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Blurring the lines between house and club, dirty and bacterial, Ridgewood (that's in Queens) performance loft offers chance to see the next big obscurity while moshing by the fridge. Beer is served from a trashcan and here's guessing the couches have done some time on the streets. But a toddler's xylophone in the lime green bathroom and sweeter than sweet underage hipsters are nice touches. Standout nights curated by Todd P., indie rock's broke–ass Bill Graham.
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