Dear Kyle,

If in the infamous StockAitkenWaterman days somebody had told me that I would ever go to a concert of yours, this would have ended in a tough fight - no doubt. However, as soon as your unforgettable duet Where the Wild Roses Grow with Nick Cave emerged, the world was never as before. In 2002, you definitely enchanted me by giving this fantastic Fever concert. This show sent me on a five day high like freshly fallen in love.

On the eve of your Fever concert in Zürich I realised that I had no idea where the ticket was. Usually, I put them under my vintage telephone (one that still looks and sounds like a telephone is supposed to). But there was nothing at all. Four hours later, I had moved all furniture at least once, had been through the waste paper three times and had emptied and put in order all drawers. Still no sign of the ticket. Depressive feelings and self-pity had taken control over my usually quite stable personality hours ago. My fingers were trembling when I wrote a panic SMS to Jeanpi, who supposed to go with me to the concert. At noon on the day of the concert, Jeanpi entered my apartment and found the ticket within 30 seconds in a cupboard in the bath. I have still no idea why and when I put it there.

Yesterday, you had the generosity to requests the honour of my company again. I was a lucky boy, because I was accompanied by my boyfriend Gatín, flatmate Tigresa, and best mates Jeanpi. I would have taken Ms.Mac with me. But unfortunately for her, since I bought the ticket and your concert, I fell in love like never before and already longer lasting than ever (Gatín and I agreed upon at least 20 years). Hence, the open ticket went to Gatín.

The target was high. I will not compare the show with others, like the critic of Tages-Anzeiger did (who wants to be compared with Madge, the stakhanovite of Pop Music, anyway). My measure is the Fever show, which took me absolutely by surprise, because back then, I expected to be a bit entertained and have a pleasant evening. I was the last to anticipate a complete enchantment.

The letter is getting a bit long and I reckon your a busy lady, hence I switch to notes:

• Apéritif
  Roxheimer Berg, 2001, Riesling late vintage by Prinz zu Salem-Dalberg - a present by Gatín's boss for the occasion.
• Stage
  More symmetric and less bold. much more light - that is, lights everywhere. the band was not hidden anymore.
• Art work
  A bit more reserved, therefore, let you more space.
• Choreography
  I guess it was Raphael Bonachela' work. He could keep up with his own standards.
• Dancers
  This was the biggest danger for you, because they kept distracting my eyes, mind and attention all the time. Where does one find men like that? I hardly saw anything as astonishing as that: spotless bodies, agile movements and breath-taking presence.
• Costumes
  I lost count, there were to much changes. But most of them were frocks. I hope Tigresa got the hint. I like women in frocks, especially in Summer. It makes the sun shine more lovely and brighter.
• Songs
  There were about 27 or so, even one from Pet Shop Boy's musical Closer to Heaven. And most charming Somewhere Over the Rainbow on a crescent hovering aloft. The rest was a collection of your best work.
• Title
  Showgirl. How could you (or William Backer) choose that? Show is right, definitely. But you are not a girl, not even a princess. It must be Showqueen.

The bottom line: I'm grateful that I was admitted. You could keep up with Fever. I can hardly remember any concerts that made me randy as a dachshund. Yours did.

With all my love,
Gomad