sounds of the city

I often associate songs with places where I first heard them or heard them a lot. My first visit to New York in 1999, I couldn't move for Whitney Houston's "It's Not Right But It's OK" and so (rightly or wrongly) that song takes me back to those first forays into NYC nightlife. Last year, the song was Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black" - a distinct improvement on Whitney (musically, not pharmacologically). I first heard it in some shop and I was impressed that a cool staff member must have dug out some obscure old soul album from the 60s. Then I kept hearing it everywhere else and realised it was new. This year so far, there are two contenders. One is the new Janet Jackson single "Feedback". The other is a great dance track called "Blind" by Hercules and Love Affair with vocals by Antony. I heard this for the second time in the Diesel store uptown yesterday, which was going off with a fab DJ, and I actually stayed back to try on a pair of skinny black jeans just so I could hear the song out. I had a little groove in the changeroom but needless to say the jeans looked ridiculous. Here it is:




After a couple of much-needed reality-check emails from home to snap me out of ambivalence (thanks Darren and Panda), I resolved mid-week to get on with making the most of being here and stop whingeing. Decision made, the second half of the week turned into a fun and productive and very social few days. I started getting some work done in the library, I continued my reconnaissance missions of various shops in preparation for potential purchases (although I have to say I'm underwhelmed), and I went out and drank lots. But it was my birthday and when one does try to be in New York for one's birthday there seems little option but to draw celebrations out over three or four nights.

Wednesday night, Matt and Elle joined me for drinks and dinner at the uber-hip Schiller's Liquor Bar on the Lower East Side - all vintage tiles and mirrors. Great drinks, good food, music way too loud. Thursday night was Megan's last night in New York before returning to Sydney so a small group of us had a lovely, low-key dinner in Chelsea. For my birthday on Friday, I dispensed with early plans to do some work and instead took myself to lunch at my favourite little Italian place Cafe Falai, where the coffee is great and the waiters are flirty in that cheeky Italian-but-straight way. In the afternoon, I joined Elisa as she drove Megan to the airport, which must have been the most ridiculously stressful but strangely hilarious airport trip ever. With very heavy traffic everywhere and Elisa's car threatening to give us all whiplash every time she changed gear, poor Megan might have hoped for a more relaxing end to two years in the city. That night, I had dinner in Hell's Kitchen with the Russian, then drinks with him and Kevin and John, then a bit of a shimmy with Kevin at The Ritz, whose dance area is New York's answer to Palms/downstairs Shift. Finally, Saturday night involved a lovely chance to sit down and get to know my flatmates. Kimberly pulled a bottle of French champagne from the fridge, after which she and Andy and I went to a local bar and continued our chin-wag, after which I head downtown to the re-opening of the Mr Black party (which had been shut down while I was away for drug violations... no surprise there). Got on down with my new friend Anthony from Sydney and his hosts Matt and Ray and a couple of hundred of New York's hottest, then must have briefly fallen asleep on the subway home and missed my stop.

Priority for this week: exercise, full-body and health-based, not the repetitive lifting of a glass to my mouth.