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So, you’ve got your Zappa facial hair looking super-styley and you’re hanging out in Brooklyn with your buddies from MGMT and the Strokes when a space cylinder drops out of the sky and sucks you into its chamber. But you’re still grooving on the vibe of the day, and even when that space cylinder deposits you into a colonoscopic netherworld in which GZA rules over creatures deemed too freaky for “Yellow Submarine,” the time is right for a dance party.