On the other side of the street, while the band played some severely rhythmic music, no one was dancing. The room, while it was larger, and contained an equal number of genders, only about five people, restricted in gender to male, listened intently.

It was all jazz but the scenes could scarcely have been more different. In part, it’s the the romance of the older music, the sexiness of dancing close, decollatage & love lyrics.

The composers of all of the music played by the nostalgic band were dead and legendary; the composer of the angular music was alive and playing guitar.

The point being that it’s still rare for audiences to really challenge themselves because the familiar is how we identify certain things. Old habits die old.

(Sidebar: I don’t know how to change that, but if you had some serious students of modren (pardon my yat) dance out there, you’d have dancers to odd metered music. People who can dance to the sound of an oil can rolling down the street.)