Some of us still like our dance clubs to whiff faintly of the underground. It's not that we want a dive or a lounge or, worse, a red-carpet casino circus ring. We don't want to be seen or to see anybody else who wants to be seen. It's not that we're snobs, we're just getting too old (or we're otherwise still too young) to pretend to be somebody we're not. We're smart. We want a dance floor that's smallish and littered at the end of the night with fliers promoting sessions such as "Love Hz" or "Kinky Disco." We want dim lighting, a video screen and a floor that packs in bodies real tight when the music's right. We want our DJs close enough to look them in the eye. And God knows we need their music to deliver something unexpectedly soulful or energetically pounding, something we've never heard before and that's just enough to get us outside of ourselves and back into ourselves and shaking our asses on the dance floor.
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