Stephen Mejias

Exactly six months after we’d seen them perform in Puerto Rico, at that strange island bar, Bamboo Beach (see “Records to Die For,” February 2010, pages 71-72), the Vivian Girls performed on Saturday night, this time so much closer to home, at Maxwell’s in Hoboken. I bought tickets for the whole crew—Rizzo, Fritzy, Papi Chulo, Fuzzy, and Tigga—so that, together again for the first time since that memorable trip, we could relive the magic. We ate well, drank too much, laughed, danced, and sang along as the Vivian Girls burned through their energetic set.