Note on New Yorker Dance Party
starring Michael Mayer and Sasha Frere-Jones. I explained the experience to Mo's Mom, visiting from Washington, as follows:
"Imagine a German DJ sampling a ping-pong ball. When he switches the sound from a ping-pong ball to a pepper-grinder, the whole crowd goes 'WOOOOOOOOOOOO!'"
It was pretty fantastic time, all things considered. Outside, as we were leaving, we overheard a man grouse, "There's too much Festival and not enough New Yorker in this dance party." Swear to god.
he must've been expecting a comic involving a poodle in an art museum and a gore vidal essay on french toast.
I'll give you the poodle cartoon, and even the french toast essay, but if it were 50k words from J McPhee on how the syrup got from the weather to the seeds to the tree to the bucket to the tanker truck to the Mississippi Delta that the commenter was missing, well then I'd see his point. Actually, you could probably read that syrup story aloud during the techno thingy and have it work pretty well. There are untapped facets of nerdy/groovy, I'm telling you...