Besides
the DJs themselves, there was nobody I recognized from the Misshapes
parties of yore, and with the exception of some girls in sparkly
dresses, a smattering of cute dykes and two statuesque men (obviously
off-duty drag queens), the crowd skewed toward fellows of the “Where do
I go for bottle service?” variety. Indeed, on my way to the bar for
champagne, three dudes proceeded to get all up in my shit. The music as
well failed to recreate the post-punk heavy funfests that once filled
Luke and Leroy, with techno club-pumpers and mainstream pop hits
dominating the play list. Songs started only to be switched out right
away and, at one point, it sounded like they were actually playing the
radio. It wasn’t until 1:15 a.m. that the formerly popular trio played
The Smiths’ “Hang the DJ,” wishful thinking, yes, but it was also the
first song all night that actually got me excited to dance. You have
pretty boyfriends, fancy clothes, Gothic flair and a book, for crying
out loud; all I ask in return, Misshapes, is that you play good
records.
Santos honcho Andrew W.K. marked the New Year in
characteristically enthusiastic fashion with a 96-second countdown and
balloon drop, surrounded on stage by backup dancers and all the fans
that would fit. He briefly alluded to the year’s rough spots, then
reminded us “we’re all alive and we’re gonna make the best of it! 2009:
your time to shine!” He then launched into his set of party anthems,
dedicating them “to anyone who is maybe not alive.” Overflowing bottles
of champagne were passed around and I downed as much as I could before
security demanded I take my friend, who had seen better nights, home. I
was sorry to miss Gang Gang Dance, but otherwise happy to leave one hot
mess in favor of tucking another into her bed. — Jamie Peck
anonymous
