NewHavenAdvocate.com – By Donald Brown
He stands alone on stage in an outfit that looks like the sad remains of a clown’s party favors, a colorful motley that combines deflated balloons, a fright wig, glitter facepaint, long legs in mismatched neon hose, towering heels, a bare chest with saucy sequined nipples. Sometimes, he strums a ukulele and sings in a voice that’s often quite sweet and pleasant, then veers into screeches, rock star rasps, stentorian posturing. His spoken voice is labile, sounding at times like a genteel Southern belle, at others like her dissolute granddad, the Colonel, and, at its most beguiling, like someone – perhaps male, perhaps female – charming the pants off you.