The Stars Like Fleas PopRally show at MoMA last night was a success!
Here is a funny blog recap that uses the word hipster as synonymous with anyone in a costume.
I will admit, the feather costumes caught me a bit off guard too because I had a dream the night before that I had black wings and was cawing like a crow, so they made me nervous?
According to my favorite reference--
The Dictionary of Dreams: 10,000 Dreams Explained by Gustavus Hindman Miller, "To see the wings of fowls or birds, denotes that you will finally overcome adversity and rise to wealthy degrees and honor." (High five!)
Theo Angell was the choir director for the performance and did a bang up job of signaling us with cue cards that read "STATIC", "FIST FIGHT", "SMALL BIRDS", "PTERODACTYL", etc.
while the band made all these magnificent swells and lulls with their horns, harp, drums, singing, violin, keyboards and guitar.
It was really fun to participate in an event like this, built around music and art, but without the usual amount of pressure I think we have when we perform as TAP.
Singing while moving through all the floors of the museum felt so simultaneously natural and surreal. At one point, we were split into three groups and Theo led us in this kind of Dada doo-wop in the round singing.
He seems like a calm and friendly person, that radiates a very clear and kind energy. You know, like yoga teacher good vibes? Choruses of people singing have awesome energy too. I think I don't spend enough time around church choirs or glee clubs.
During the intermission, we swiped as much wine and fancy hors d'oeuvres as we could before the choir got scolded by catering. Thank you MoMa for the goat cheese and apricots, mini quiche trios, and Mediterranean inspired shrimp and hummus cocktails. Thank you, Ryan for the SPACE cookie. Usually I don't eat during a show, but this was definitely more of a giddy celebration than anything.
After we finished, there were tiles inscribed with "It's Treason" to be handed out to the choir and audience. My phone was dead, so no pictures, but there should be plenty up and around soon. I liked overhearing one man describe the tile to his friends as a "real tile". It's nice to give people something tangible after they experience something unique, uplifting and fleeting.
Since we never had a proper dinner, Lori and I decided to throw healthy dining out the window with a trip to Crif Dogs. And she went even further with a last minute reservation to the semi-secret sister bar Please Don't Tell.
The reviews for this place are pretty mixed.
But it was really the right mix of high and low brow following a good 6 hours at a museum.
Lori ordered champagne and I had a drink called "A Beer and Smoke" which is a michelada priced about the same as a NYC movie ticket. The cheaper, doctored up with hot sauce version was my drink of choice last summer in Chicago, but this was better. Although, I think sometimes I just want a really good spicy Bloody Mary with some olives, celery and bacon for garnish.
Definitely the theatrics of the bartender (I hate, hate the term "mixologist") were entertaining. He made a big show of slapping down cocktail shakers and stirring two drinks at once. One cocktail even required he spray some flavored liquid through a stencil over the top of the foam. When he served it he shrugged and said it was "too Vegas", which I agreed with. I chased my drink with a deep foil crater of tater tots and accompanying cheesssse sauce and jalapenos. Total gut bomb hangover today.
Points to the bartender also for having an accent that seemed to waver between England and New Jersey, looking good in his black vest/blue shirt uniform combo, casually dropping a Freemason reference, and not upselling.