Mary looks at her son, then at the vibrant, chaotic street ahead of them. She reaches over and turns the volume knob back up as the track loops.
"Mama," he says, clicking a button on the stereo. "We’re going out."
Leo grabs her hand and pulls her toward the door. They hop into his beat-up hatchback, and as they hit the main road, he cranks the volume. He starts singing, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and liberation. He’s telling her, through the lyrics, that he wants to take her to his world—to the "monsters" and the "queens," to the places where people like him don't have to hide. Scissor Sisters - Take Your Mama
The year is 2004, and the air in the small, wood-paneled living room is thick with the scent of hairspray and nervous energy. Twenty-two-year-old Leo is wearing a shirt with too many sequins, pacing the carpet while his mother, Mary, finishes her tea.
As the final notes of the guitar solo fade, Leo pulls over under a neon sign. Mary looks at her son, then at the
By the time they reach the city lights, Mary is laughing, her head back, singing along to the falsetto chorus. The song acts as a bridge; the flamboyant, campy energy of the Scissor Sisters is stripping away the tension of the "sleepy town" they left behind.
"Mama," he says, his heart racing. "The song... that's where I've been going. That's who I am." "We’re going out
The honky-tonk piano of "Take Your Mama" explodes into the room. It’s a sound that shouldn't make sense—Elton John’s showmanship colliding with a New York dance floor—but as the beat kicks in, Mary’s foot starts tapping of its own accord.