delight and amazement that drew these artists to their professions in the first place.
This is what the variety performing scene looks like in Colorado in 2013. You’ve been warned. And you’re welcome.
Lo-Lo Flamingo juggles comedy, burlesque and more
It’s hard to miss Lo-Lo Flamingo, especially when she’s doing her signature burlesque strip tease atop a unicycle.
The tall, slender, 28-year-old fled Kansas for Colorado five years ago to join Boulder’s bustling circus arts scene. There she found the Boulder Juggling Club, where she eventually met her fiancé, Warren Hammond (of the duo Smirk, also profiled here).
“It’s actually really nice to be able to share not just my hobby, but my career with him,” said Flamingo, a.k.a. Bekah Smith. “He gives me motivation to keep doing my best, and seeing him work on something new makes me want to get new skills.”
As if she’s got room for any more. In addition to juggling, Flamingo’s “Girl Next Dork” act at Lannie’s Clocktower Cabaret has included rope tricks, fire dancing and comedy, as well as guest appearances from the colorful group of artists drawn to the variety scene there.
“It really does feel like family there because we’re all working toward the same goal,” Flamingo said. “And everyone has their own fan base, so there’s enough to go around.”
But what about that striptease unicycle act?
“It’s actually the only way I can spin pasties,” she admitted. “Of course, I don’t do it when I teach kids at after-school classes. But kids are almost the same as drunk adults. There’s just less curse words!”
Midnite Martini mixes classic and modern styles into burlesque cocktail
Crafting a singular identity in the burlesque world is a challenge for most performers. And while Midnite Martini easily stands out, she earned her individuality the hard way.
“I already had sort of a weird identity and self-image issues, being adopted Korean and growing up in Littleton,” said the 28-year-old , who goes by Kim Townsend off-stage.
She immersed herself in musical theater and dancing while growing up, which led her to study theater at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley. But the theater world’s relentless emphasis on body image took its toll in the form of eating disorders and depression.
“It brought out a lot of bad stuff. So when I found aerial dance and the circus world, it naturally felt like family. I was like, ‘Oh, this is where all the misfits come to be accepted and work together!”
She dove into classes at Boulder’s internationally known aerial dance company Frequent Flyers Productions, where she now teaches. That dovetailed with her interest in 1950s and ’60s Rat Pack culture and burlesque performing. The experimental mix birthed Midnite Martini.
“I do strive for a classic style, but I haven’t seen a lot of burlesque and aerial work together before,” said Townsend. “From the beginning I really wanted to focus on coming up with a unique style.”
It seems she’s found one. In addition to winning numerous awards, traveling nationally and co-producing the Colorado Burlesque Festival (July 11-14), Townsend was invited back to perform at the Burlesque Hall of Fame in Las Vegas this month.
“Denver is so lucky to have so much burlesque and variety happening, since most other cities only have a show every few weeks or months,” she said. “Here I can do it almost every night.”
More info: midnitemartini.com
Professor Phelyx bends metal, minds with meticulous illusions
Despite the coiffed hair, waxed mustache and sharp suits, illusionist Professor Phelyx is a sincere man. No, really: A good show for him starts by connecting directly with the audience, whether it’s corporate sales executives or boozy bar patrons.
“Very often when they first see me they expect me to come out with the nasal-y voice and do that 1920s vaudeville shuffle,” said the 42-year-old Littleton native, who began performing at age 10. “But I don’t try to go too far with a character because I think sincerity is one of those things that makes people comfortable.”
Of course, this is coming from a man who’s built his career on mental manipulation and fork-bending. But embracing the unusual is a skill he learned early.
“He really wanted me to push hard, almost to a degree that I stopped doing it,” Phelyx said of his father, a homicide investigator for the Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Office. “He was so meticulous with his hands and was absolutely an influence.”
Phelyx’s interest in shrunken heads and safari vests didn’t win him many friends in high school, but it did help him develop a mettle essential to his line of work.
“I like to experiment but I never want to be a mimic,” said Phelyx, who stopped attending magic conventions in the 1990s for fear of imitating others. “The easiest way to get yourself in trouble in this industry is to appear in any way that you’re borrowing from another entertainer. That’s why I’m always changing.”
Molly McClellan shakes tradition with tribal belly dancing
Belly dancing is one of the oldest variety acts around, but the sort that Molly McClellan practices is far from it. American Tribal Style, which emerged in the 1980s, emphasizes group improvisation and folkloric costumes, but throws out most other rules.
“We don’t stick strictly to tribal-style music,” said McClellan, 37, who quit her bartending job in New Orleans’ French Quarter to join Colorado’s growing belly-dancing community nine years ago. “We’ll dance to the Black Keys or dubstep or straight-up Balkan stuff. It’s a fusion.”
Between her day job as warehouse manager for the Englewood-based yoga clothing company be present , her busy teaching schedule, and her 15-20 hours a week of training, McClellan tries to take classes and perform at as many festivals as she can.
“Right now my favorite place is Portland, where I’ve done some training. It’s totally amaze-balls,” she said. “But soon I’m going to Alaska to teach, and they’re paying for everything. That place is definitely on my bucket list.”
It’s not an easy job. Her custom costumes, which take about an hour to don, cost around $1,000 to put together, and each new act requires hours of practice before she can debut it in public.
It helps that she’s got a treasured pre-game ritual.
“People have their superstitions and special jewelry or whatever, but I need to have a cheeseburger. I just can’t eat it too close to going on stage.”
More info: mollymcclellan.net
Alexis Scissorlegs’ tall order: balancing dance, acrobatics, safety
Stilts are dumb, Danielle Hendricks thought.
“I wanted to register for aerial dance and trapeze and silks, but I didn’t have the money,” said the Fresno, Calif., native, who saw a flyer for Boulder’s Aerial Dance Festival while attending the University of Colorado in 1998. “So I ended up in stilts.”
The class, taught by David Clarkson of Australia’s Stalker Theatre, immediately changed her mind. Clarkson showed her the artistic side of stilts and the possibilities of combining them with other art forms.
“I just completely fell in love with his amazing acrobatic work,” she said.
Her first, and very awkward, performance came during Frequent Flyers Productions’ 2002 “Ratcracker,” a tongue-in-cheek take on “The Nutcracker.” Since then Hendricks, who goes by Alexis Scissorlegs on stage, has honed her skills at proms, private parties, festivals and variety shows while teaching students at Frequent Flyers.
Hendricks, 37, plans on doing it as long as she can, but also learned the hard way that safety is paramount. She’s torn or sprained most major ligaments in her legs and endured intensive therapy in order to get back on the stilts — which top her off at a towering 7-feet-8.
“It’s like skiing, having this long heavy thing that can twist on your lower leg, and it puts your knee at risk,” said Hendricks, who also stays limber by dancing in Boulder’s 3rd Law Dance/Theater and teaching Pilates. “Of course, I scare my mom to death every time she comes to see a show. She’s pretty much holding onto the person next to her the entire time.”
More info: frequentflyers.org
Smirk goes big (and small) for classic, high-flying laughs
Abbott and Costello never won any awards for juggling, but that classic comedy duo would have likely approved of the medals Reid Belstock and Warren Hammond have won at the International Juggling Association’s competitions.
“They’re our idols,” Hammond, 32, said of the famous physical comics. “But we’re very different off stage. I had to get over hitting (Reid) in the face when we first started working together.”
The duo, who met at the Boulder Juggling Club five years ago, has carved a reputation as malleable entertainers for theaters, corporate gigs and cruise ships. Their slapstick juggling act, known as Smirk, is as goofy and physical as it is celebrated and, at times, dangerous.
“Oddly enough, when the weather gets rough and the seas get too hard… (cruise directors) say, ‘Well, let’s not have people who can dance, or a singer to sit in a chair and sing,'” said Belstock, 40. “‘Let’s get the guy who’s juggling knives on a six-foot unicycle to come out on stage,’ and I’m usually one of the first people called. It can be a nightmare.”
Fortunately, the cuts, bruises and dislocated arms are rarer than the chemistry the two have developed while performing.
“We’ve both had other partners, which is another reason we were able to work together so well,” Belstock said.
“All the things you bring to the stage are (important),” added Hammond, who quit a graduate program in biology and molecular virology to move to Colorado to become a professional juggler. “But the stuff backstage is really important, just knowing how to work on a business and professional level. We each have different skill sets, but we’re great at melding the two.”
More info: smirkshow.com
