Gary’s organ player was dead-on when he compared the vibe that night to New York ‘s ‘70s salad days. It was! Gathering on a crowded rooftop is a totally novel experience—the background was the downtown skyline and an I LOST ME TO METH billboard that made the night a little more awkward (but a lot more magical) as cigarette and pot smoke (and flying beers!) floated through the air. Ariel Pink started around 11 to a packed roof. Set was like an hour? They were super together—it was like seeing U2, but in a good way! How do you go from doing four-tracked ‘90s-radio pop in your bedroom to fronting a viciously tight four piece? Who cares! Good work! Then Gary ascended from the staircase to the stage to an angelic introduction played by the fez-topped Blind Dates (excepting the drummer who was neck-deep into a Vince McMahon vibe). Gary made it his agenda not to engage the audience directly (as he did in San Diego last time I saw him) but lie prostrate on the ground throwing baby powder into the sky: a possible ozone-depleting stage antic but worth the price our grandkids will pay. Did he play new songs? I didn’t notice because I was too afraid the roof was gonna cave in. But don’t blame that on Gary. He could have played “I Wanna Lose Control” over and over for two hours that night and I would have been on cloud nine in the “other room.”

— Kevin Ferguson