We’re teaming up with our friends over at Brooklyn Flea and Smorgasburg to throw a party in Central Park. On Friday evening, September 19, from 5pm to 9pm at SummerStage, we’ll set up the big, blue soundsysterm, drop Eamon and Justin into the DJ booth, and the Flea will roll in a veritable, uh, smorgasbord of excellent food.
Among the food purveyors are Ramen Burger, El Super Tostadas, and Mile End. Plus Brooklyn Soda Works (our favorite) will be supplying non-boozey beverages, and the Brooklyn Flea folks will run a trusty beer and wine bar. Best part about this one? It’s free.
If you haven’t been there before, Central Park SummerStage is relatively close to the 5th Avenue and 72nd Street entrance of the park. Here’s a map.
Whether in Central Park or Industry City, we’ll see you on the dancefloor soon.
In case you didn’t know, Mister Sunday is going through September, probably even into October. Indian summer or sweater weather, we’ll be dancing. This Sunday we’ve got a really special treat: Justin takes over the turntables from 3pm to 9pm. Gonna be goooooood. Tickets for this Sunday and all the other parties in September are here.
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.
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.