Fischerspooner’s performance at the Ogden on Monday night was, quite simply, one of the worst shows of the year, a pathetic display of narcissism, misused costumes and low energy. Photos by Brian Carney.

Thank God for Cody Critcheloe. Because if it wasn’t for an opening performance by the gorgeously gender-slanting front man of Ssion, I would not have made it through Monday night’s Fischerspooner show at the Ogden Theatre.

Skipping across the sprawling stage with Debbie Gibson-mall madness excitement, Critcheloe and the rest of Ssion kneaded some energy out of the wilting crowd with their epic sex jams and trademark poopy visuals. The mustached diva jumped about on his black and white cake-like platform as he delivered Ssion originals like “Bullshit” and “Clown,” his zombie band nodding along as their leader begged for some audience reciprocation.

A group of hardcore Ssion fans had gathered in the pit to dance and Critcheloe came close, kneeling at the edge of the stage to serenade us with a Glass Candy-esque rendition of Michael Jackson’s “Remember the Time.” His sparkling blue bedroom eyes peered out from under a thick brow and black porkpie hat as he shot up and turned the spotlight on the Woman, Ssion’s lady member, who appeared from the darkness to perform her namesake track “The Woman.”

Ssion closed their wonderfully tasteless set with a Young Marble Giants-Hole recreated cover, “Credit in the Straight World,” and their own venerable anthem “Street Jizz.” I was quite satisfied with the Kansas cuties’ set, but stuck around with the hopes that Fischerspooner would only elevate the night’s supernatural dance vibe.

As the drama rolled out from backstage, tall movable panels of silver and mirrors, racks of tutus and trees of strobes and colored lights gathered on along the Ogden’s stage before the theater dimmed, and Casey Spooner and Warren Fischer appeared in a ceremonial dance of florescent-lined hats and dancers.

For the next hour, a horrendous community theater-style performance burned out my eyes, Casey Spooner’s costume choices going from bad to worse as he layered a bolero jacket over an acid-washed army uniform, adding and subtracting what looked like a weight-lifting corset over his plump body. Songs like “Happy” and the David Byrne-written “Get Confused” melted into a boring mess, Warren Fischer looking like a caricature of himself as he stood stage right pushing buttons with a ratted yellow clown wig hanging over his eyes.

The electronic chaos continued to jerk around them, but the Fischerspooner dancers thankfully kept the sad little show together. Their graceful moves and captivating facial expressions bounced off the sparse forest of mirrors as the foursome fluttered through “Supply and Demand,” costume variations of pantyhose and silver material upstaging their masters.

“Emerge” came as a sigh of relief, the only break in the show causing Casey Spooner to move as fast as his dancers. Taking puffs from an oxygen tank added Casey Spooner’s ridiculous existence, his lack of singing and pathetic facial expressions layering perfectly with narcissist projections of the group’s own videos as a backdrop.

With one foot out the door, I struggled to keep my eyes on Fischerspooner as they encored with several songs, including “Never Win,” in an ending that couldn’t have come fast enough.

Something was off on Monday night for Fischerspooner, and I can’t put my finger on it. They held all the trappings of an amazing show in their hands, complete with trained dancers and an open audience. Somewhere along the line, an integral piece of the performance art puzzle was removed, causing the Fischerspooner show to come crashing down like a poorly constructed parade float.

Maybe if the spent-looking duo spent a little time getting to know tour mates Ssion, Cody and the Woman could teach Fischerspooner a thing or two about aesthetics. Or at least teach them how to be tacky with intention.

Bree Davies plays bass in Night of Joy, writes about her obsessions with Iggy Pop and Lil’ Wayne in her blog and repeatedly fakes her own death at Breedavies.com. She is also a self-proclaimed Twitter addict.

Brian Carney is a Denver photographer and a regular contributor to Reverb. To see more of his photos from this set, go here.

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