There’s no denying that it’s been already been a long and brutal winter here in New York City, and we’re barely a week into February. There is really only one
Porter, Batiste and Stoltz launched back into their funk attack, which is what the increasingly animated crowd came to experience anyway: to dance not to trance. The spirit of New Orleans is really a state of mind, residing collectively, at least for one chilly late autumn evening, upstairs in Club Metronome.
