You can’t see the people’s faces but only the masks, tuxedos and Sequin dresses. Women smoke inside from pointy cigarette holders. They wear ancient vanilla perfume, drink absynth from cocktail glasses. Peacock feathers cover the floor. “You were looking for us!” Says a beautiful stranger “Congratulations! You found the sound of the town as it is in your imagination” The crowd applauds warmly as the band takes the stage and the music starts. The softly wailing clarinet, the jingle jangle piano, the pulsing brushes on the old oak drum kit, and the steady bouncing guitar. You can’t see their faces through the masks but you could swear it was Stepcat or Caravan Palace. Maybe The Dresden Dolls or Tin Hat. A cartoon walrus approaches the mic and sings a Tom Waits song in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Cab Calloway. Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee high he sings and the crowd sings it back “Ho-dee ho-dee ho-dee ho” It’s traditional jazz but it’s the least traditional Trad jazz you’ve ever heard.