The Infectious Queerness of SSION

Abstract

The first time I saw SSION (that’s shun as in pronounciashun, temptatshun), the band was doing an immersive art installation called BOY at The Hole, a brand new New York gallery. It was  and Deitch Projects—legendary art dealer Jeffrey Deitch’s iconic downtown New York gallery that was so close to the cutting edge you might actually get cut if you didn’t watch where you were going—had just shut its doors after  years. I’d been an intern at Deitch Projects, and the one thing I remember about the space was the way it brought together people from all walks of life. Rich people, hipsters, drag queens, transgressive queers—it was all very Warholian. Everyone in the New York glitterati warned that if Deitch Projects closed there would be a “giant hole” in the New York art world, hence this new gallery’s name—The Hole. BOY was certainly a queer experience. Live concert video footage looped on the gallery walls, and the gallery itself was relatively dark. It seemed like every inch of space was splashed in some kind of glitter or hand-drawing. When I walked up to the gallery for the exhibition it felt like a party on the sidewalk as well as in the gallery itself. Even though SSION was not performing live, club kids still showed up in their most ridiculous looks, smoking cigarettes and looking effortlessly cool. Mustaches painted on their faces, headpieces properly affixed. One thing was clear: these were not just passersby—these were diehard fans. They’d been following SSION from the beginning and had fully subscribed to SSION’s unique, queer creative alternate universe. SSION has impressive indie street cred, having toured with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, CSS, The Gossip, and NYC’s House of Ladosha. Fronted by mad scientist