Meanwhile, at the richly paneled Madison Supper Club (which used to be Jillian's, with the Goth club The Vault downstairs in the Bat Cave), the Eddie Reed Big Bandwas being all jazzy and swingy and wearing really sharp suits. (Members of Royal Crown Revue play there Saturdays.) The hepcats and kittens had clearly escaped from an Arthur Murray dance studio that had been holding them all SLA; not one of the couples looked like they should even know each other, but oh! How they lived for the Dance! They were in fact darling; one tall, thin, ponytailed guy was clearly gay (and he hopped a lot), but his partner was a pampered-looking blonde. Another man was a pocket-protected skinny geek, but his partner had a touch of dyed-black Riot Grrrl. Only a bald, placid black dude looked like he belonged with everyone with whom he danced, whether it was the WASPy blonde or the juicy Latina. Then Eddie Reed took a break from his clarinet to sing "Moon River" for us, and it made me cry. Stupid Henry Mancini.
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What's a dance club without our pal KatoSpace sweating to the oldies? Having organized Velcro Percolator at Costa Mesa's DetroitFriday night, it was left to Kato—he's the black guy with the Queen Elizabeth hairline and the Hitler mustache—to keep the party rolling with all manner of breakdancy flapdoodles. There was plenty of room on the floor for him to spin and jump, as such DJs as Olias and Scotty Coats pretended they were in San Francisco and played rare groove that almost sounded familiar, but then wasn't. At the back of the stage, a guy noodled with a small clay sculpture. It looked fun and messy, but you couldn't really see what he was doing as he needed better lighting and a grander scale. Like Richard Dreyfuss' kitchen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind!God, that would be so cool. Cool like ice, baby.