This Sunday, Yale Evelev is playing some records from his amazing collection for the first hour-and-a-half of the party. Yale runs Luaka Bop, a label that’s been responsible for putting out an incredible array of excellent music over the past twenty-five years. (Os Mutantes, William Oneyabor, Shuggie Otis, Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt, Susana Baca, David Byrne.) He’s also been a musical mentor to Justin and is a generally great guy. We’re excited to have him.
Justin Carter and Eamon Harkin live at Mister Sunday in Industry City on Sunday, July 20. Completely independent of the mixing desk, this set was captured by a microphone perched in a tree just off the dancefloor.
Mister Sunday happens every Sunday in a courtyard between two beautiful buildings in Industry City, a complex of old warehouses at the foot of Sunset Park in Brooklyn. There are birch trees, garden lights strung from end to end, plenty of tables and chairs, indoor bathrooms and a padded dancefloor.
Country Boys serve tacos and huaraches; Sottocasa serves coal-oven pizza; and our bar has sangria, limonata, Mexican Coke, and a bunch of Brooklyn-brewed beers. The party is all ages; you can bring your dog; and Eamon Harkin and Justin Carter play records from the beginning of the night to the end.
Our hours are from 3pm to 9pm, and it costs $15. (We sell a limited number of $10 advance tickets for each party.) You can buy advance tickets here.
We have some very important rules for our dancefloor. Here’s the scoop:
A FEW RULES FOR OUR DANCEFLOOR:
1. Please don’t take photos.
2. Please don’t smoke.
3. Please don’t text or make calls or any of that stuff.
You can do all these things off of the dancefloor, but when you’re inside the speakers, get down.
Finally, here are directions and some answers to other questions you might have:
If you want to use Google Maps to get directions, the closest address to our entrance is 644 2nd Ave, Brooklyn. The N, R and D trains stop at 36th Street, two blocks from the party. Both the N and D run express, even on the weekend. It takes less than ten minutes to get here from Atlantic Terminal on both of those trains. The R train runs local and connects with the F and G at 4th Ave and 9th. If you’re riding a bike, the easiest, safest way is to use 5th Avenue. Once you get to 36th Street, just go down the hill, and you’re a three-block coast away.
OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT SUNDAYS
Kids under 18 go free with as long as they’re accompanied by a grown-up, and dogs are welcome as long as they’re on a leash. We take credit cards at the bar. The closest ATM is in the deli on the corner of 3rd Ave and 36th Street. No outside drinks are allowed, but fear not: we have beer, sangria, water, and lemonade. In order to drink beer and sangria, you’ll need a wristband. You’ll be given a wristband at the door as long as your ID says you’re of age.
The music ends at 9pm, and we close the space a little later, so if you want to hang and have a drink after the tunes, you can. Before you leave, please throw all your trash and recycling in the appropriate bins so the neighbors’ front stoops aren’t junked up, and on your way home, keep your voices low so that the folks in the neighborhood can have a little peace and quiet. They’re really nice for having us around, and we want to stay in their good graces so we can keep bringing you Mister Sunday.
Finally, have an awesome time.
Man, it’s been so good!
From little kids to great grandfathers, the dopest group of people we’ve seen together in a long time has populated the Mister Sunday dancefloor over the past couple weeks. Eamon and Justin have been in fine form as well. We recorded their set two weeks ago, and it’s dripping with vibes – see post below.
The trend continues this Sunday. See you then.
I played this song on Sunday, and it’s put me on a major Sylvester kick this week. Dude was exactly who and what he wanted to be: tall, strong and physically imposing, delicately beautiful, firey like a pentecostal preacher, flashy like a disco queen. There was and has been no one like him since he died from AIDS complications at the way-too-young age of forty-one in the late 80s.
His version of ‘Southern Man’ isn’t just the definitive version of Neil Young’s song because of how musically perfect it is; it’s because it was UNBELIEVABLY ballsy for a six-foot-something black man in women’s clothes to open his DEBUT record, in 1973 no less, by wailing out these lyrics in the strongest falsetto anyone’s ever heard: “Southern man better keep your head. Don’t forget what your good book said. Southern change gonna come at last. Now your crosses are burning fast. / I saw cotton, and I saw black. Tall white mansions and little shacks. Southern man, when will you pay them back?”
Sylvester is my hero.