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It’s been a fairly disjointed, hectic few weeks for your Senior Editor, so it seems fair to render this edition of New York Noise in a similarly fractured format. In lieu of a typical multi-paragraphed rant, please accept this humble offering: a laundry list of what we’ve been doing, watching, and obsessing over.

*We were invited to the Cooper Square Hotel afterparty for Björk's Housing Works concert with the Dirty Projectors. The always amazing Rob Harvilla sounded off on the performance itself (in which he describes vocal harmonies that are like "vintage Dadaist radio jingles for Ovaltine.") The after party was in the penthouse of the hotel, which looked pretty much like what we’d expect it to look like, i.e. it was sort of like being inside an architectural CAD rendering of a swank downtown penthouse. Word on the street was that Björk was DJ'ing. The more improbable thing? Björk was actually DJing (off a laptop); the place wasn’t uncomfortably full; after about three hundred complimentary cups of vodka from Iceland we actually tried to dance fitfully. Dave Longstreth of the Dirty Projectors played Lil’ Wayne and various possibly-ironic-but-awesome-nonetheless vintage jams, leading us to believe that all New York parties from here on out should be soundtracked to an endless stream of ‘90s joy. The sweetly chirping female members of the Projectors (Angel Deradoorian, Amber Coffman) were also in attendance, as well as Jeremy Kost (whom we’d last seen at his Coachella party, bouncing manically in what appeared to be a Tigger outfit.) After the afterparty came the after-after party at KGB Bar, which marks the only time we imagine we’ll be in a room with about thirty people, one of whom is Björk. And about that Icelandic chanteuse: she’s a fricken pro at avoiding social interaction. We tried at least twice to casually catch her ear as she made her elfin way through the small crowd; she’s perfected a kind of shoulder roll for occasions like this, in which she completely ignores you without seeming to ignore you. It’s quite impressive. If we’re ever incredibly famous and/or eccentric we plan to emulate it.

*A week or so later, we joined forces with DKMS Americas to host Bone To Party, a fundraiser concert for the international bone marrow registry. Read more about that in last week’s New York Noise; or here; or here, in a short piece I wrote for DKMS’ blog. We’d like to take this opportunity to offer a special thanks to our liquor sponsor for the evening: V2 Vodka (that’s vodka infused with caffeine and taurine, for those who don’t know.) A word to the wise: V2 provides the sort of tidal wave of amped-up, amnesiac drunkenness, the likes of which we haven’t experienced since those long-ago dark days in which we thought antidepressants and hard liquor made great bedfellows. If you’re going to imbibe, leave a trail of crumbs so you remember how to get back home.

*We remembered why we have an unashamed, giggly, journalistic crush on the multi-talented Sam Anderson. Seriously: if this guy wrote 100,000 words on the history of rubber cement, we would waste a weekend on it. His most recent New York cover story on distraction is worth your time; ditto everything else he’s written for the magazine, from pieces on the street art “Splasher” to the semi-colon obsessions of Aleksander Hemon. Get busy with his archives here. Once Obama’s magazine bail-out package comes through, we plan to spend at least 42% of the money to bribe Mr. Anderson onto our masthead.

*We got goddamned excited for David Byrne’s free show on June 8th at the Prospect Park Bandshell. We also wondered how many days in advance we’d have to camp outside the gates to get a proper seat.

*Bonnie Prince Billy brought his traveling road show to Santos Party House…and left us sort of cold, and oddly bored. We’re still trying to suss out the reasons. If we figure it out, we’ll let you know. (Have similarly lackluster BPB-related concert experiences? Feel free to share.)

*We read I Am Not Sidney Poitier by Percival Everett, and chatted with the author about pudding pops and the fallacy of a post-racial America. Also read Eric Bogosian’s Perforated Heart and discussed what a gritty, dangerous, fuck-happy place New York was back in the heyday of the late 70s. Read Ron Currie, Jr’s forthcoming Everything Matters!, out June 29th—definitely the best novel about the end of the world to be released thus far in 2009.

*Stopped by the New York Photo Festival in Dumbo which, much like Bonnie Prince Billy, had us asking: Is this it? Blame it on budget cuts, the failing economy, or less-than-stellar curatorial choices…but this year’s installment lacked the creative zing of ’08. Better luck next time.

So as not to end on a negative note, let's bring it back full-circle and remind you once again how heart-skippingly amazing the Dirty Projectors are these days. Spoiler alert: Bitte Orca will be topping everyone's 2009 Best Of list (and it'll deserve those across-the-board accolades a helluva lot more than The National ever did.) Mark your calendars for June 9th, kids.