Iwant to wake up in the city that never sleeps . . .
So the old hep cat sang, with the studio orchestra behind him swinging like dancing elephants, in an arrangement so retro it sounded almost new wave when it was released. And even though it was so hep/corny, we all agreed, because we all knew it was true.
. . . the city that never sleeps . . .
What did I know about it? For years the Coke Factory was three blocks from my apartment, and I never went to it, assuming I could have got past the velvet rope. …
This article appears as “An Awakening” in the June 14, 2021, print edition of National Review.
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