Ssion is loony but likeable

By Kristin Torres

Published Feb. 29, 2008

No one’s ever called Kansas City a hub of either art punk or men in control-top pantyhose, especially not in the same sentence. But that’s what establishes Ssion as the best game in town — and makes frontman Cody Critcheloe a mustachioed maestro with the scene’s most coveted fake mole.

And Critcheloe wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ve chosen to live here and create this ‘thing,’ so it is what it is,” Critcheloe said. “If I was only concerned with being famous I’d just move to New York or L.A. where there are more media outlets to do so.”

For Critcheloe, the hype that Ssion’s danceable, synth-heavy beats might receive in a more nuanced locale wouldn’t gauge Ssion’s success.

“I’d rather make something a bit more subversive and keep it going regardless of all the bullshit hype that can be associated with artists in bigger cities,” he said.

But Kansas City hasn’t always been home for the troupe of eccentric artists, stage performers and leotard-happy dancers who make up Ssion. After getting started in the mid-90s in an equally unlikely location — rural Kentucky — Ssion (pronounced “shun”) started to take shape when Critcheloe made the move to Kansas City for art school. Even now, Ssion is still continuously evolving — trying on new shapes, sounds and signature oddities, such as face paint and on-stage effigies.

“It will always be a gradual development,” he said. “It’s always been pretty theatrical. Even when it was a straight-up punk band I was still concerned with what I was gonna wear on stage and if I looked fat.” (That’s where the control-top pantyhose comes in.)

On the group’s latest record, Fools Gold, Critcheloe’s high-pitched voice might pass for androgynous if you didn’t know what Ssion’s ringleader looked like. With a pitch-black, unmistakable handlebar moustache, Critcheloe’s maleness is given away, though the blue eye shadow and blushing cheeks might cause momentary confusion. Belting out lyrics like “Gee whiz/Street jizz/Feels more dirty than it really is” over a punctuated disco tempo, Ssion manages to make a song called “Street Jizz” into something danceable, bratty and altogether whimsical.

Likewise, “Bullshit” becomes an anthem of foot-shuffling club-goers everywhere with the help of Critcheloe’s snot-nosed vocals that somehow make Ssion fun and likeable, regardless of straight-up lunacy.

Though Ssion isn’t the biggest name in the business, the band has benefited from its fare share of Internet buzz, as plenty of bands have in the advent of MySpace.com and dedicated bloggers.

Loyal fans praise their insane music video catalogue on YouTube.com, and Critcheloe said the band has enjoyed an influx of MySpace.com friend requests lately. But he said he doesn’t necessarily buy into it.

“Blog buzz is such a weird thing,” he said. “I don’t even know if it’s real.”

But Critcheloe said he is certain the buzz started somewhere, and its famously eccentric and flat-out bizarre stage antics might have tipped people off.

Decked out in crazy costumes, leotards, face makeup and, like for one lucky past audience, a Tori Amos effigy filled with fake blood, Ssion’s performances aren’t always for those who are easily weirded out.

“I’ve still got a lot of passion, and I hope that translates during the performance,” he said.

Critcheloe jokes he’s gained too much weight to dance the way he used to (again, the pantyhose), but there will be plenty of eye candy to make sure audiences get their money’s worth.

“I feel like I’ve compensated for my drastic weight gain with videos and props. And the dancers are in great shape,” he said. “Thank God.”