Last night I was invited to a cocktail party and dinner to kick off the GFC conference in New York -- taking place today -- bringing together some of the most up-and-coming DJs and creatives around the world. The conference's purpose is to discuss the future of music and creative collaboration. One of the most interesting choices is Pedro Winter, a.k.a. Busy-P, as curator in addition to being a DJ, he's also ex-manager of Daft Punk and founder of Ed Banger Records. Pedro selected several of the conference panel members -- those he deems exceedingly relevant in each of their respective countries.

Terry Casey’s Le Royale is a serious attempt to have a club that's both musically and socially relevant. If you start with the premise that a 1Oak or a Kiss & Fly or Tenjune cater to a mostly musically ignorant crowd, while the Santos' Party House, Pacha, and Cielo seek musical nirvana, then Le Royale leans towards the latter. The DJs at the former clubs and their ilk offer up sets of music cloned from basically the same Serato. I just don’t think a really cool crowd wants to hear Kanye West, Beyonce, or crooker crap anymore.

February 14 is coming. Hearts, candies, and overpriced prix-fixe menus, and lucky for you, several Anti-Valentine's Day events to get sloshed at (and perhaps find a partner to take home to properly hate on the fake holiday). Here are five spots to take a piss on love.

Servicey New York blog Gothamist reports today that the center of Greenpoint nightlife Studio B has finally, totally, completely called it quits. They received an email from a promoter who worked parties at the club, reading, "It is with deep regret that we have to announce that the owner of Studio B has decided to close it's [sic] doors effective immediately." Sad.

A few weeks back I spoke of the Haves and the Have-Nots. I tried to explain what the club market would be looking like as the now "official" recession sets in. The rich (or well-run clubs) are maintaining; they have tightened their belts and shed bottle promoters whose clients haven’t survived the crunch. With payrolls cut and a steady flow of people, they scoop from the Have-Not clubs which are dying -- things aren’t so bad for them. On the other end, however, its bad news across the board. The C- and D-list clubs are swimming upstream, and they're in a losing battle with the bad economic current.

He's named after a whale, but this music superstar drinks like a fish

Screw the earphones, turn up the Marshalls. This one goes to 11.

The reason I moved to New York is being brought back from venue purgatory. Back in Canada, photographic relics of Studio B madness , and video clips of batshit after parties, so I came here to be a part of it all, only to have Studio B shut down. So after a summer of not losing my shit, the Greenpoint locale seems to be opening its doors once more. A hardcore show was held there this past weekend, but the venue's official site lists its grand re-opening (featuring DJ Derrick Carter) as October 17th.

Yesterday came reports that famed Midtown eatery Monkey Bar (since 1932) had been sold. Foodies awaited the mystery buyer’s identity with baited garlic breath. Today, said identity has been revealed to all as Graydon Carter, editor of Vanity Fair, owner of The Waverly Inn. Carter's spokesperson said the resto will reopen next summer after renovations and will be "small" and "low-key." Kind of like The Waverly is "low-key."Carter's two partners include Jeff Klein of the City Club Hotel and Jeremy King of London restaurant The Wolseley. Hey Graydon, can you rescue Studio B now?

Last night, when Australian dance rock outfit Cut Copy took the stage just after 11 p.m. at Studio B in Greenpoint, we found ourselves front row, center. Such is the pleasure of going to a concert alone—criss-crossing through the masses to get up front ain’t no thang when you’re a loner. Their album In Ghost Colours is a dance-rock sensation. The crowd ecstatically shouting all the lyrics can attest to that fact—it was U2 for club kids. With our buzz decreasing and our bladder increasing, we waited for a lull in the band’s set (never came) to drain and refill.