Please allow me to make some sweeping statements, full of convenient generalizations. Because I will probably never tire of complaining about lackluster crowds at New York rock shows, I offer the following plea: Hey indie fan, abandon your compartmentalized mentality!  Please stop thinking: "I'm at the Bowery to see a band, so I can't dance" or "I'm at Don Hill's to see a DJ, so it's ok to dance." You can dance anywhere. You can dance to anything. Even Tiga.

As much as Sexor disappointed me for reasons outside the scope of this article, Tiga's interstitial DJ sets Saturday night were superb. Dropping both The Knife's "Silent Shout" and Erol Alkan's extended rework of Hot Chip's "And I Was A Boy From School" is one easy way to win me over. Not playing your own unnecessary covers of songs like "Burning Down the House" is another. But the rock show atmosphere suppressed attempts at club breakouts down to a few pockets of dancers pre-Scissor Sisters and a handful of plastic cup-mashers afterwards.

Even though Scissor Sisters weren't quite the over-the-top, overtly sexual extravaganza I expected (this was my first SS show), they were as fun as their reputation proclaims. Ironically, between songs Ana Matronic railed against the dying of night life in New York. The Man doesn't want us to dance, she said. The government's heavy handed approach towards clubs vis-à-vis cabaret licenses has dampened the city's dance vibes, but what excuse do we offer for Saturday night's rather timid reactions? How could anyone not at least tap a toe during a scintillating "Tits on the Radio" or the uproarious, show ending "Filthy Gorgeous"? I'm exaggerating of course, but I expected a full on bacchanal to ensue in response to this band, not a loud, but polite observance. Cher was in the audience after all. She deserved better from us kids.