“You know you’ve made it when they’re naming killers after you,” quips Jake Shears. The Scissor Sisters’ frontman is clearly delighted at the unusual accolade bestowed on the band by the Irish press (sibling killers Charlotte and Linda Mulhall have been dubbed the Scissor Sisters). And how appropriate. From ‘Take Your Mama Out’ to ‘Comfortably Numb’ these sisters are doing it for themselves, serving up their inimitable brand of murder on the dancefloor to a packed Odyssey Arena.
Their entrance is every bit as preposterous as we could have hoped for, a gold-gilded elevator their carriage, the slow, laborious ticking as it ascends the floors until it reaches planet Scissor Sisters. Out they bound, glammed up exiles from Studio54, rampaging across the stage and tearing through the opening bars of ‘She’s My Man’.
It is an evening of celebration, and even more heavy-hearted fare such as the sombre paean of ‘Mary’ or the bitter betrayal evidenced in ‘Land Of A Thousand Words’ exhibits the resilience at the core of the Scissor Sisters. Add to this the fact that American voters have at last turned their back on Dubya and the merriment is multiplied tenfold, as Ana Matronic tells us, “There’s been a regime change. Hell! In a few years I might even be proud to say I’m an American”.
Pride is what the Scissor Sisters are all about, urging us to be whatever we want to be even if, as Ana Matronic suggests, it means “wearing your girlfriend’s panties!” It has been as astounding performance, because they’re filthy, because they’re gorgeous, and because no-one makes a spectacle of themselves quite like the Scissor Sisters.