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He threatens new music, new albums to come. But too much planning is also antithetical to the concept here. Spontaneity begets discomfort begets elation. Which brings us back to the New Museum, a flurry of new converts now skipping around Andrew's grand piano as he leads us through a climactic "I Love NYC" (chorus: "I love!/New York City!/Oh yeah!/New York City!"), forcing us to really love it for once.
"I would never normally dance at a show," he notes afterward. "It would take something special to make me dance. Maybe what it would take is someone really humiliating themselves to that extent, so no matter what I did, I couldn't be more of a fool than the guy in the spotlight." This is how jesters become kings, how messiahs are born. "You guys are doing so well!" he bellows at the ebullient crowd. "So well. I love you. I love you very, very much."
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