The happening has attracted a devoted following, and no wonder. On Thursdays, when Playscool is in session, Tracks is transformed into an unrivaled entertainment zone where hipster teens and club-friendly young adults are able to act out their wildest fantasies while sporting high-fashion accoutrements, the messiest tri-color hairdos imaginable and omni-sexual makeup that would make even the trendsetters in London keel over in euphoria. On one recent night, gay couples were making out in corners as what looked like a high-school quarterback was checking out his Park Meadows-bought Armani clubwear not five feet away. Later, girls in the boys' restroom straightened their hair while discussing an upcoming algebra test that was the likely cause of their anxious expressions. Odds are good that instead of memorizing equations, they'd spent much of their time busting moves in front of their bedroom mirrors in anticipation of Playscool's Intellibeams.
Taken as a whole, Playscool is a gender-bending brew of couture and pop savvy that's as aesthetically challenging as it is psychically void. Franconi, however, sees Playscool not as a weekly tribute to decadence, but as a utopian experiment in which his students are learning the importance of acceptance. "We've created an environment where it doesn't matter who you are, what you are, where you grew up or what you look like," he says. "You come here to be your true self, and you leave your preconceptions at the door. You're not here to criticize or look down on anyone, and you can be friends with anyone.
"What I want to do in the music industry and in the clubs is to educate," the Playscool master adds. "I think it's important to give the people--and in this case, the kids at Playscool--more than what they expect."
The man currently reigning over this seething manifestation of teenage titillation had a somewhat rootless boyhood. "I was born in San Francisco," he says, "but as a family, we moved to a lot of different places--especially around California--in my formative years." Following young Kekoa's seventh birthday, however, a longer leap was completed: The clan deserted the Left Coast state, which Malcolm McLaren once described as the spot "where Western Civilization hit the beach," in favor of Hawaii, where many of his relatives reside. But even though Franconi enjoyed his time in paradise, ten years of it proved to be enough for him. "I left Hawaii at seventeen," he says. "It's a beautiful place to grow up, but I felt out of place there, because I have ideas I want to put into motion, and Hawaii is too small for that."
Keoki understood his sibling's feelings perfectly: He'd moved from Hawaii to New York City several years earlier, attracted by one of the world's best club scenes. He was working as a go-go dancer at a venue called the Area when he was given his first chance to deejay, and before long, he and a cohort, Michael Alig, were making waves with themed events--most famously Disco 2000, which kicked off in 1989. According to Franconi, who witnessed many of these elaborate bashes firsthand, the circus-like atmosphere Keoki and Alig created was a big inspiration. "Once the place was decked out like a gigantic chess board, with a ten-foot queen and king, and pawns all around you while you're dancing," he remembers. "A lot of time and effort was put into those parties--and that's when I realized what I wanted to do."
Not that Franconi didn't have other interests as well. In 1992 he moved to Colorado in order to attend Regis University, with an eye toward training for a very different career. "I majored in psychology and Spanish," he says. "I knew I wanted to work with psychology and in education, because I love kids." A 1996 internship in the Denver Public Schools system only made him more enthusiastic: "I started working with DPS as a paraprofessional until I got hired on as a kindergarten teacher--a job I continued until the end of last year." These days he's back at Regis, where he's pursuing a master's degree in psychology that he'll be able to draw upon when he returns to the classroom. He rejects the idea that he'll someday have to choose between Playscool and real school. "Some people think that teaching and nightlife are total opposites," he says, "but I don't agree with that. The whole time I was in school, I was still traveling and working with my brother."