Spirikal’s bottom line: In short, a spectacular time with a variety of music in wonderful surroundings. I didn’t think I’d stay the whole time, but in the end, it was too good to leave.
Review: Because everyone I asked seemed to be busy, I headed alone to the Natural History Museum to check out Airbird, Neon Indian and XXXChange. For some reason, I never got or accidently deleted my confirmation E-mail – next time I’ll print it out! – so I instead showed my credit card record. Phew, that worked!
There wasn’t going on, and the music consisted of remixes of Rollingstones – which is good, but I was in the mood to hear some house. When Airbird took over, it seemed to be heading in a weird experimental direction, but to my delight he started kickin’ out some old house classic, including Stardust – which made the music sound better. Then, it was pure house. Thank god.
Last up, Neon Indian, was interesting, but I have to confess his set wasn’t exactly my thing, but everyone kept dancing. The place was packed and the event sold out, but no real mayhem. Everyone was just having a good time.
My only negatives were relatively minor. In order to drink, you had to buy tickets at one of the kioscs next to the bar, which only two out of four were frickin’ working. Beer was $6ish and red /white wine $8.75. Needless to say that this caused a lot of traffic.
Moreover, the coatcheck was a royal pain because we queued for more than 20 min before we got to purchase our coat ticket which was another $3 – I suddenly realized why there was no additional fee on the original $25. They simply made it up with drink revenue and the vestiaire. Total damage 38 ( for three wine tickets and coatcheck). The red wine was good, but I’d have preferred a voddy cranberry or a dry sauvignon blanc.
Another irritation was a group of hapless millenial chicks in the middle of dance floor on their @$&%ing phones. In the middle of the best house moments, there they were – glued on Facebook interrupted by the occasional selfie. Best time ever! I suddenly appreciated why Mister Sundays summer dance parties strickly prohibit cellphone usage on the dancefloor. With one click, the girls descended back in the emoji abyss. I had to move away from the depressing scene.
In spite of the minor gripes, I’ll definitely go back.