THE NEW TASTEMAKER

Everybody’s a DJ, right? Wrong. You see, even if you have the most jacked Ipod in the world, the simple truth is that you can’t buy taste. And even if you do have good taste, we all know that it’s completely subjective, which means you probably wasted your money anyway. Plus, I’d rather not listen to your “creative” scratching of the “Under Pressure” a cappella breakdown over I-can’t-even-remember-cuz-I-ran-out-of-the-spot. But you meant to do it in the wrong key with no regard for rhythm? Sorry, I forgot. You’re so avant-garde.

It seems that this “taste-optional” trend has infested NYC nightlife, rendering it limper than Rush Limbaugh’s Viagra-less ding-ding. You’ve got the W. 27th Street outer-boro playlist, (aka “tunes for shaking overstuffed sausage bags to”), the NME-toting, I-look-like-Karen-O playlist (aka “Paul Epworth remixing Arthur Baker dropping a deuce?” “Yes!”) and an occasional bad Parisian dream complete with downtown hotel lobby “vibes.” While there are some notable exceptions, the overriding taste factor is about as bland as a Saltine cracker dipped in Evian.

Fear not, poopy pants; I’ve found the perfect solution. As tasty as a Wheatsworth topped with Foie Gras and Velveeta; unassuming, yet flirting with Studio 54 eccentricity. Where? Key Foods on 4th & A. I don’t know who’s dropping the beats at this culinary mecca, but I stopped coming here for the food a long time ago. Where else can you hear a set filled with Dazz, Billy Idol, P Funk, Alan Parsons, Romeo Void, Tribe, ELO, D Train, Heavy D, Tito Puente and Supertramp, all served with the random deliciousness of an all-Boars Head deli counter? Ah, but it seems as though the secret’s already out. The Pope, Reverand Al and the Heatherette dudes are regulars already. They even brought back the Studio 54 doorman? Is Susanne Bartsch behind this? I don’t know, but you better get there before the promoters come in and demand an all hip-hop frozen foods jubilee.